The Headless Horseman
W. Carl Ketcherside
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In The Inner Hebrides and Their Legends, Otta Swire tells the story of "Ewen of the Little Head," a warrior of note on the island of Mull in the fifteenth century. Ewen was a swaggering ill-tempered brute who was married to "a MacDougall of Lorn, an equally unattractive character." When he could no longer control his son, the father of Ewen sent to a relative, Maclean of Duart, asking for help. Duart was only too glad to invade the country.
When word came to Ewen about the attack he consulted a "Wise Woman" who told him that on the morning when he was arming for the fight if his wife served him butter with his breakfast unasked he would be victorious, but if not he and his two sons would be slain.
Breakfast came with no butter on the table so Ewen raved and ranted about the food. When his wife brought no butter he stormed from the house and malevolently turned his hunting dogs loose in her dairy.
Ewen tied himself in the saddle to keep from being accidentally knocked from his steed during the shock of the fray, but when the battle was joined in Glen Forsa a stroke from a broadsword swept off his head. The author describes what followed thus: "His horse, with his headless body still upright in the saddle, bolted from the field and for many days thereafter it was seen careering in mad terror up and down glens and passes and along precipices and paths fit only for goats. At last, utterly exhausted, it al-
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This is an apt portrayal of the "institutional church" in our day. It rides high in the saddle and battles the political, economic and social forces which threaten our earthly pilgrimage. It has been so designed, drafted and departmentalized, that it can function automatically, spasmodically and by reflex action. Every reaction has been purposely planned, programmed and perfected by professional promoters, so that even our prayers must fit into a schedule, and one must hang up the receiver on God when the clock strikes.
The Holy Spirit no longer dares to shake the house where the saints are gathered. There is no place in the agenda into which we could possibly work a house-shaking experience. Besides, we would first have to secure permission from the City Architect or from the Municipal Building Code Inspector. So "the church" goes on swinging and swaying without realizing that something vital is missing. The "church" has lost her head!
The world does not realize it because she is roped up with rituals, laced up with liturgies, fastened with formularies and shackled by sacred solemnities. In her own consummate ignorance she thinks God is dead even while she is a corpse in a surplice. Like Samson, shorn of the locks of his strength, she arises as her custom has been, to shake herself, without knowing that the Spirit has departed from her.
But the thrilling thing is that "the institutional church" becomes a phantom when she is beheaded and the simple saints who cling more closely to the Savior constitute the real body. Only those joined to the One Lord by the One Spirit are members of that blessed company. Frequently these are disowned by the headless corpse fastened to the frightened stallion of carnal ambition, but they are recognized by the Head and will be gathered unto Him in that day "'when he cometh to make up his jewels."