One of the most useful gifts for a parson to be given would be that of prophecy. It seems a great pity—at least on the surface of things—that God has been so generous in this regard to racing tipsters and the like, and so sparing with it as far as his clergy is concerned.
After all, if we had the gift of prophecy, we would know when people fell ill and when they had urgent spiritual problems that needed attention. We would know when they felt upset about something we’d done—or left undone—and needed to chat with us about it.
It would also enable us to forecast our own personal problems—you know the sort of thing: broken down cars, illnesses, the blues, letters of admonition from superiors—so that we could deal with them before they arose and distracted us from our duties.
On mature reflection, however, I am sure God is quite right to withhold the gift of prophecy from the vast majority of the parochial clergy. There is a very big downside to it, you see.
Just imagine the scandal that would ensue if word got around that if, after services, one asked the rector nicely, he’d give you the winner of the Belmont Stakes. Think of the appalling temptation to use such a gift for fund raising!
Our inability to prophesy, of course, is why we don’t know when you are ill or have spiritual problems until you tell us.
It is why we don’t know you are upset with us until you lift the phone or drop by the office. And, of course, it is why we sometimes get distracted with our own cares and worries.
Granted, it’s a nuisance not to have a prophetic parson, but, believe me, you really wouldn’t like it if you had one. GPH✠
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