As the noble feline Mehitabel reported in the comments of my previous homily, the wicked apostate Diocese of Central New York appears to have sold the buildings formerly known as the “Kennedy Shrine to Orthodoxy” (aka “The Church of the Good Shepherd”) to a group of Homophobic Literalists.
This is, of course, a shocking move, particularly given how much it has just cost the diocese in legal fees to evict another group of Homophobic Literalists. Granted, this new group wanted to pay for the premises, which must have struck the diocesan leadership as an astonishing novelty, and, it’s not as if the premises will be used for any liberal purposes. As my Conservative Brethren always say after failing in an attempt to steal property, “it’s people, not buildings that matter”. Following which they devote the best part of their miserable little lives complaining about the dreadful injustice of something that doesn’t matter.
Still, there’s no denying the pain which little Matt and Hostillium must be currently feeling. Knowing that the rooms in which they once home-schooled and thrashed (not necessarily in that order) their little ones into righteousness are now being used for the purpose of eating foreign food and speaking a language with alarmingly guttural consonants must indeed be a terrible burden. Sure countless other people in the past few years have had their family homes seized and sold out from under them - homes which they’d thought they’d owned until the lending institutions proved otherwise – but their loss is paltry by comparison, particularly since it only occurred as a result of general economic blessings brought about by god-fearing Republican fiscal policies.
The Kennedy’s, on the other hand, lost the home in which they lived because of their own actions – making them vastly more deserving of our sympathy. And attention, prayers, support, tears, wringing of hands, and endless navel-gazing commiseration. Does anyone realise the pain they’ve endured through all this? Or how much more important it is that we feel sorry for them than for some unemployed factory-worker in the Rust Belt who can’t afford to pay for his wife’s cancer treatment, let alone keep the house in which his kids played …
No, when I read the words little Matt posted on Facebook the enormity of his suffering becomes indescribably real: “ today I passed by and saw that the doors were painted green”. Dearly Beloved Sinners, how can anyone not read those words and weep? Green, I tell you, green!!! Is there no end to the misery these people must be made to endure?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.