Lynda Peilow is sitting in a Dublin hotel foyer and everyone who's passing does a double take. It's not just that Lynda is a beautiful young woman, who would turn heads under any circumstances. It's also the presence of an ecclesiasticaldog-collar, which is clearly visible under the neck of her pink crochet jumper. The juxtaposition is definitely a bit surreal. We're not yet used to seeing women wearing dog collars in this country.

Recently turned 24, Lynda Peilow will become the Church of Ireland's youngest priest when she is ordained at Christ Church Cathedral on September 13th. The minimum age for priests is 24 and she is the last of her classmates at theTheological College in Braemor Park, Churchtown, to be ordained.

She sits over coffee in Wynne's Hotel, her iridescent nail-varnish shining. The couple sitting opposite are openly staring.

"I've been doing a summer camp with children all week and I'm a bit zonked," she laughs. She doesn't seem to notice the stares, but she has probably got used to it during her time as an assistant curate in the last year.

What attracted her to a life in the church? "Like any teenager, I had lots of thoughts running through my head about what I wanted to do," Lynda explains. "I considered primary-school teaching, or something in the medical line. But ordination always was the strongest draw, even from the age of 13 or 14. When I really thought about it, teaching seemed like it would be more of a sideline. Something to fall back on. I didn't feel teaching was something I'd want to be doing for the rest of my life. I knew unless I followed my vocation, I'd never be at peace."

Lynda, who is from the Offaly village of Geashill, left school when she was 16, due to ill health. "I studied for my Leaving Cert via a correspondence course. I did seven subjects." When she was 19, she was accepted for training in theChurch of Ireland; a three-year process which includes studying for a theology degree at Trinity, as well as learning about counselling in a range of situations, such as bereavement.

"We were quite a large class. There were 16 of us, and seven women in my year. That was out of the ordinary. There were no women in the year above us and none in the year below, either. Yes, I was quite young. A lot of the others were latevocations. There were a lot of women in my year, but I wouldn't like to have the female angle be made too much of. We were all there for the same reasons, whether male or female." She frowns, reluctant to be drawn on the issue.

But the fact that the Church of Ireland allows women to become priests is significant, since the Catholic church most emphatically does not. "I suppose sometimes I think about other women out there, around my age, who would love to do what I'm able to do, but they can't because they're Catholic. I feel sorry for them. I mean, I don't know what I'd have done if I couldn't follow my calling."

Ordained a deacon almost a year ago, Lynda has been working as assistant curate alongside the rector, Paul Colton, in the west Dublin parishes of Castleknock and Clonsilla. "I'm training in aspects of parish life." What does this involve? "I teach religion in secondary schools, I'm assistant chaplin at the James Connolly Memorial Hospital, I do regular visiting within the parish. On Sundays, I worship and preach. What I preach depends on the type of service it is, whether it's matins, or a baptism, or whatever. I always put a lot of time into preparing my sermons. I want to give something that people can take away with them and think about during the week."

The formal, ritualistic language which characterises many of the standard by-words and phrases of religious life, has a way of sounding awkwardly archaic when spoken by such a young person. Such expressions jolt into the conversation now and then. "By being ordained, I can be an ambassador of Christ," Lynda says. "As part of my training, I visit the sick and the housebound."

Perhaps because Lynda will shortly be the youngest Church of Ireland priest, she is understandably anxious to stress how seriously she takes her responsibilities, something which emerges in unexpected ways as the interviewprogresses. When I write down the title of the last book she remembers reading for pleasure, she looks alarmed. "You're not going to put that in, are you?" Lynda asks, aghast.

If the book in question was a trashy bodice-ripper or some such racy blockbuster, the question would not seem so surprising, but it is in fact Jostein Gaarder's serious and critically successful Sophie's World, which explores a 14-year-old girl's questions about philosophy.

What does she find the most difficult part of her vocation? "How emotionally draining it can be," she says, straight away. "I could be going from a wedding to a funeral in the same day. Or from a baptism to a sickbed. I have to learn how to switch off without being cold."

At present, Lynda is living in a parish house in Clonsilla. What happens when she is ordained? "I'll be there for three years anyway, to start with. It's a three-year placement. And you're consulted about where you are sent, so you do have some choice."

With marriage allowed within the Church of Ireland, and the associated socialising involved in building up relationships, what is the social life like? "I work very unsocial hours and tend to get very tired, like this week, working with the children, so it's not always easy to get time to meet people. But a lot of my close friends would be ordained themselves, so they'd understand."

What is the question she is asked most frequently?

"Why?" Lynda answers simply. "And why so young?" Then she shrugs and grins, with the expression of one who knows she'll be hearing these questions for a long time yet.