Beloved Sinners everywhere have undoubtedly been wondering when my new curate is finally due to arrive. The truth is that his Lord and Master, Archbishop Volder-Jensen, has needed the foolish boy’s services for longer than anticipated. First Dobby was needed to serve as spinmeister for his country’s national synod - a challenging role given that most other attendees wisely decided that attempting dialogue with the Jensenites is as productive as attempting to discuss the mathematics of unified field theory with the crazy panhandler down on the corner near the drugstore.
In addition to telling lies about his cult’s popularity with Australian Anglicans not terrified of girl/homo cooties, Dobby - whom has now been a Deacon for almost three years’ and consequently knows everything about ministry, theology, and Anglicanism - also had the important task of teaching Clergy with more than tenfold his experience about their ignorance and failure to grasp the essence of Anglicanism. Which, of course, involves lay presidency and believing everything a member of the Jensen family says.
This completed just one final task remains before my Dobby is bound for Ichabod Springs, but I fear it’s one of positively Herculean proportions: with Mordor now enjoying its own diocesan synod the truth-challenged lad has to convince the rest of the world that his master’s master-plan is succeeding.
At the time of my writing this he’s managed to get a whole three people to comment on his strategically edited version of the GAFCON faux-primate’s address - one of whom is himself – so he hasn't yet quite managed to convince the world that the future of Anglicanism involves men with dubious investment skills in polyester business suits showing power-point presentations explaining why the Trinity is proof women must be seen and not heard. Still, give Dobby time: people laughed when they first heard that Kim Jong-il is the best golfer in the world...
Sure wicked Australian journalists are publishing articles in which little Pete admits things are in an even bigger mess than we'd already suspected, but thankfully those of us in the rest of world who have the honor of being told we’re “sub-christian” by the Jensenistas can keep hearing how wonderfully the Family at the heart of the Global Schism’s Reformed Puritan Division are managing their own affairs. Although given the Achbishop of Mordor’s economic restraints readers will have supply their own Kool-Aid.
For me, I’ve been particularly inspired by Archbishop Jensen’s vision to re-energize “lazy and unproductive assets” (those of you with insomnia can listen to his talk here). Has the history of English literature ever witnessed a more musical way of describing the act of taking whatever you can grab to a pawn-broker and then sticking the lot on legs-eleven at the nearest roulette wheel? Pure poetry.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.