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Which sounds an extraordinary linkage but trust me, dear reader. In 1951, the men of the Divinity Class in Trinity College Dublin were hoping to be ordained. Towards the end of the Trinity Term the only hurdle that remained was what was called the Viva. It not only sounds medieval, it was indeed medieval. Having done all our written exams we faced an oral in New Testament Greek, a test officially known as a Viva - Viva Voce or By voice. This you had to pass to be allowed to be ordained.

One sat before a professor who had in front of him a copy of the New Testament in Greek. After welcoming you to his table - formally rather than without any great warmth of friendship - he would open his Testament, point to a passage and say with chilling solemnity Mr. (Whatever your name was) - would you please translate from verse 10 to verse 25 of such and such chapter of the Gospel or Epistle he had chosen. This was your last chance to redeem yourself if you had done a poor written exam. This Viva Voce test was worth ten all-important marks in your final exam. To pass it you had to get at least 4 out of 10.

Now to the occasion I recall. There were three of us in the small room, the King's Professor in Divinity and two of us final year students, myself and one of the most well-known sports figures in European Rugby whom we shall call G.M., incidentally one of the most liked student in our year. However, it was not a secret that G. was not an outstanding scholar in New Testament Greek. When the prof suggested G. go first, I knew that what I was about to overhear would not be pretty, and it wasn’t. Valiantly, with many self-corrections, apologies, wrinkling of the brow, and gazing at the ceiling, G. at last stumbled to a halt.

There was silence while the prof closed his New Testament and prepared his verdict. Then he said something I thought I was imaging. With quite a pleasant expression on his face he looked at G. and said “You know, for an international rugger player, you’re not a bad classicist, then, pausing, he added the all-important mark - 4!

I had little time for wonder. I was duly called and presented with a long passage in Greek awaiting translation. As with G, Greek had not been my favourite subject. Desperately I searched for the odd Greek word that I might know in English. Mercifully I recognized the word Samaritan, and I was saved to stumble through our Lord's well-known story. Humbled and feeling rather miserable, I was relieved beyond measure to hear the professor say rather dryly the single word - Five!

Many years later G and I would meet in St. Patrick’s National Cathedral one Sunday at the Church parade of one of the elite Guard regiments - the Irish Guards - where I had heard that G would be the preacher.  By then he had for some years been rector in the parish In Sandringham where he had had a most royal parishioner when she visited and where she attended service most faithfully. Always, G told me, on Saturday evening the Queen would come bearing flowers for the altar for Sunday.

You will wish to know what we talked about as aging clergy. Many things of course but one thing we recalled was that long ago “Viva" morning when like desperate swimmers we struggled as drowning men reaching for the bank. I learned something that solved a mystery for me. That magical pass mark of four out of ten. It happened for a very simple reason. The Archbishop Kings Professor of Divinity that day of our Viva exams also happened to be, mirabile dictu, the President of the University Rugby Club.

As far as my getting a grudging 5 mark? I assume our reverend examiner was feeling so good about rescuing G. for the future of International Rugby that he decided to allow me to survive, thus bringing it to pass that decades later the Parish of Royal Sandringham would have a rector and Christ Church Cathedral Vancouver a dean.