The Parish Priest

Producer's Note

For those of us whose only encounters with priests are when we attend Christenings, weddings and funerals, or “hatching, matching and despatching” ceremonies, the image created is rather sketchy. Through screen portrayals one would imagine that priests are usually either rather distant, saintly people who don’t say much unless it’s written in a prayer book, or that they are malevolent abusers of power, or incompetent, well-meaning buffoons completely out of touch with the real world. As the wife of a parish priest myself, I would say that the nearest TV has come to reality is probably a combination of “The Vicar of Dibley” and the more recent “Rev”. Dawn French showed, possibly for the first time, that a priest is human and could be vulnerable, wise, gullible and funny. In “Rev”, Tom Hollander’s put upon vicar floundering in a modern inner London parish reflected my husband’s life so accurately we wondered if the writer had been spying on us.

I have tried to reflect all the above perceptions, both stereotypical and real, in the texts and music in this programme, focussing mainly on the Anglican Church and starting at the top with the most famous musical priest of all - Zadok. Handel’s anthem was written for George II’s coronation and has been performed at every British coronation since whilst the new monarch is being anointed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, who most likely will have started his career as a curate in some obscure parish somewhere.

Crashing back down to earth, the anonymous writer of the poem read by Michael Kitchen clearly has first hand experience of parish life and neatly sums up many of the issues faced by a newly qualified curate.

The lofty “pale young curate” in Gilbert and Sullivan’s Sorcerer probably would not have bothered himself with such lowly concerns, but certainly enjoys the adoration he receives from women. As nuptials are celebrated and wedding cake is consumed during Saint-Saens’ frilly and delightful piece for piano and orchestra, the women in the congregation swoon as various preachers stand in the pulpit. Anthony Trollope’s Obadiah Slope is one of the great fictional clergy creations (famously portrayed by Alan Rickman in a TV adaption some years ago) and consciously wields his self-serving charisma over women, whilst Mark Twain’s preacher sets all hearts aflutter, as does the duplicitous “Deacon Jones”. Harvey and the Wallbangers, some might remember, had a huge cult following in the 1980s and this was one of their most popular songs, performed with the usual immaculate gloss during a live show somewhere in London.

Thomas Hardy’s narcissistic priest in his poem “In Church”, read by Celia Imrie, reveals how much of a calculated and nuanced performance preaching can be, which may not always be a bad thing if the message is to get across effectively. There is no doubt about the effectiveness of Charles Dickens’ preacher, with girls fainting as he describes the fires of hell. Nina Simone’s rendition of “Go to Hell” makes it sound almost a pleasant and jolly place to be until you listen to the words of the song.

The young Tom Sawyer thrills at the idea of a child leading a lion in the Bible text chosen by his preacher, so long as it’s a tame one, and would probably have enjoyed joining in with singing “All things bright and beautiful” on the Children’s Hour recording, though maybe not with the same cut glass accents of the hand picked little angels introduced by Uncle Mac.

The cliché of a charismatic preacher, righteous in the pulpit and tyrannical in the community, makes frequent appearances in drama and literature, but the young Jane Eyre shows some quick thinking when confronted by the threat of eternal damnation by her own domineering priest. Avoid Hell by staying well and not dying – sorted! The music here is one of my favourite films scores by the incomparable Malcolm Arnold. The 1961 film “Whistle down the Wind” tells the story of a group of children (starring a youthful Hayley Mills) who discover a fugitive in the barn and mistake him for Jesus. Arnold has a unique talent to touch hearts with his almost manipulative writing and the poignancy of the story leaves a stronger impression thanks to the music.

In any community death is never far away, but unless it affects us personally it is mostly kept hidden these days. For a parish priest it is a part of every day life and one of the most important social functions he or she will perform is not only to officiate at funerals, but to act as an unofficial bereavement counsellor to the remaining loved ones. A professional counsellor would have had years of specific training to do this, whereas a priest relies much more heavily on their natural sympathetic nature (which tends to go with the job) and years of experience. John Pritchard’s eloquently written book “The life and work of a priest” is a profound source of wisdom and experience and his description of how a priest should approach a bereaved family goes straight to the heart of what parish clergy find most challenging – the death of a child.

J.S. Bach’s music is inextricably linked with his own immovable faith and the words in his motet “O Jesu Christ, meins Lebens Licht” appeal to Christ to open wide the gates of Heaven. In my opinion, Bach’s music will always be appropriate in the most tragic of circumstances, but James MacMillan’s searing setting of similar words, dedicated to the dead of the Dunblane tragedy in 1996, also easily rises to the challenge.

Benjamin Britten’s Nicolas grows jauntily from a baby to a Bishop, returning the mood to a happier place, and here we can savour some comedy with the self important Mr Collins from Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” (enjoy the characterisation provided by Celia Imrie), along with “The Vicar of Bray” who is happy to adapt his ministry to the whims of whoever is on the throne at the time.

Much of daily clergy business is fairly mundane and Simon Nash in his crime mystery novel “Unhallowed murder” has written perhaps one of the best descriptions I have yet seen of the sheer tedium of PCC meetings. Michael Kitchen’s deadpan, sardonic interpretation will resonate with anybody who has ever attended a meeting in a cold church.

Another constant pressure for clergy is that everybody wants a piece of them, and for Sweeney Todd that is no metaphor, as he and Mrs Lovett tuck into “A Little Priest” for supper. Adey Grummet’s hilarious account of life as a vicar’s wife in “Suddenly he thinks he’s a sunbeam” reflects my own experience very accurately, with beggars ringing the doorbell every day and asking for train fares to attend funerals in Scotland (a very common “story”, and on at least one occasion at our vicarage it was to the funeral of the same parent who had died a few months previously).

The Anglican Church will always be in crisis, whether it be with financial worries, falling congregation numbers or wrestling with controversial decisions about who should and shouldn’t be ordained. However, R.S. Thomas, who himself was an Anglican clergyman, in his poem “The Priest” comes to the conclusion that whatever people may think, the priest is still a necessary and important part of the community. He or she will always continue to pray for the souls of the parish, whether or not they venture through the church door. As William Harris’s exquisite setting of (priest) John Donne’s prayer “Bring us o Lord” fade away, and the bells ring across Ketèlbey’s sentimentalised meadow, the prayers continue to be said by priests all over the world.

Producer: Helen Garrison