( written by St. Thomas' Reverend John R. Yungblut. John R. Yungblut served St. Thomas between 1939-1951)
This is a story about Tillie, the most distinguished of the troupe of elephants in the John Robinson's Circus that used to have its winter quarters at Terrace Park, Ohio. This unusual circumstance of a little village annually hosting a circus menagerie naturally gave rise to manv stories. One that does not usually appear in the canon of accepted tales is the following. Some who know it maintain that it is slightly exaggerated, but others, while admitting that it is apocryphal, insist on its authenticity in every detail.
Now Tillie was taken on a daily exercise walk by her trainer with two other elephants, tail in trunk. She chanced on more than one occasion to witness the choir of St. Thomas Church forming to march in procession into the church for worship. After a time, Tillie conceived an inordinate desire to lead that impressive procession. After all, she had led the circus parades for years.
Some say an additional motivation was that Tillie was a feminist and was driven to usurp a role traditionally reserved for males. But I can't vouch for that. Anyway, she finally got up enough courage to confront the Rector with her petition.
Being a pastor with some repressed passion for the theatrical, his active imagination went into play, and it was not long before he gave his consent.
It was harder to convince the Vestry of the church for permission to depart from custom in this way, but they were ultimately persuaded on the ground that the spectacle would increase attendance and consequently enlarge the Sunday offerings needed to complete the ambitious building plans.
When the Altar Guild was requested to make the appropriate vestments, there was a temporary negative stir on the part of those who held that the amount of material required to vest Tillie would make new cassocks and surplices for the entire choir. But the voices of dissent were overridden, as most were excited by the challenge. Moreover, the dissenters were mollified when the decision was made that Tillie's voice did not qualify her to sing in the choir, save perhaps to provide trumpet sounds as a prelude to the Easter Service. Tillie, meantime, had completely disarmed the other acolytes, who were all on her side. They did not even object to Tillie serving as the number one crucifer because it was obvious that with her trunk she could carry the cross higher than any of them.
Some architectural alteration had indeed to be made to accommodate Tillie's girth in the limited area reserved for the choir stalls, but it was not difficult to persuade one of the "angels" in the congregation to volunteer the necessary funds.
After some preliminary dress rehearsals, all was ready for the installation of Tillie as first string acolyte, crucifer. On this occasion no one was more calm and restrained than Tillie. She lumbered down the aisle with the greatest dignity and at precisely the right pace, neither too fast nor too slow, and in perfect rhythm with the opening hymn. When she came in front of the altar she genuflected in the most natural, graceful way. After all she had been trained to curtsey in her circus
performances for years .
She always considered the climax of her part in the service the extinguishing of the candles at the conclusion of the liturgy. Most of the congregation as well found this the high point of the ritual. She would genuflect and, on rising, extend her trunk in a great arc and go whooossshhh, never failing to blow out the candle the very first try. In crossing to the other side of the altar to blow out the other candle, she would genuflect again in front of the cross, before extinguishing the second candle.
Though I am grieved to tell the end of the story, honesty compels me to do so. After performing for many years in this manner, "going from strength to strength in the life of perfect service," one might says Tillie grew ecclesiastically ambitious. She made the crucial mistake of applying to the bishop for holy orders. Whether or not the bishop felt threatened by her great popularity in the Diocese, so some conjectured, and despite the fact that St. Thomas' congregation had increased by leaps and bounds, the bishop excommunicated Tillie. And so it was that this unique service came to an end.