One of the best-known traditions of the Scottish Church of a bye-gone day was that "diet of examination" known as Catechising. This was the time when the Minister of the church set off around his parish to call on his members and examine them as to their spiritual growth from the words of the Westminster Catechism and from the Word of God itself.
Needless to say, this was an exercise that was of great spiritual worth to many, but, man, being what he is, it was also a time that produced much humourous and homely. Many of the "examining brethren," such as the great Dr. Chambers, were kindly disposed towards their "pupils" and were always ready to take the blame for not receiving the right answer by saying that they had asked the question rather badly.
The people learnt to play on such kindness. "Master Wilson," asked the visiting minister, "What is the chief end of man?" "Deed, sir," came the reply, "it's not for me to presume to answer such a question as that, I fain would hear it from yourself." Taken aback by such "humility" the minister was forced to pass on to the next member of the household who happened to be the ploughman. "Tell me," the minister asked, "What kind of a man was Adam?" "Oh," said the ploughman, "just like other folk." This time the minister refused to be sidetracked by such generality, and he pressed for an "exposition" of the reply. "Well, sir," ventured the ploughman, "Adam was gey like Joe Sim the bookmaker." "Oh," said the minister, his interest aroused, "in what respect, James?" "In this way, sir: nobody got anything from him, and many lost." That was right sound theology even though "James failed to couch it in theological terms, but "experimental" theology is of the cream of the milk.
"Old William" found it so, as well. "William," asked the minister of the old worthy who was reckoned to be an exponent of the Book of Job, "do you mean to tell me that you find the Book of Job simple?" "Well," said the old man, "here and there are few dark places, but it' simple enough." "Oh," said the visitor, "then show me on of these simple places." William's reply was of the most "experimental" nature. "Well," he said, "when Job asks, 'Is there any taste in the white of an egg?' A body soon knows the answer to that if there's nae salt on the table."
Turning the tables on the minister was one of the favourite occupations of some of those examined, and for this they had gained a reputation. It was the chief weapon of an old woman of Louden to get the Minister to "gang owre the fundamentals" before he would begin, so that she be sure that he himself was "sound." By the time this was done, of course, there was little time for anything else. Others had their own methods and some of the greatest of Divines fell foul of their ingenuity.
So it happened with the famous Ralph Erskine. Having been requested by his brother Ebenezer to catechise in his parish of Abernethy, he was also warned by the latter not to tangle with one, Walter Simpson, the local blacksmith. "You'll find all my folk easy to examine except one," said Ebenezer, "and him I reckon you had better not meddle with. He has an old-fashioned way of answering a question by asking another, and maybe he'll affront you." The learned doctor of divinity was indignant: "Do you think he can foil me with my own natural tools?" he asked. "I'm giving you fair warning," said the anxious brother, "you'd better not call him up in your catechising." That evening, in the crowded church hall, the great man decided that he would lay his Goliath low with the very first stone of the night. "Tell me," he thundered out, directing his question to the swarthy blacksmith, "how long did Adam remain in a state of innocence?" "Just till he got a wife, sir," came Walter's answer; "But, can you tell me, minister," he added in characteristic style, "how long did he stand after that?" The noted Divine had no answer, and Walter was respectfully asked to resume his seat.
A similar fate befell the minister of the fishing village of St. Vigeans. Having failed to get any kind of an answer to his "deep" theological query, he began to upbraid his flock. Setting the question to them – as if in a final effort that would exhaust his patience for ever – he drew this comment from an aged fisherman: "You see, minister," he said, "we canna exactly say what the answer to your question is, but can you tell us, minister, how many hooks it taks to bait a fifteenscore haddie line?" Our source of information fails to supply the minister's answer, and suggests that there is none on record.
However, the "pupils" didn't have it all their own way, not even when it came to physical tuition that a few of our Highland ministers sometimes thought their flock stood in need of. On one occasion, the minister called on a house whose tenant was both a strong man and a strong sinner before the Lord. "I come to discharge my duties to God, to your conscience, and my own," stated the minister. "I care not for any three," resorted the man, and set about the minister. It was a fatal mistake that he made, for he ended-up on the floor of his own house bound hand and foot receiving the words of instruction.
Article by W.J. Seaton 1970
