It was grade 10 at Magee High School. Magee was a school which sent 90% of its students straight on to University, so of course, it was academically programmed. Magee did not have all the "shops" which we were used to at our Junior High School, Point Grey (which we called the "prison" because of its general appearance, and the strict hallway rules.)

But there was one "shop" at Magee - Woodworking - in the basement ("shops" were always in the basement). Our Teacher was a person I will never forget - Mr. Thomas Chippendale.

Yes, we noted that was a most appropriate name for a woodwork teacher - Chippendale. It conjured up the name renowned for fine English furniture. "Yes," said Mr. Chippendale, "I am related to that family." His British accent certainly supported that claim.

Mr. Chippendale taught us to love wood, and to respect the tools used for shaping wood. Everything must be sharp, very sharp. Tools had to be held in a certain way.

My friend Glenn told me recently that Mr. Chippendale once grabbed him around the throat. "You choke my hammers, I choke you!" he threatened.

"You must be a Craftsman!" The way he pronounced "Craftsman" was with a tone which indicated that there could be no more noble calling than crafting something out of wood. I can hear today the way he said "Craftsman" (sounded to Canadian ears more like "Crofstman"!).

We learned to examine the grain of wood so intimately that we could draw it in our sleep.

"Look carefully at a piece of lumber and notice the pattern of the grain on the face of the lumber. Now turn the lumber on the side, and notice the difference in grain. Now examine the endgrain."

Respecting the grains in wood prepared us for obeying the rules in the wood. Few of us showed promise of one day being considered "Craftsmen". But we were learning a deep respect for those who were.

There was a special smell in the woodworking room which you soon identify as coming from the glue pot which was always boiling away on its burner. This was not some white paste in a plastic tube. This was real made-from-horses-hooves glue. I can smell it today. I enjoyed the smell. It was the right smell for a woodworking shop.

After we did the mandatory cutting and shaping projects, learning to use the band saw, lathes and drills, we were ready for the BIG PROJECT - a Table, a small table for beside the bed or for the telephone. We could take it home when it was finished!

We were to measure carefully the sides, the back. Put the curve just in the right place. Mr. Chippendale had figured it out, I now realize, so that we would use every procedure we had learned. The one drawer would be mortised together, and must fit exactly right.

Years later I learned the magic of plastic wood, which could fill in and cover over any mistake. Mr. Chippendale would have been shocked by using some plastic wood product to fill in the holes. "You must be a Craftsman!"

At the outset of my Big Project I made an error in measuring up my "sides". I cut them 1 inch short on each side. With great shame, I pointed out my error to Mr. Chippendale. He said it was alright, just keep on and adapt the other measurements to it. I now wonder if he knew the terrible lesson I would be learning.

I wish now he had told me to throw away that wood and start again, because every woodwork class for weeks I was presented with my own mistake. My table was different from everyone else's. There is no forgiveness with wood!

Nonetheless that Table graced our first home - usually as our telephone table. I never made anything finer with my hands. And I never lost a love and respect for wood.

Mr. Chippendale never spoke to us about anything far removed from wood. Certainly not Religion.

But I do remember one day him bringing to class something he was working on. It was a kind of panel which looked to me like it was intended for the front of a Church. It was just a small section and I noticed that he had fashioned all the in-curves with the special curved carving chisels, just as he had taught us in class. It was beautiful work. The work of a true Craftsman.

Someone may have asked him what it was for, and he may have responded that it was for a Church. I can't remember. It was over 30 years later when I had reason to try to recall that conversation.

I went on to other classes at Magee and never really saw Mr. Chippendale again. At University I took Commerce courses. Never did take another "shop" course.

Did someone tell me that he had retired and become a Priest? I remember something about that.

The year was 1980. I was now a Minister in the United Church of Canada. Yes, I did graduate in Commerce, then trained as a Chartered Accountant. But at age 34 I went back to school, to Theological College and trained for the Ministry. Now I was serving a University-area congregation, which was allied with an Anglican congregation.

I was attending a "Deanery" meeting in St. Chad's Anglican Church in Vancouver, B. C. This was a regular meeting of the Anglican clergy of the district to which I, as a United Church Minister, was invited because I had duties in one of their Anglican Churches. Geoff, the Rector, showed me through his Church. The main altar, pulpit, lectern, the flags and pews. Over to the side I saw a door which indicated a small chapel for small marriages and early morning Eucharist.

When I opened the door my eyes confronted a miniature Church, a few pews and in front - an altar rail, then a small pulpit, a lectern, an altar. Over the altar, in finely chiselled in curves were the words SANCTUS SANCTUS SANCTUS.

"That's Mr. Chippendale's!"

I had not stepped into the room, had not touched one of the objects, not yet seen the inscriptions dedicating each item to a dearly loved relative. I could tell from the work of his hands.

Then I read carefully the message on the small plaque outside the door of the tiny chapel:

The Altar in this chapel, as well as the Altar Rail, the Bible Lectern, the Credence Table and the large wooden processional cross, have been hand-carved by Thomas Chippendale in memory of his youngest daughter, Ananda, who passed away in her teens. Mr. Chippendale is a direct descendant of the famous English furniture designer and cabinet maker of the eighteenth century.

Born in Lancaster, England, on April 10th, 1885, Thomas apprenticed to his father, a wood carving craftsman, while attending technical school and the Harris Institute at Preston. Before coming to Canada in 1912 Mr. Chippendale received a B.Sc Degree at Oregon State College in the United States.

Known as one of Vancouver's pioneer high school teachers, Mr. Chippendale was also one of the Founders of the Vancouver Technical School. After a teaching career of four decades Mr. Chippendale entered the services of the Liberal Catholic Church and was ordained in that Church.

It took Mr. Chippendale four years to complete the Altar of native white pine, the Communion Rail, the Lectern, the Credence Table and Processional Cross.

The Altar was dedicated by the right Rev. Sir Francis Heathcotte, Bishop of New Westminster, on June 23rd, 1951.

The Rev. Thomas Chippendale passed to his eternal rest on November 10, 1958.

I never did become a Craftsman.

My hands were too clumsy when they picked up a tool. But I loved the smell of the various woods which grow naturally in my home province. And I could still tell you the difference between an end grain and a top grain in a piece of finished lumber.

But I had learned that not all teaching is with words. And I learned that some gifted people may express their love through something made with their hands. By their handiwork they can be known.

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"When I consider thy heavens,
the work of thy fingers,
the moon and the stars
which thou hast ordained;
what is man that thou art mindful of him...?"

from Psalm 8

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