Fr. Troll's Christmas Sermon

Contrary to what many people believe, My Dearly Beloved Sinners, there’s more to Christmas than just giving expensive presents to your Vicar. It is in fact a time full of wonder, a season of ever-unfolding mysteries.

Consider, for example, the wise men from the east. That we hear nothing further of them in Scripture is undoubtedly because the early church recognized the inappropriateness of their gifts, and decided to avoid any future contact. I mean to say, what kind of gifts are gold, frankincense, and myrrh for a male infant? What’s wrong with something more traditional, like cigarettes, handguns, and plenty of ammunition? And why didn’t they also bring Joseph something; say a Cuban cigar and DVD of babes in bikinis demonstrating the evils of communism? Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve never trusted men who give girly presents and feign an interest in astrology.

Or why were the names of Mary’s midwives not recorded? Perhaps Bethlehem’s medical services were also in the process of socialist transformation, and the nurses were doing a little moon-lighting on the side for cash? Or did Mary give birth alone and unassisted in the privacy of a public lavatory, thereby enjoying the very same right that Republicans are today bravely fighting to preserve for single and impoverished young women?

And the shepherds: why were they permitted to take up space in the infant Christ’s presence that could have been offered to more important people? Wasn’t there anyone in town who understood the basics of Strategic Ministry and the trickle-down effect? Or what happened to their flocks while they were away? Did the angels fill in during their absence? And if so do the angels work for the standard subsistence rate, or has heavenly unionization enabled them to collectively bargain for better conditions?

No; the more deeply one examines the events of this far off Christmas morning the more one is faced by questions. We may never know the answers, itself a great blessing to anyone seeking an interesting topic for their doctoral thesis, but one thing we do know: God is vastly more complex and wonderful than any of us can dare imagine. Otherwise it’s a certainty this whole messy incarnational mystery would have been rejected long before any little drummer boy could have even started playing his per-ruppa-pum-bum business. On his drum, ad infinitum. And as a special treat for you all I’m now not going to link to the Bob Seger version recorded in 1987. I’m Father Christian, and occasionally I do show mercy.

After all, it is Christmas, and I’d like each and every one of you to have a very merry day indeed. God Bless all of you!

Three steps to Greater Doctrinal Purity

Some people walk through a rose garden, and filled with joy by the glorious colors, are entranced by the music of the flower’s gentle fragrance, and wonder in amazement at the complexity of the world in which we live. Others see plant genitalia. Which were created on Day 3 of God’s 7 day project development phase.

If you’re not one of the latter group the Good News is that you’re facing eternal loving torture unless you immediately and totally change everything yourself. Billy Graham’s choir may have sung Just As I Am while the busses waited, but you’d better believe that Just-as-you-are isn’t nearly good enough for our gracious and forgiving Father in Heaven. Or at least it isn’t for his GAFCON representatives, of which I am unquestionably the Most Important.

Nevertheless; my caring pastoral heart has today inspired me to present a brief three-step guide to improving your miserably sinful existence. Following these tips won’t make you as righteous as me, of course, but as long as you’ve got a heterosexually-inclined penis they’ll certainly help you become a bishop in ACNA. Or a house-elf in Sydney, if you’re too sartorially challenged.

Step One: Find a local park in which Sinners are enjoying themselves and search for dog droppings.
Shout in warning to passers-by whenever you manage locate a piece of excrement, and rant angrily at every dog-walker you meet – particularly those in the act of picking up their pet’s refuse. Don’t worry if you live in an area where everyone cleans up after their dog: artificial prank droppings can be easily purchased over the internet, or better still keep a real one handy in your pocket and plant it when nobody’s looking.
Practice this regularly until you can no longer view any public recreation area without growing furious at the plethora of turds you know are lurking somewhere on the lawns. Lose sight of the park and it’s beauty, and remain focused on the faeces. Learn to take them personally.

Step Two: Cultivate an appropriate facial expression.
Women should practice keeping their lips pursed in emulation of a cat’s rear end, although this is not recommended for men other than those leading prominent “ex-gay” ministries. Smiling should under all circumstances be avoided, and I generally recommend men simply endeavor to look like me: I realize this isn’t easy for those of you not as naturally handsome as myself, but that’s still no excuse for not trying.
Failing which the gentleman pictured below is admirable role model for those wishing to cultivate an expression conveying the love, mercy, and joy God shows to those who are truly faithful:


I believe he’s the founder of a missionary group with whom Bishop Quinine enjoys fellowship whenever he gets the urge to eat cheap curry and grope confused hippy girls in saris. Certainly only a foreigner would permit himself to be photographed unshaven, but with a little orthodontic work he’d bear an uncanny resemblance to Ted Haggard after a hard night of being “heterosexual with issues”.

Step Three: Enforce rules.
St. Paul (or somebody like him) may have redeemed us from the law, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place in the Conservative Christian’s life for countless petty regulations. Explode in anger when somebody stands at the wrong time during the service, or passively-aggressively undermine your Vicar when he omits a minor detail from your favorite liturgy. Commit the 39 Articles to memory, and send letters of complaint to the Bishop whenever you believe one of them are transgressed – or if the Bishop’s at fault send them to all their diocesan clergy.

Respond with pedantic fury when “off-topic” comments are left on blogs - especially if the blog isn’t your own. Leave warning notes on parish visitor’s cars you believe were inexpertly parked during church services. Argue incessantly over the doctrine of the Trinity with Unitarians. Photograph your neighbor’s trash to keep a record of when they don’t recycle properly. Refuse to accept illness as an excuse for someone not taking their turn on the roster to shovel snow from the church sidewalks. And never, ever allow yourself to consider the implications of God sharing our humanity through the birth of a baby one long-ago Christmas.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

A little Theology for Advent.

No quality is as vital to effective Christian ministry as a sense of balance. Indeed, I personally believe that if a Clergyman can’t ride a unicycle he should never be considered completely trustworthy.

Take Calvinism, for example. Were I not a Christian I too would find myself drawn to a doctrine proposing a proportion of sentient beings are created for no other ultimate purpose than eternal torture. Given a bad enough day I might even find His Name glorified by their misery, although I would probably first have to develop a strangely sexual admiration for bullies – remind me to contact little Matt Kennedy or the Ould Twins for help in this regard.

At the other end of the spectrum the Aminian/Wesleyan alternative is hardly an improvement, and as a Christian I also find it an unacceptable option. The idea of waiting on the sidelines while someone you love “chooses” to plunge headlong into hellfire might be admirably stoic, but try using that as a justification next time a toddler fries their hand on your kitchen stove (“He’d been warned about touching it in a series of books and letters written 2,000 years ago, so he’s only got himself to blame”) and see how the Child Protection Agency buy it. Nor will the vicarious atonement argument (“Yeah, but my son also burnt his hand, and he did it first”) carry enough weight to stop the court issuing a permanent injunction against you hosting children’s parties.

No my Dearly Beloved Sinners; the genius of Anglicanism has been to tread a path between extremes, and that’s why we’ve held together over the centuries. The lunatic fringes have been drifting off to furtive meetings in rented halls since the first Elizabeth was a princess, but the core has remained regardless. Bobby Duncan may be the latest defrocked cleric with dreams of founding a new Zion, but he won’t be the last. Nor should anyone ever let themselves get to impressed by the likes of ex++Akinola’s rhetoric: when you’re preaching abroad it’s easy to appear as if you’ve got things under control. The real test is what parishioners are willing to do for $50 and a packet of American cigarettes when they think nobody’s watching – and no matter what the extremists will claim you’d better believe that’ll go a long way in Abuja when Big Pete’s out of town.

Which is why mature Sinners know the Christian life is a lot like captaining a ship through an ice field: take things slowly, keep a clear head and sharp eyes, and steer a gentle course straight down the middle, all while keeping your mind focused on the real task at hand – not drowning. Crashing into icebergs and other immutable objects (like sexuality) is no way to reach one’s destination, as I’m sure Captain Edward Smith would testify were he still with us. And as I fear Prelates emulating his example today will learn the hard way. I'd like to say the average person in the pew will miss them when they've gone - but the truth is they won't. Although their travel agents ought to send a lovely wreath: it's an ill wind of dubious doctrine that doesn't blow gently for someone.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

A Liberal Conspiracy Exposed & Defeated

My apologies for the past few days’ silence, Dearly Beloved Sinners, but I’ve been away on a crucial diplomatic mission to the peaceful and prosperous nation of Uganda. Mind you, however, it’s not half the place it was when I last visited as a guest of dear old President Amin, but I suppose that’s to be expected, since he did have the other half executed.

Indeed, you’ve probably all read about how I persuaded the Ugandan government to to abandon the just principle of sentencing a tenth of their population to death, and I’ve no doubt you’ve been wondering why a Doctrinal Warrior of my standing has been seeking to subvert such a fine initiative, especially since there’s no denying that if ever a country hasn’t enjoyed its fair share of mindless bloodshed it’s Uganda. So I’ll let you all into a secret which explains why I was compelled to become involved: the proposed legislation was actually a liberal conspiracy!!!!

Now I’ve got to admit that I was also initially skeptical when Brother Richthofen and his friends from seminary told me this, but upon objective Biblically-guided reflection it became clear that they were right. So right, in fact, that I had to heed the call of my young Ministry Team member and his friends to prevent this apostate Trojan-horse from being enshrined in Ugandan jurisprudence.

As they explained, this law would have given legitimate grounds under international law for any Ugandan man with refined taste in cologne and the ability to dance, or any Ugandan woman with sensible shoes, a Subaru and dogs, to obtain refugee status in the western nation of their choice. Whereupon, as everyone knows, the very next thing they would do is head straight to the local Anglican/Episcopalian church and become valued members of the congregation. Thereby further reducing the voting power of congregants prepared to discriminate against potential Bishops and Parish Appointments purely on the grounds of the candidate’s God-given sexuality.

Can you see the implications of this, my Dearly Beloved Sinners? As Bishop Quinine pointed out, a massive influx of handsome Ugandans into our churches would naturally attract newcomers, particularly those seeking something just a little more funky than his own pasty visage. Liberal Western churches would flourish at the expense of Ugandan congregations perishing for want of musicians, choristers, and people capable of arranging the flowers in such a manner as to not invoke unpleasant memories of your great-aunt’s curtains.

No, Brother Richthofen and his friends were right: it was a conspiracy too evil for me to ignore. Not that achieving the eventual outcome was easy: a people raised in the Christian tradition of wanting to exterminate anyone not of their own ethic group aren’t easily shifted when it comes to persuading them to pass up an opportunity to whack someone so clearly different to themselves. And after all, who could be more different to a fundamentalist than someone who just wants to live and love as the person God made them to be?

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Did somebody cry "Wolf"?

Well, well, well – there are two new suffragan Bishops in Los Angeles, but since numbers have never been a strong suite for my genitally-challenged imitators at places like Viagraville, only the Rev. Canon Glasspool’s election has received any attention.

This is a pity, because it shows that my fellow Biblical Conservatives just aren’t getting worked up about women like they used to. Time was the mere thought of someone without a penis and hat at the front of the church was enough to have us all predicting the end of Christianity faster than Chicken Little could cry “The sky is falling”. Yet nowadays unless you’re somewhere like little Peter Jensen’s Sydney, nobody blinks an eyelid about clergy who don’t stand when they pee. Even the notion of them becoming Bishops is no longer enough to get anyone seriously worked up: sure in Britain the hard-core Anglo-Catholic groups comprising more fiddlers than the Boston Pops start screaming for “alternative” oversight, but everywhere else it takes more than girl-bits for a Prelate to be deemed unacceptable by those no longer members of our Church. Now those bits need to be in loving, monogamous, and mutually-supportive relationships with similarly shaped bits before we can all be worked up to start gibbering like monkeys.

Back in the days when children were encouraged to play “Cowboys and Injuns”, and simulating attempted genocide was considered healthy clean fun, nobody considered the idea of a Right Reverend woman possible. God-fearing Biblical Anglicans could enjoy decent family racism from the comfort of their own La-Z-Boy. Little did they suspect that they’d one day be too ashamed to admit what they once blithely watched on their 12” walnut cabinet RCA. And you’d better believe one of the actors in this little shocker didn’t mention it when he later scored a part playing a priest in Cheers. But times change. No matter how hard Clergy like me try to preserve society in a state of gullible-but-nasty immaturity, history proves our lack of success: when did your parish wardens last attend a lynching? Not a metaphoric one, but a real live (at the outset) Strange Fruit event? You’d better believe that if you’d asked that question in more than a few ACNA congregations seventy years ago you’d have got a very different answer to the one they’ll give you today.

Even nasty nose doctors in Colorado have to acknowledge times change: Dr. “Robroy” McLean’s medical forebears might have believed illness resulted from an imbalance in the four humours, but I'd like to hope his understanding of anesthesia has progressed beyond giving patients a shot of whisky and sharp blow to the side of their head. Or how many of those now furious about what’s happened in L.A. were once also bitterly opposed to desegregation?

From where I sit things all fell apart when Christian evangelists stopped carrying swords and purses. After that everything else just became a matter of relativism. Speaking of which; can anyone help little Kendall Harmon find his sandals and scrip?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Conservative Youth Ministry.

Advent is a wonderful time, particularly since I’ve always felt there’s something about the Christmas spirit that encourages creativity in our worship. Consequently I’ve utterly preoccupied with developing an exciting new liturgy for our Christmas Eve guest service, which will involve the congregation poking out each other’s ear wax with Eucharistically-blessed Q-tips

Meanwhile Bishop Quinine has become enthralled by the Furry Fandom, and after only a little persuasion (in which I don’t believe anyone was seriously harmed) he has members of the parish Young People’s Fellowship all making costumes. Personally I’m delighted to see their morally bankrupt western teenage values being replaced with something more wholesome – even if that something does seem to involve a lot sweaty yelping noises coming from an elderly Bishop in a Josie and the Pussycats suit.

Meanwhile I’d like to present a marvelous video featuring a group of obviously heterosexual young men, whose talent stands as living proof of how not every nation has followed our own tragic slide into degenerate liberalism. You’ve only got to watch this to see how wonderful life could be if our leaders would repent of their wickedness and return to the good old-fashioned family values still flourishing in foreign parts of the Communion. Like Korea or Virginia.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Tiger Woods: The Bible could have told him there'd be trouble

There’s no secret about the fact that I’ve never liked golf. Certainly those spiky shoes with the strangely arousing tassels are very nice, and I won’t deny I happen to have quite a collection which I very much enjoy wearing (particularly when visiting people with shag-pile carpets), but the game’s fundamental premise of publically placing things in little holes while in the company of Rotarians has always struck me as vaguely immoral.

Certainly 2 Samuel 23:21 makes it quite clear that the Lord intended clubs to be used for the purpose of striking Egyptians, not small white balls (although Jeremiah 51:19-21 does seem to suggest it’s acceptable to use them on other types of foreigners, as well as upon any drivers and their vehicles whom one should happen to find irritating - see verse 21). Consequently Bible-believing Christians should hardly be surprised to learn of all the trouble that Tiger Woods has found himself in: if someone’s going to disregard Scripture and misuse clubs made by firms with names like Titleist for purposes that God never intended clubs to be used they’ve only got themselves to blame when things turn nasty. After all, if people were meant to play golf God would have created Adam and tee, not Adam and Eve.

Of course what is most appalling about this whole sordid business is that since when have professional golfers had any right to impinge upon a territory once exclusively that of Conservative Clergyman and politicians? Their god-given vocation is to fly around the world winning tournaments and making squillions of dollars, and ours is to become embroiled in sex scandals. Their field produces famous sportsman like Jack Nicklaus, Paul Runyan and Arnold Palmer, while we have Jimmy Swaggart, Mark Sanford and Ken Calvert. They get holes in one, and we get one in holes – it’s the natural order of things. When did anyone give Mr. Woods the right to change it all? At this rate it's only a matter of time before he's imagining he's a Calvinist and blogging at Viagraville.

And now you’ll have to excuse me, My Dearly Beloved Sinners, because through my office window I can see someone parking in MY SPACE, and the Spirit’s calling me to find my five iron in a hurry…

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

There’s something fishy in Canada, and it’s not salmon.

I’ve always said that Conservative Leaders can learn a great deal from the great Numbers Game operators of my childhood, and while researching recent events in British Columbia it became clear I’m not the only one who feels that way. That’s because during the course of reading back through evidence from little David Short, the Sydney-bred and Jensen-trained show pony in charge of the schism and failed property theft at St John’s Shaughnessy, Vancouver, I’ve discovered enough number shuffling to do a Bernie Madoff prospectus proud.

The play starts back in May of this year, when little David told the court that his congregation’s membership had “totaled 2,000” in the late 90’s, before falling to 1,100 in 2007, and subsequently increasing to 1,500 in 2009. All of which are very different figures to that presented by the Anglican Network in Canada’s November2009 spreadsheet, which claims an attendance of 800.

Now if the last number is correct it means that between a quarter and a fifth of all Bobby Duncan’s Canadian cult members are in just one now property-less church, something which can’t help bring to mind an image of someone attempting to carry most of their eggs in a non-existent basket. If the earlier numbers are correct Bobby’s scenario is even worse – more than two-thirds of his flock might be homeless, which will make fleecing them in order to subsidize his predilections for litigation and travel extremely difficult.

Either way this all makes little David Short look about as trustworthy as the Archbishop of Sydney’s investment strategy. If 800 is the true number someone must have either been telling fibs in court (a practice Canadian law rather unsportingly calls ‘perjury’) or between May and November he’s managed to wipe out over 46% of his congregation – something that even the most godless apostate liberals can’t easily achieve. And at the rate of 700 people leaving every six months Short will by this time next year be the first Schismatic Conservative to boast of a negatively sized congregation.

Yet that isn’t all, since he also told the court that 98% of his congregation voted to leave the Anglican Church of Canada, and that about 200 people had quit St. John’s as a result of the controversy. So if only half of those leaving St. John’s had opposed schism the 2% translates into a figure of 100 votes against – which means a total voting congregation of 5,000. A figure not even David Short has been prepared to throw around while under oath. Either most of those not interested in joining ACNA didn’t vote, or the vote was rigged, or else they didn’t know what they were voting for, or changed their mind afterwards. Or someone’s told more lies. Whichever way it spins, the numbers smell worse than little Peter Jensen’s balance sheet.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Bobby Duncan loses a bit off the top.

Just as you’d expect from someone committed to liberal notions of impartiality and justice, a Canadian Supreme Court Judge spoiled every Bible-Believing Conservative’s Thanksgiving by ruling that property theft is wrong – even when the theft is motivated by a self-righteous calling to stop God’s ludicrous determination to show love and acceptance to everyone, including those a bit “Warden of Walsingham” in their inclinations.

This means that the Canadian franchise of little Bobby Duncan’s sect has indeed been struck a serious blow, since the Court held that four congregations in the Diocese of New Westminster are going to have to do what every new cult does when it comes to finding somewhere to meet – they’re going to have to beg, borrow, buy or hire a hall of their own, since stealing is an option that’s been categorically taken of the menu.

What makes things worse is that these congregations are a serious chunk of the Canadian schismatic population: numbers up north seem fishy even by Conservative standards (more on this in a few days), but doing the sums on the basis of an ANiC document dated November 11 shows the four comprise just over 40% of little Don Harvey’s sucker list. And they’re just the start: if this finding holds water a lot more Northern Schismatics will be scratching around for somewhere to meet before the winter’s over. Eucharistic snow caves anyone?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Since the Pilgrims weren’t Anglicans, and I’m not sure the Bible had even been written in 1621, there can be no denying that Thanksgiving is a fundamentally pagan occasion. Consequently I’ve long considered mounting a campaign calling upon Christians to boycott the day, and probably would have done so if the Jehovah’s Witnesses hadn’t got there first. After all, who wants to let a sect that believes there’s something sinful about eating steak tartare think they’ve beaten me when it comes to taking the sanctimonious high ground?

And in any case, there’s no denying that there’s something really wonderful about gathering over a meal with family and friends in order to give thanks for my wisdom, ministry, and incomparable life of service to the Church. What’s more, thanks to the miracle of the internet I know that all of you, My Dearly Beloved Sinners, are also gathering wherever you may be around the world to give thanks for all that you have learned here during the past year, and I’d like each and every one of you to know that I’m also thinking of you – or at least will be until I’ve eaten and drunk too much and indigestion sets in.

So as well as weeping tears of gratitude for the many ways in which the Lord and I have blessed you, please also spare a moment to give thanks for those of lesser importance in your lives, such as your partners, children, parents, friends, dogs, cats, gerbils (yes Viagravillains – I’m thinking of you too), neighbours, village idiot, and people who use leaf-blowers when you're trying to sleep – not to mention that uncle twice removed who really doesn’t need to adjust himself that often. And everyone else in your lives, because they’re all a part of what makes your world go around. Besides, wouldn’t it get lonely and boring without them?

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Chuck Colson Declaration.

When it comes to global climate change, I’m a skeptic. Just because the planet’s heating up doesn’t mean it’s warming. Besides, if God had wanted us to reduce our emissions he wouldn’t have made it so affordable to feed one’s Curate a diet of boiled cabbage and onions.

That’s why I’m so delighted to discover the distinguished history behind the name “Manhattan Declaration”. It turns out that prior to its liberation from the blogspot grasp of a few of my less Orthodox imitators it was a statement produced by a conference altruistically funded by tobacco and oil companies. That’s right, my Dearly Beloved Sinners: the people who correctly taught us that smoking can’t possibly harm a person’s health, and to ignore the fact that oversized SUVs kill more people very year than terrorists ever have, are now right behind the movement to convince the world that global warming is a fiction. So we all know there’s absolutely nothing to worry about…

Mind you, if the involvement of such esteemed corporate citizens as Exxon and W.D. & H.O. Wills isn’t enough to convince you then, how about this - the one and only Mr. Chuck Colson shares these noble companies’ disinterested skepticism! That’s right: the late President Nixon’s hatchet man is equally proud to stand up and be counted when it comes to putting profits before creation. Which is fascinating, because he’s also one of the primary movers behind the faux-Manhattan Declaration – the one purporting to use the name of my other blog in an effort to stop folks from knowing that God foolishly loves and accepts everyone irrespective of what sort of naughty bits they might happen to find exciting.

Now there's no denying that I’ve got a lot of respect for little Chuck Colson. Whereas some famous sinners such mistakenly see repentance as involving a turning away from their old lifestyles and values, he showed all that’s necessary is to find a new niche in the market. Were St. Paul blessed with Chuck’s chutzpah he could have converted and kept hanging out with his fellow shakers and movers in the Pharisees. Or if only John Newton had paid a little more attention to Mr. Colson’s extensive literary works he’d never have imprudently abandoned his flourishing career in the slave trade. By grace little Chuck Colson went from being a mouthpiece living off the public purse while promoting a morally bankrupt ideology to a mouthpiece living off donations while promoting a morally bankrupt ideology. What a miracle!

And then there’s his masterstroke: while claiming to minister to prisoners (and actively soliciting for money to fund this apparently laudable aim) he simultaneously and unashamedly supports social strategies which have been proven to exacerbate crime and increase the prison population - thereby increasing the apparent need for his services!!! Honestly the man’s a genius. But that he’s then able to get away with claiming two people who want to commit to each other in marriage represent one of the greatest threats society has ever faced just proves Henry Louis Mencken’s famous aphorism.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Roseann Allen-Matthews

I’ve completely broken character here only once before, so you’ll all have to please excuse me if this sounds awkward. But Roseann has died, and right now I’m just not up to channeling the dreadful Reverend Dr. Troll.

Not many people know this, but I have another blog, an obscure and now neglected site at which I rediscovered a voice I’d thought lost. Roseann was one of the first people to comment there, and it was through the encouragement of her and people like her that I was able to keep writing.

Much later the idea of this place came upon me from nowhere (although the less attractive aspects of Fr. Christian’s personality are based almost entirely upon several men under whom I had the dubious experience of serving), and Roseann got the joke immediately. Sure, there were times when I think she may have felt things went too far (I sometimes worry things here go too far), but she had a way of steering it all back on track which only ever left me feeling more determined than ever to not just believe in peace, but to be peace – with all the crazy, anarchic, and infinitely loving madness that involves.

For me being a Christian involves admitting I don’t have all the answers; to cease pretending I can see with any more clarity than through the darkest of glasses. That’s where Roseann has left us all behind: on her side of the river she sees in a way we cannot even begin to imagine. Of one thing I am certain, that one day we shall all see each other as God sees us. And on that day Roseann shall be laughing in our midst.

Till then we can’t help but shed a tear, despite it probably being the last thing she’d want us to do. That’s life, and that’s the person Roseann is. When we finally meet again I’m sure she won’t hold it against any of us – I for one am going to have a ball laughing with her over all the things I wanted to post here but was too chicken. And she… she’s going to be Roseann. Which just one more reason why that day will be so wonderful.

The Manhattan Something-or-other.

The usual suspects are all buzzing with excitement (well the noise is either excitement or Peter Ould has finally worked up the courage to buy a “special” device on ebay) about The Manhattan Declaration, which is the latest definitive statement on what Conservative Christians must believe.

Superseding all previous definitive declarations of Biblical Christianity, including those found in the Gospels, this document sets out everything Conservatives from a whole range of traditions have in common, with the exception, of course, of one minor detail: deep down each of them believes the others heretical and thus damned in perpetuity. Not that a little thing like that need ever get in the way of the really important aspects of ministry, like hating people who simply want to live and love as God made them, or controlling women’s reproductive organs.

There is, however, one other thing which I must explain in response to the thousands of Sinners who’ve been distraught to see I’m not one of the declaration’s original signatories. My absence is purely as a result of slight misunderstanding: when Metropolitan Jonah asked me to join the gang I thought he was talking about The Manhattan Project (he does have quite a strong accent), and naturally hung up on him.

That’s because when I was a younger man I was quite heavily involved with Bobby Oppenheimer and the people behind the bomb, only falling out when they stopped me using our findings to develop a means of dealing with Baptists once and for all. It’s a little known fact that I’d previously helped Albert Einstein discover the special theory of relativity, although I held that E stood for Evangelism, which was directly related to M ( Money) multiplied by C for Christian Troll, and that business about being square was just Bert’s idea of a joke he then took much too far. So naturally I wasn’t interested in going down that path again, and anyway, since the end of the Cold War there’s nobody to whom I could sell our research secrets.

Now everything’s been explained properly by someone who's only canonically foreign I’m 100% behind this innovative new repetition of the last innovation in hating people like folks did in the good old days. To show my support I’ve even accepted responsibility for promoting things in the blogosphere, and I’m sure little Martyn Minns and all the other schismatics involved will be delighted to learn I’ve already got the ball rolling at http://manhattandeclaration.blogspot.com.

After all, they’ve been so enthusiastic about using my acronym “GAFCON” there’s no doubt they’ll be just as proud to see what the future holds for The Manhattan Declaration. Goodness knows it’s got to be less turgid than their self-righteous tome.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

The Very Rev. James M. Jensen

“And what will we find? We'll find that any questions and doubts will fade away, as we meet God face to face. Which is simply to say that when things fall apart and time runs out, God's love remains and God's eternity breaks in. The word to us is wake up and live; watch and pray! Jesus Christ is truly the Living End -- the One in whom there is a new Heaven and a new Earth, a City of God, where we will at last be home, safe and sound, forever."

Fr. Jim

Let our thoughts, prayers, and love be with Klady and all who today are mourning. Together we weep, but only for a time; for we have been well taught that one day even grief shall be no more.

Arise, Dirty George Conger.

Well it took little George Conger less than 24 hours to crumble before the tide of liberal pressure brought on by his courageous move to illustrate the truth concerning lesbianism as every creepy old man, every sweaty-palmed post-adolescent fundamentalist, and every GAFCON-believing homophobe knows it to be. Or at least likes to imagine it to be in those special moments they pray very hard to be delivered from, and even harder that nobody will ever find out about.

That’s right, the hot ‘n’ sweaty picture he posted yesterday at Religious Intelligence has already been replaced by an image of a rainbow flag flying strong in the breeze, which Brother Richthofen and his friends from seminary say is more symbolic than folks at the incongruently named Religious Intelligence will ever understand.

Still, Canon Conger (say that out aloud: does it sound more like a 1940’s dance or a 1960’s brand of cheap bubble-gum?) should rest assured that his innovative masterpiece has been preserved, both as the jpeg here yesterday, and in entirety as a high resolution pdf stored under high-security on the St. Onuphrius’ servers. So there’s absolutely no need for concern that anyone might forget the original; rest assured my dear pseudo-journalist (I know you visit here from time to time, so there’s no need to be shy), we’ll keep the memory of your work alive.

What’s more, to mark this significant new milestone in Conservative Blogging I’ve decided, by the powers vested in me as the self-appointed arbiter of all that is Doctrinally Sound, to bestow upon Canon Conger a new honorific. This shall henceforth be used by all Dearly Beloved Sinners whenever referring to our favorite Orthodox Pornographer, who is to be afforded all the respect a man of his acumen deserves. Truly, truly I say unto you all: no longer shall he be “little” – from this day on the man will be known as Dirty George Conger.

I’m Father Christian, and I teach the Bible.

George Conger's Gift to Masturbaters.

Thanks to little George Conger and his publicists at “Religious Intelligence” Christians all around the world with Covenant Eyes installed on their computers are enthusiastically whacking away. Students at fine institutions like Patrick Henry College and Sydney’s Moore Theological College won’t be coming out of their rooms for days, and “Accountability Partners” will all be mystified as to why their charges have spent hours studying what appears to be a straightforward story about a judicial bureaucrat ruling children are better off being raised in cold and heartless institutions than in warm and loving family homes overseen by caring couples who happen to have similarly shaped smelly bits.

Little will the “Accountability Partners” realize George’s article has been thoughtfully illustrated with the kind of picture that heterosexual-but-dysfunctional Bible-believing men all know accurately depicts the depravity into which young women immediately plummet if left unattended after being in any way exposed to the lesbian lifestyle and/or its practitioners. You can see the original for yourselves here, but you'd better click quickly, since I doubt the Religious Intelligence will be able to cope with the increased bandwidth. Consequently I have for posterity's sake reproduced the relevant portion of Rev. Conger’s article:


After all, I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before some apostate liberal tries to suppress this article (which I swear I have not photoshopped!) on account of it revealing the truth about what happens when instead of marrying off their daughters to much older and wiser Biblical Christians, who then compel their legitimately purchased young brides to produce hordes of home-schooled progeny, parents permit girls to receive an education.

Mark my words: when you start with little things, like teaching a young woman to read, it’s only a matter of time before she’ll doubt the veracity of such Biblical truths as the fact that all the world’s linguistic differences resulted from God getting annoyed by few hubristic Babylonian property developers (Nobody likes having their view built out). Then the next thing you know she and her friends are leaning against pastel-colored walls in micro-skirts and feeling each other’s breast implants. Or at least that’s what most of George Conger’s followers hope will happen.

This all raises some serious questions. Like where did George steal this picture from, and is it part of a series? Can he give his assurance he was only viewing that site for research purposes? Or the most important question of all: what sort of Google traffic was he hoping to attract with the headline “Court blow for homosexuals”? And how can Bishop Quinine be prevented from taking this literally next time he’s ordered to make an appearance?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Have I told you lately that I love you?

As everyone knows, ANiC is an rare Inuit dialect word meaning “unpatriotic cowards to afraid to start a schism of their own”, and northern members of little Bobby Duncan’s new sect have just concluded their 2009 synod.

Naturally Faux-Cardinal Don Harvey begged me to attend and present an inspirational message of Doctrinal Orthodoxy to the cheerful throng, but unfortunately the event coincided with the three days I had to stay home and wash my hair. After much prayerful consideration, and a vision from the Holy Spirit involving Mounties, lumberjacks, and a hot tub full of hockey jocks, Brother Richthofen and his friends from seminary felt called to go on my behalf.

Here’s a photo they took of a particularly sensitive moment between Canada’s most important Christian and his United States suzerain: as soon as the boys stop making whoo-hoo noises I expect they’ll have more to report…

Anglican Mainstream get Biblical.

A little Anglican Mainstream scriptural exposition:

“But we clearly do not have an account of Jesus going to places specially designated as formal places of obvious sin.”

Bill Muehlenberg, Anglican Mainstream

Which is absolutely correct. Everyone knows Levi the Tax Collector’s house was really the local headquarters of the Galilean Christians for Public Decency League. That's why the Pharisees were so pleased to see Jesus inside, and how they immediately recognized him as one of their own.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Earth calling David Virtue... Come in Mr. Virtue...

Some unkind commentators have used words like “failed property thief” to describe little Don Armstrong. Elsewhere he’s known as Colorado Spring’s most multi-faced progeny since Lon Chaney, while to others he’s simply “the defendant” or “the accused”. However on little David Virtue’s planet Don Armstrong enjoys a rather more salubrious reputation: there he’s “a faithful godly, gospel-preaching pastor”.

Since he was capable of saying that with a straight face I suppose I really shouldn’t have been startled to see Virtue publish the following, but I was...

“I can't imagine his (Bishop Robert O’Neill, Dio. of Colorado) use of trust funds meant for ministry isn't a legal problem itself.”

Donald Armstrong – alleged trust funder user extraordinaire

Who do you all think more epitomizes the spirit of GAFCON – Virtue for posting this, or Armstrong for saying it? And what's the point of trying to make humorous stuff up when folks are coming out with material like this for real?

I’m Father Christian, and not even I can believe these guys…

A bold witness to lift our faith..

I must confess, Dearly Beloved Sinners, that the news of Obama’s health reforms being passed by the House has hurt me deeply. Sure there’s still the very real hope of things not getting through the Senate, but it’s the principle of universal health care that troubles me so. It’s the idea of the great and proud nation that was once America becoming a place where less affluent citizens are not made to suffer needlessly as a result of their inability to afford the kind of health care people in most other countries take for granted which keeps causing my righteous old eyes to brim with tears.

Don’t people realise how important it is to preserve god-given barbaric inequalities? Don’t they even care about the compassionate medical insurance companies’ right to squeeze huge profits out of others’ suffering – albeit with the help of hefty tax subsidies? Don’t they see that making people incapable of paying a decent tithe endure sub-standard treatment and needless agony needs to be at the heart of a Christian nation’s values?

At times of grief such as these I often find comfort in meditating upon the inspirational words and actions of other Bible Believers, and in this instance my mind has been cast back to last May, when, like me, a sweet and honest beauty queen dared to bear witness before a false and deceitful world.

That’s right, who better to contemplate when it seems like there is no truth left in the world than Carrie Prejean; and there’s no shortage of fine Conservative bloggers who help brighten the darkness by recalling her example. Take “PastorBlaster” at ”I Smiteth Thee With the Holy Rock of Truth” (how could I ever have overlooked a blog name that catchy in favor of “GAFCON”???), who reminds us of the “fine outstanding young person who willingly stood tall in a situation where she knew she would be vilified by a liberal media”, who “grew up in an evangelical Christian home in Vista, California and is currently a senior at San Diego Christian College, a small, evangelical liberal arts college located in El Cajon, California”, and who “attends The Rock Church, where she volunteers with their outreach ministries such as Luv-em-Up Ministries in El Cajon, where she volunteers with members with developmental disabilities.”

Or the wonderful show of strength from the gang at Jesus is Lord: A Worshipping Christian’s Blog (another great name!) who so clearly spoke in the Spirit when they said “After the initial fire is past, she will be hugely rewarded by our almighty God! I have a feeling she will be a huge spokesperson in the name of Jesus! Hallelujah!!” – a prophesy confirmed by Christian Girl Advice WeUsed2BU (I swear I’m not making any of these up), who quite correctly say “Carrie and her testimony are like the kingdom she represents—a priceless pearl.”

Honestly, nothing lifts a saddened spirit as thoroughly as being reminded of this woman’s sincere faith. There’s certainly no doubt regarding how blessed the developmentally delayed clients of Luv-em-up Ministries are, and just thinking about her example should make us all feel almost as blessed ourselves. But now you’ll have to excuse me: Bishop Quinine is calling me to go over to his desk and see some pictures and a video he’s just downloaded...

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

A people in rebellion against God.

Christians, even those of us who are infallible Doctrinal Warriors, must always remain open to the possibility of God leading us in new directions, and calling us to face new challenges. Growing in Christian maturity never ceases to bring he possibility of new insights and deeper understanding into the mysteries of our faith.

Which is why I’m not ashamed to admit, my Dearly Beloved Sinners, that I’ve recently been brought by the Spirit to a new conviction concerning a group of people I’ve always considered the Bible as condemning on account of their perverse lifestyle.

These are people who, despite the manifest sinfulness of their chosen way of living, persist in maintaining they “were born that way” - irrespective of the fact that plain common sense, not to mention the entire canon of church tradition (in so far as it refers to such people at all) makes it clear that that they have in fact surrendered themselves willingly to defilement, choosing to become an abomination in the sight of God's self-appointed spokesmen.

Yet without seeking to mitigate their shame and wickedness, I have now seen that just as Rahab proved herself faithful despite being a filthy evil-encrusted denizen of Jericho, there are also - purely by God’s grace – men and women among this group whom I once believed damned perverts who are – I know you’ll find this challenging to hear - actually Christians!

By now I’ve no doubt even the most Biblically Illiterate Episcopalians among you will have realized that the people of whom I have been talking are Ugandans. After all, Natural Order (thanks Bishop Lawrence) proves them utterly steeped in sin. What’s more it’s an indisputable Biblical fact that the Scriptures never so much as once mention Ugandans in a positive light. Nor did Jesus, or God’s son, the Apostle Paul, ever suggest the possibility of someone being both Christian and Ugandan. Besides, if God had wanted people to be Ugandan he would have created Adam and Orombi, not Adam and Eve.

Because St. Onuphrius’ is a caring congregation with a profound sense of mission we have over the years done much to minister to sinners ensared by the Ugandan lifestyle. To those who might claim being Ugandan is a matter of birth and development, or genetics, I would simply draw attention to the men and women who’ve come through our program and whom have now put the shame of their time in the Ugandan deception behind them. Some, for example, now by God’s grace describe themselves as Norwegian, or Latvian, and I personally know of at least one ex-Ugandan now living happily as an Esquimaux.

Which is not to say they don’t still face difficulties. The repentant Norwegians have yet to obtain passports, and since moving to Florida the Esquimaux has experienced terrible difficulties keeping his igloo from melting. Yet challenges like these are part of what it means to be a Christian, or at least they are for those whom GAFCON leaders like myself have successfully burdened with a hefty layer of extra-Biblical guilt. Sure, we’ve witnessed setbacks and failures in those to whom we minister (to be perfectly honest not a single Ugandan has ever experienced lasting reorientation), which is why we prefer not to submit our program to independent evaluation, but against this must considered the fact that we’ve been able to wring a fortune in donations from people who through issues of their own want to support the ministry.

Yet, like St. Peter learning it’s ok to enjoy a little sweet-and-sour pork with gentiles, the Lord recently convicted me to acknowledge what I once believed impossible: a Ugandan blessed with the Spirit and perception of Our Lord. Read his words for yourself and I’ve no doubt that you’ll understand this change in my position. Hopefully it will inspire you to reconsider your own attitude towards those whom you were once certain Scripture declared entirely beyond the reach of salvation. You might even – as I have been called to do – find it in your heart to remember this man and other Ugandans like him in your prayers. Lord knows they need all the help they can get.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

My Old Testament Guest List

Bible Gateway recently invited people to name the 20 Old Testament figures they'd most like to invite around for a dinner party. Since the site appears to be run by notorious liberals it's hardly surprising my list was ignored, so out of the pastoral concern I'm sharing it with everyone here:

1) Abraham: I love a barbecue, and he can always be relied upon to bring at least some sort of meat.

2) Balaam’s Ass: a talking donkey is even more impressive than hiring a jumping castle.

3) Elijah: when he’s around there’s never any problem getting the barbecue alight.

4) Goliath: just in case the young folk start texting each other that there’s a party on at Father Christian’s it’s always prudent to have a bouncer at the door. Besides, it’s not as if he’ll fall a second time for the stone-in-a-slingshot routine.

5) Lot’s Wife: nothing keeps a Doctrinal Warrior’s blood pressure thumpingly high like a little salt on his steak. If only she had a relative who was turned into ketchup…

6) Elisha: how can you not like a man who really knew how to handle teenagers?

7) Bathsheba: I’ve always had a thing about women bathing in public.

8 - 9) David & Jonathan: goodness knows the boys didn’t get invited out as a couple very often, and it’s the least I can do to show them both a little respect.

10) Samson: we’ve got some heavy furniture that needs moving and his help would come in handy.

11) Noah: he and Bishop Quinine have a lot in common.

12 - 15) Rahab, Gomer, Oholah, and her sister Oholibah: it’s my party, and they’re in the Bible. Ok? Besides, my interest in meeting them all is purely academic.

16-18) Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego: just in case the fire gets out of hand.

19) Joshua: perhaps he could be persuaded to march around the Baptist church up the road until it crumbles like the walls of Jericho.

20) Jacob: I’ve never been too sure about what he actually put in his mess of potage, but it’s always sounded like it’d make a great end to a big night, and it's more Scriptural than pizza, kebabs or curry.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Reformation Sunday

Of all the special days on the Church’s calendar, Reformation Sunday is my favorite. That’s not just because you aren’t expected to buy other people presents or chocolate, but also because it’s when we remember those men of the 16th century who by their faithfulness won for us the right to hate Roman Catholics in perpetuity.

Indeed, were it not for men like Luther, Cranmer, Knox and Calvin, whose lives were in every way unblemished by sin, as well as other less important foreigners, sectarianism wouldn’t be half as much fun as it is today; the only people upon whom Biblical Christians could legitimately vent their feelings of insecurity would be Knights Templar. And we all know how rarely one of them is handy when you’re irritated.

Nor is popular hatred of Romans the Reformers’ only legacy: by placing theology in the hands of villagers with pitchforks the great witch persecutions of the 17th century were made possible, and by ending the Roman monopoly on abusive religion the foundations were laid for such greats as Joel Osteen and Oral Roberts, or that Canadian fellow whose specialty was kicking people in the head – and no, I don’t mean little David Short.

What’s more, the great Reformers provide the perfect role model for today’s young people. Take Knox, for example, who at the age of 50 married a 17 year old girl. Or Luther, a man so tolerant that his lesser known writings uncannily prefigure those of a later German nationalist. While in denouncing Servetus to the French Inquisition, Calvin established the glorious GAFCON principle of siding with those whom we hate in order to get rid of those we hate even more.

The greatest lesson of all however, that we gain from studying our Reformed predecessors is that valid theological development ceased after 1600. Unless you happen to be one of my Forward in Faith friends, in which case there was also a little window opened in the mid 19th century – a view with which Cranmer mightn’t have agreed, but then again he didn’t desperately need their money to keep Bobby Duncan in the lifestyle to which he feels entitled.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Trick or Trick: Sydney's Halloween Greeting.

“I would suggest that Anglo-Catholicism as we know it today is a later development within Anglican history. It is not part of the original Elizabethan settlement and in its current form involves a repudiation of many of the things which I would argue are at the heart of authentic Anglicanism.”

Rev. Mark “Duck” Thompson
Anglican Church League Grand-Poobah-at-Large
Diocese of Sydney, Australia

Just moments after finding this marvelous quote in the comments here, the following picture of one of Dobby’s fellow house-elves mysteriously arrived:


While his identity is unknown, the warm, happy, and welcoming expression immediately identifies him as a Sydney Evangelical clergyman eager to share Calvinist Joy with his international inferiors.

Astute Sinners will also notice he’s wearing Jensen-approved Halloween rags: despite the recent façade of support for ACNA the reality is Mordor has no respect for Anglicans whose heritage extends beyond English Puritanism. Hence for Anglo-Catholics and other “Sub-Christians” there are no treats, just tricks and more tricks. And before Dobby or his fellow Jensen family slaves impudently dare to deny this, take a look at the comments on a later post at Ducky’s blog for an idea of what those courtiers closest to the Jensen throne really feel about Bobby Duncan’s sect:

“You may well be right about the current American situation. I don't really know enough to give a definite opinion - just enough to have my doubts that evangelical Anglicans will have a continuing home in the new arrangement.”

Yep folks; that’s the head of Sydney’s Anglican Church League again. The same gang for whom the Viagravillains are giving thanks and praising God. With friends like that who needs the Vatican?

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Perversion for Profit.

I've been showing this important documentary to young people since it was first produced in 1965 by the Citizens for Decent Literature Inc. (headed up by the Concerned Christian, Morals Campaigner, and Convict (4 1/2 years - fraud, racketeering and conspiracy) Charles Keating), and it's high time all of you, my Dearly Beloved Sinners, were also enlightened by the truly impressive collection displayed here for purely educational purposes. Stay tuned to the end and no matter what your tastes you'll find George Putnam has a magazine for you.

Watch also for the subtly antisemitic depiction of a pornographer at 2:45. When you're offending people it's a vital GAFCON principle to ensure no minority is overlooked.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Dobby squawks for his supper.

Observant Sinners will have noticed Dobby Ould indulging in a little trans-gender commenting on a truly disgraceful blog, but I’m relieved to say he’s recovered his original identity, and is once again posting in his own name on such balanced and insightful sites as Viagraville, where he’s been talking up his master’s recent expression of support for little Bobby Duncan’s sect.

Of course what he isn’t mentioning is that given Lord Volderjensen’s unfortunate gambling habit there isn’t any money left to keep paying cheeky little house-elves like Dobby, so he’s currently trying for all he’s worth to find someone silly enough to keep putting a roof over his endearing-but-creepy little head. Consequently we can all expect to see a lot more impressively slimy pieces from Dobby around the traps as the boy tries to raise his chances of grabbing a nice schismatic piece of stolen real estate in ACNA should his golden future in Jensenland turn out to be really made of lead.

To help increase the chances of this happening Dobby’s rags are now sporting a subtle new message guaranteed to invoke sympathy in his American friends: if this doesn’t work his only hope will be that some generous Nigerian soul finds it in their homophobic heart heart to send food parcels...



I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

+Mark Lawrence gets logical.

Try as I might I still haven’t been able to get the problem of little Bishop Lawrence’s address out of my head: what exactly is the man going to do that he hasn’t already done? Permit any congregation wishing to leave for ACNA to take parish assets with them? In which case do you think he’ll let me also steal something: I’m not sure his car is suitably macho for a man of my stature, but I have heard his wife is a very good cook, and as long as his computer isn’t running Vista it’s now mine, y’all understand?

Mind you, I think I may have found some idea of what’s behind the process which might for brevity’s sake be referred to as his “thinking” – on page 7 of the address little +Mark claims homophobia is something “even the Natural Order reveals”. As Biblical Christians everywhere should know “Natural Order” (+Mark quite correctly capitalizes this proper noun) is something (someone?) to which Jesus repeatedly referred, and which he saw as even more influential than His Father, whom He depicts as a fairly minor figure by comparison.

Nor am I so spiritually tactless to mention how important appeals to “Natural Order” were in the promulgation of anti-miscegenation laws, or their part in the argument against letting those not of Martyn Minn’s ethnic persuasion be anything other than cleaners in the Nigerian Anglican Church. In fact I’ve a long history of supporting the notion of “Natural Order”: a few years ago I discovered that the Dani people of the Baliem Valley in Western New Guinea believe “Natural Order” dictates all men over the age of puberty should go about their daily business clad in nothing more than a penis-gourd, and as a result did everything within my power to see this clearly natural practice introduced to Ichabod Springs.

Sadly we had to abandon the practice once winter came; the cold resulted in things becoming humiliating for even a man of my estimable Doctrinal Dimensions. Still, there’s no denying the logical consistency of my stance, and given the climate of South Carolina is a little more temperate than that of Ichabod Springs I’m certainly hoping to see the dear Bishop and his followers abandoning synthetic fabrics in favor of honestly grown natural sheaths from the Lagenaria siceraria plant (although many of my Conservative brethren may find the smaller Nepenthes mirabilis a more comfortable fit).

Additionally we can all expect them to boycott dentists, to forgo the use of anesthetics in surgical procedures, and to rejoice in a world where even the most minor of infections can frequently prove fatal. What could be less part of the “Natural Order” than modern medicine? The Church Fathers certainly never contemplated circumventing an honest dose of gangrene with some contemporary piece of pharmacological tomfoolery: you’d better believe they could recognize the “Natural Order” when they saw it oozing out of somebody’s leg.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Bishop Mark Lawrence announces Nothing.

Can somebody out there please explain exactly what Bishop Mark Lawrence means by announcing that he and his Diocese of South Carolina will “begin withdrawing” from the Episcopal Church into which he was ordained, and by whom he was consecrated Bishop and given the pointy hat of which he’s clearly very proud?

I’ve read and re-read his convention address, but still can’t find much more in it than a collection of rather meandering anecdotes. While there’s no denying these prove he’s reasonably entertaining for a Bishop (it’s not as if the standard's very high), and the story he attributes to an anonymous Nun involving an angel kissing newborn infants on different parts of their anatomy certainly helps explain my childhood nickname of “Tripod”, none of these shed any light upon what +Lawrence intends to do other than to keep whining about God's love for people irrespective of their sexuality.

Nor does anyone here at St. Onuphrius’ have any idea. Consuella thinks the whole thing is just a ploy to stop little Rev. Steve “My dirty pants don’t stink” Wood (ever thought that maybe the only reason people didn’t complain about your stench was that good-old southern courtesy kept them from saying anything, hey Fr. Steve?) and his congregation from running off, although it does seem an awful lot of effort to go to in order to hang on to just one parish. After all, it’s not as if the hotel chambermaids are going to miss changing Rev. Wood’s sheets if he’s no longer a delegate to General Convention.

Evangelical Eric, on the other hand, thinks “this will be sending a tremendous message”, although like the conservative sites from which he’s stolen this cliché, he’s got no idea what that message is. Then again he’s still just miffed because I sold the pain-relievers he was prescribed after surgeons reattached his foot. While filling the parish Hummer I’d got talking to a couple of long-haul truckers who were having trouble sleeping at the end of a run, and dealing a little pastoral assistance was the least I could do; my foolish Curate still can’t get it into his head that being in ministry means not always putting oneself first: I'm beginning to fear he may be in some way related to the Ould family.

Meanwhile Bishop Quinine thinks the whole address was allegorical, and has found more hidden meanings than Dan Brown at a Shriner’s meeting. Personally I’ve got no problems accepting his theory when it comes to +Lawrence’s bit about squirrels running through hollow branches (read the address if you don’t know what I’m talking about) being a covert reference to something distinctly unhealthy involving gerbils, although what Bishop Quinine reads into the paragraph about some woman moving into a bedroom down the hall is too much for even Kendall Harmon to contemplate. Although I dare say David Virtue would be more than interested in buying the film rights.

Personally I think the most likely explanation is that +Lawrence is just trying to follow my example of sitting on the fence and playing everyone off against each other. It’s highly probable that he and Mrs. Lawrence like nothing more at the end of the day than to snuggle up to each other in bed and in the quiet of the evening meditate together upon my Sound Bible Teaching; and doubtless this is where His Grace discovered his new strategy of pretending to not really be part of the apostate liberal church hierarchy while still continuing to enjoy the perks and kudos associated with being a real Prelate, as opposed to just being one of countless pretend ones in a pretentious new sect operating out of Pittsburgh.

How long he’ll be able to keep fooling the ECUSA hierarchy in this way is another question. Playing off the ACNA crowd will be easy, since not only are none of them the brightest lanterns on the boardwalk (or else they wouldn’t have let little Bobby Duncan talk them into throwing away their vocations), but like any desperate huckster they’ll keep smiling and pretending to be friendly for as long as there’s even the faintest hope of making a sale. However the Presiding Bishop is made of smarter stuff, and if +Lawrence thinks he can keep her at bay for long by sticking his fingers in his ears and hiding with Teddy in the toy box he’s in for a very big surprise.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Modern Evangelicalism: the Vista of Church Operating Systems.

As faithful Sinners will recall my computer was recently destroyed as a result of a certain curate’s carelessness during our recent parish excursion; despite little Philip Ashey’s famous comment about “blowing things up” it’s obvious clergy today aren’t taught to take same care when handling explosives as they were in my day.

Fortunately Eric’s first compensation check has finally arrived from the Diocesean Insurance Scheme; we told them he was injured as a result of a freak thurible explosion, and since church officials everywhere are taking so much trouble to ensure there’s no doubt about parish property and infrastructure belonging to the diocese they had no choice but to accept liability. Consequently I’ve just used his money to purchase myself a magnificent new multi-media laptop as replacement for the one he ruined, parts of which were blown so high I believe they now can be officially classified as space junk.

Now I know the majority of my readers are Apple aficionados, and I’ll admit my original intention was to join you over there on the smug side of computing’s great divide. However Brother Richthofen and his friends from Seminary have spent a great deal of time pirating the software we use here at St. Onuphrius’, and abandoning all the dishonest fruits of their honest labor seemed churlish to say the least. Consequently I succumbed to the call of my unceasingly pastoral heart, and remained true to dear Bill Gate’s bloated and inaccessible (but easily hacked) vision.

Thus the World’s Greatest Doctrinal Warrior currently finds himself locked in a desperate battle with the astonishing monster known as Vista: I know I should have been more suspicious when the only good thing the salesman could say was that I’d qualify for a free copy of whatever it is that’s superseding the system I was buying, but having spent many years wrestling with Windows thought Vista couldn’t be that bad.

Dearly Beloved Sinners, it’s not often you’ll hear that I was mistaken, but on this dark instance it’s true that I most certainly was. Vista isn’t that bad – it’s worse. Much worse. If I’m told just one more time that “You don’t have permission to access that folder” when it’s something on my USB drive that I created and have used nearly every day for more than a year – and this after first responding to no less that four pop-up windows asking “Are you sure you wish to continue?” (No you hexadecimal pillock – what I’d really like to do is waste an entire day answering mindless questions from an operating system.)

Yet as I’ve been coming to grips with one of the stupidest inventions since uranium-powered cars (“Hi Hank – from up here in the traffic chopper things look pretty good on the roads this morning, with just one small freeway incident that’s reduced a third of the country to dust and looks like causing a nuclear winter which’ll to make things kind of overcast for the next twelve millennia.”) it’s occurred to me that Vista is actually exactly like today’s Evangelicalism.

Just like Vista, modern Evangelicals are a shallow pastiche of their heritage. Yesteryear’s Evangelicals may have campaigned for some rather foolish causes, such as an end to the employment of children as chimney sweeps, but they also struggled long and hard to build up parishes which at the time nobody wanted. They were once a movement which fought to proclaim Christ in the darkest of places, and which was fearless in breaking new ground; today their specialty is “upgrading” those who’ve already heard the Gospel elsewhere.

Indeed, the Evangelicals of old may have often been unwieldy, and at times quite comical, but there’s no denying that given the right circumstances, like earlier versions of Windows they did actually work. Whereas both their descendants demand a bloated infrastructure to do little more than tell everyone how much better they are than any of the alternatives. And both cases their maker’s documentation suggests they’re already redundant.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

An emergency call regarding a large balloon.

Hello, you’ve called 911. How may I help you?

Please…you’ve got to help! The balloon... it was tethered, but it ’s lifted off… and they’re all inside. Help!!

Ok Sir – can you tell me your name please?

I’m His Holiness the Most Venerable Primate of the Province of the Anglican Church of North America, His Grace the Ineffable Reverend Robert William Duncan, Defender of the Orthodox not Part of Some Previously Communist Foreign Place, International Scourge of Homosexualists, Pinup Boy of Smooth-Faced Schismatics in Binghamton, Global Inspiration and Savior of…

Uh-uh – you’re who?

The guy with the funny eyebrows who used to be Bishop of Pittsburgh.

Oh right – him. And how can we assist you?

I’d built a balloon... It was supposed to carry a whole bunch of Newman impersonators lacking his integrity, insight and intelligence away from Anglicanism, and into my sect. But it’s taken off too early… and I think they’re all onboard.

Right… I see… Where are they at present?

Somewhere lost in the clouds. Probably all headed for Rome!

Ummm.. Sir? They’re headed where?

I told you, ROME! It's full of hot air and it was supposed to carry them to me, but it’s taken off too early AND THEY’RE ALL INSIDE!!

Can you see this balloon at present Sir?

Little Jack Iker thinks he can. He’s sent a message warning them against making any “hasty decisions or quick resolutions” to land without considering the ramifications… but he’s no longer in a position that anyone takes seriously. Besides, as far as thhe Vatican’s concerned he’s just another layman. The Forward in Faith boys were going to bring them all here, but…

Excuse me Sir, but I’m having problems understanding this. Are you sure all these people are actually onboard this balloon? Emergency services have already been notified, Sir, but I need to check these people are not just all hiding in the basement, or…

…OF COURSE they’re not in the basement!!! Please!!!!! I’m from ACNA – not some pathetic reality show!!!

…or have you looked for them in the closet?

…CLICK…

…Sir? Are you there? ... Is anyone still on the line?...

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Hey ho, hey ho; It’s off to Rome we go.

Dearly Beloved Sinners will know that when it comes to realignment I’m happy to sign up with anyone willing to throw a few a few benefits in our direction. Dear me; for a time St. Onuphrius’ was even part of the Hare Krishnas until none of us could stand anymore of the gas all their crappy free curries were giving Evangelical Eric: I’d always thought potatoes and chilies originated in the Americas, so why Vishnu and his fellow multi-armed blue deities are so obsessed with their followers eating these in some moldy combination was something I was never able to ascertain.

Consequently it shouldn’t come as a surprise to I've already begun trying to find out what the Vatican is prepared to offer: news has just broken that they've become the latest group of schismatics to try their hand at grabbing a bit of Anglican property. Mind you, we did pinch most of our assets from them in the first place, and all they seem to be interested in trying to steal is clergy, so it’s not as if they’re after anything particularly valuable. In which case my Curate is bound to be of interest: hopefully he'll fetch at least a few bottles of Chianti and decent pasta.

Unlike the Roman-Romans, it appears the new Canterbury-Romans will be permitted to remain wedded in holy matrimony if they were so entwined prior to their ordination: although whether the ordination to which this refers is the one which Anglicans think valid but Roman’s deny, or the subsequent recognized by Rome but considered superfluous by Christians is something I’m not too clear on.

Then again, there’s a lot about this proposal I’m not too clear on, although there’s one thing of which I am certain: marriage (at least of the kind at which Benny Ratsfinger is prepared to let his boys don their man-lace and officiate) isn’t exactly a big concern with most of the chaps interested in swimming the Tiber. Which is fine with me, but may prove something of a shock to His Holiness a few years down the line. ++Rowan William’s plan to drop one of his largest groups of troublemakers in somebody else’s basket might help him fracture the strange ultra-Evangelical/über-Tractarian alliance that’s been keeping women down, but give them a little time and great many of those switching sides are going to find their closet is still a closet. Just because the new one was made in Rome won’t make it any the less constricting. In fact it might even be a whole lot worse...

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Perhaps air freshener would hide the stench?

There are some services, such as dentistry or embalming, when it’s always advisable to engage the services of a professional rather than attempting to fix the problem oneself. Other matters, such as, for example, explaining the loss of a paltry $160 million, can be handled without outside assistance – but only if you’ve either got a degree of expertise in the field, or you’re a cult leader dealing with a large number of really gullible disciples.

In little Archbishop Peter Jensen’s case it appears he’s not leaving anything to chance: not only is the GAFCON faux-primate attempting to generate his own oily cover up, but he’s also engaged a personal spin-doctor (no sense wasting what little money remains on anything trivial, like clergy stipends); an almost-famous journalist who formerly worked the graveyard shift on an all-news public broadcaster, and who in the course of this cutting-edge role on occasion communicated to as many as several dozen people, some of whome might even have been actually listening.

Now I’ll be honest about this: I prefer to not mention the Diocese of Mordor in any of my homilies more often than once a month. A most dear great-uncle of mine was on a number of occasions convicted of practicing proctology without a license, and referring to Jensenland more frequently than this gives the unpleasant feeling that I may be starting to follow in his footsteps. Yet in this instance little Peter’s potential Pullitzer prize winner (he also occasionally filled in on Sunday afternoons when rain cancelled the football) has set a new standard in gloss too bright to ignore: with the finesse of a flat-footed ballerina his weekly news summary segues his whitewash (“the effects of the GFC”) into a report that “one in three Australian families had faced some financial hardship in the first six months of this year” (not as big as the Sydney Diocese’s, they haven’t), after which (see point 3) he attacks American Lutherans in one of the most charming examples of the timeless GAFCON principle of ignoring any inconvenient planks in one’s own eye since Nigerian Christians cast the first stone at western “immorality” while torturing and murdering children accused of witchcraft. (Special thanks to the Beloved Sinner who sends me links like that one: nothing so effectively puts little Martyn Minns in perspective, and no doubt his canonical co-residents shall one day look truly resplendent attired in their specially selected millstones)

Yet the final word on all this doesn’t come from little Pete’s professional. Nor does it come from Noble Wolf or Alcibiades Caliban, two Beloved Sinners daring to defend Anglicanism from within the heart of Jensen’s Heretical Stronghold. No, the truly definitive comment – the one which with breathtaking naivety most effectively sums everything up - must surely be this:

“There has been from the diocesan hierarchy disclosure, honesty, soul-searching and taking of responsibility. I know this first hand and from reading what has been written.”

It’s written by little Pete’s son and heir apparent, who quite naturally doesn’t have to worry in the slightest about whether or not he’s going to have a job next year. You can find it in the comments of an hilariously censored thread here. And after all, if little Jensen Jnr. says he’s seen “disclosure, honesty, soul-searching and taking of responsibility” the matter should be settled then. Claiming he’s not capable of making an objective evaluation is a ludicrous as claiming Kim Jong-il can’t be trusted when he says he routinely hits three or four holes-in-one every time he plays.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Archbishop Jensen didn't lose $100 million after all!

From the moment I first heard allegations that little Archbishop Peter Jensen and his band of merry relatives had managed to squander a mere $100 million I knew there was more to the story than everyone was letting on. After all, these are the creative geniuses who claim lay presidency is an expression of historical Anglicanism, and who accuse the rest of the church of heterodoxy while themselves embracing a doctrine of the Trinity which would have warmed the very cockles of old Arius’ heart.

Consequently when I saw the Jensen family house-elf Dobby Ould starting a new puff-piece at Viagraville about how the Sydney ‘Anglican’ diocese isn’t really like the Third Reich (of course it isn’t – Hitler never gave all the top jobs to his close relatives!) and that the Jensenistas actually have a very positive view of women’s ministry (providing, of course, that this ministry is unpaid and involves producing plenty of babies in a life of utter servitude), I knew something was afoot.

A few days later, when Lord Volderjensen permitted Dobby to make another post regarding the liberatingingly inferior position bestowed upon women in the Diocese of Mordor, despite the house-elf’s first effort having been torn to shreds by the more liberal Viagravillains (i.e. any who believe it acceptable for female children to learn how to read), it became clear +Sydney is serious about distracting folks away from more interesting matters. Sure enough, thanks to a truly disgraceful Beloved Sinner currently trapped in the land that theology forgot, I’ve discovered why: Little Peter Jensen never lost $100 million after all!!!!.

That’s right: the whole thing was just a disgraceful falsehood designed to besmirch our favorite pseudo-primate: Archbishop Jensen and the Sydney Anglican Diocese actually lost $160 million!!!! - a full 55.4 million greenbacks more than all the apostate liberal doubting-Thomases originally thought him capable of irresponsibly wasting. Forget the paltry figures earlier bandied around: the real figures in in the local media shows how well Anglicanism’s funniest fundamentalists run their own affairs – never mind everyone else’s.

The best quote of the whole affair, however comes from dear little Bishop Falstaff: the man who would have won the race to wear the Sydney Archbishop’s business suit if only his closest friends hadn’t spilled the beans when it came to the pre-election character analysis (my contacts among the Beloved Sinners of Sydney tell me everything!). This fine Calvinist hate-monger by day and bon vivant slumlord by night (who must never be allowed out on the town with Bishop Quinine), can always be relied to bring a smile (or at very least a grimace) to everyone’s face, and on this occasion he summed things up wonderfully:

''We can't work harder but we have to work wiser, more disciplined and more prayerfully.''

Coming from someone whose idea of “hard work” involves attending a wine-tasting I can’t imagine what he's threatening by announcing life in Jensenland is going to be “more disciplined”, but you’d better believe Dobby and the other house-elfs are worried it’s going to leave scars.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.