There are days in the Church when we celebrate the great luminaries of the faith — Augustine, Teresa of Ávila, the Venerable Bede, and that one medieval bishop whose chief accomplishment seems to have been “died peacefully, thanks be to God.” But in the spirit of holy mischief — and with a nod to Stephen Leacock’s belief that life is always funnier when one is not entirely in control — I propose a new addition to the liturgical calendar:
The Feast of the Wardens.
(Preferably placed after Pentecost, when everyone is still feeling brave.)
You see, wardens are those valiant, sturdy souls who keep the parish from drifting into mild but unmistakable chaos. They are the quiet saints who ensure the lights don’t flicker like a haunted castle, the boiler doesn’t develop a contemplative life of its own, and the roof — by some miracle — remains roughly connected to the rest of the building.
I say “saints” deliberately. Consider the marks of holiness:
1. Patience beyond human measure.
Wardens possess a patience that would make Job blink twice. When the rector discovers at 9 a.m. on Sunday that the processional cross has been “misplaced” (again), the wardens do not panic. They simply walk calmly into the sacristy, move a single sheet of paper, and reveal the missing item — as though conjuring it from a parallel universe where everything is filed properly.
2. Miraculous problem-solving.
There are the moments — usually five minutes before a funeral — when the sound system emits a noise like an agitated goose. Parishioners panic. The rector prays. The wardens ap pear, fiddle with one cable, and immediately restore order. These small miracles go unrecorded in church history, but they are the reason the choir doesn’t revolt.
3. Long-suffering devotion to buildings.
Most saints wrestled lions or endured persecution; wardens grapple with peeling paint and interpretive dance performed by electrical wiring installed sometime during the Diefenbaker administration. They navigate boilers that make ominous sounds, roof lines that shift like tectonic plates, and budgets that cling to solvency with the tenacity of a wet bulletin board.
4. Keeping the rector calm.
This may be the highest calling of all. Somewhere in the Warden’s Manual (which I suspect is written on tablets of stone and stored in a locked drawer), there must be a line that reads: “Thou shalt not let the rector spiral.”
For every pastoral crisis I handle, there are seventeen practical ones the wardens quietly defuse. They hand me a cup of tea and say, “Don’t worry, we’ve taken care of it.” I never know what “it” is, but I am grateful all the same.
In truth, the ministry of the wardens is one of steadfast, hopeful service. They are custodians of mission, caretakers of community, and guardians of the parish teapot. They hold the sacred tension between tradition and possibility, between the roof that leaks and the future that gleams.
And so, I believe a Feast Day is not only appropriate — it is overdue.
Imagine it:
A special collect (“O God of flickering lights and forgotten keys…”), a hymn or two, perhaps even a ceremonial Offering of the Tools: keys, flashlights, duct tape, and whatever mystical object is required to fix the boiler.
After all, the Church has always needed saints.
She simply didn’t realize some of them come with toolboxes.
So here’s to the wardens: holy stewards, brave souls, faithful shepherds of the building fund, and the ones who keep the rector’s blood pressure in the green zone.
May their feast be blessed, their meetings short, and their photocopier jams few.
A Prayer for the Feast of the Wardens
Holy and gracious God,
We give you thanks for the wardens of your Church—
those steadfast souls who quietly bear the weight
of leaky roofs, flickering lights,
and the sacred mystery of where the keys have gone this time.
Bless them with wisdom in their decisions,
strength in their labours,
and patience — boundless patience —
for rectors, parish meetings, and boilers with opinions.
Grant them joy in their service,
companionship in their burdens,
and a deep sense of your presence
in every repaired hinge, balanced budget,
and Sunday morning saved from chaos.
May their work be a witness to your faithfulness,
their humour a sign of your grace,
and their hearts be filled with your peace.
This we pray in the name of Jesus Christ,
the true builder and cornerstone of your Church.
Amen.