Courtesy of the scandalously-shod blogger posted below, we have discovered Keene's Kwikies, which at first glance seems cranky enough to make us sit up straight. Consider these goodies:
... a couple of weeks back one of the Sunday readings included St. Paul’s exhortation to ’shun fornication’, or ‘SHUN FORNICATION!’ as I belted it out climbing into the pulpit for the sermon creating a stirring silence among the geezers. Then, ‘Well, that’s at least one sin we don’t have to worry about, eh? Nobody in this room has the energy for it anymore.’
We'll just put that sermon idea into storage for later use. And then there's this, reporting from a "tri-synodical theological conference," which -- whatever it is exactly -- has to be better than the Ministerium we described a few days back:
... the doofus of the decade award goes to the emcee of the whole affair whom let’s just call Pastor Areyououtofyourfuckingmind? Pete.
We'll just put that sermon idea into storage for later use. And then there's this, reporting from a "tri-synodical theological conference," which -- whatever it is exactly -- has to be better than the Ministerium we described a few days back:
... the doofus of the decade award goes to the emcee of the whole affair whom let’s just call Pastor Areyououtofyourfuckingmind? Pete.
Okay. Right there, we started to swoon. We know that guy, we're sure of it! But he continues:
Most pastors enjoy being in front of the crowds, else, of course, they wouldn’t be doing what they do. It’s fun to be up front and have everybody looking at you, depending on you, under your control (at least, talking-wise). It’s fun enough to do it in the parish, but to do it in front of three hundred other clergy—to have them looking up to you—is a clerical wet dream.
[That said, Pete's job, to serve as emcee, is] pretty basic and easy. Unless, of course, you think you’re real important to the whole thing, which is apparently what happened to Pete, whose rushing around in a collar and bouncing pectoral cross were a dead giveaway right from the get-go that he was big time into the performance, ’cause a clerical collar, well, okay, but a pectoral cross is an affectation unless you’re a bishop in a formal setting, a top hat at church camp, as it were.
A point worth noting, there, and one rarely made. Father A. owns two pectoral crosses, of incalculable sentimental value. He wears one or the other now and then, discreetly under a chasuble, as a reminder that when presiding in one's own parish, one is a sort of bishop. But he gets a bit testy about the people who wear them with street clothes, especially at synodical events where one's own bishop is present. We can't all be the blessed bishop, now, can we?
1 comment:
I just discovered this blog. What a surprise and compliment to be plagiarized. Thanks.
Larry
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