To my great astonishment, whilst I’ve been concentrating on my calling to be a more successful Christian author than Jackie Collins, Harold Robins and N.T. Wright combined, the Worldwide Anglican Communion hasn’t been standing still. Not that it's actually been going anywhere either, unless one considers the exercise of collective futility quaintly referred to by ++Rowan as “considering the Covenant” as of any significance – in which case you’ll probably also regard Bishop Quinine’s fetching new Alice B. Toklas outfit as the most important event in church history since a few fellows in pointy hats invited their friends with beards to a party in Chalcedon.
Mind you, some of the reports I’ve heard are positively ludicrous: take, for example, the rumor that the future head of the Church of England has just got engaged. How anyone could be fooled by such a tale simply staggers me! After all, everyone knows Archbishop Akinola is already married, and like St. Paul and Cardinal Newman (alright, maybe not exactly like John-Henry, but you know what I mean, and let’s not go upsetting any of our sensitive Forward-in-Faith friends) I am called to remain unmarried for the sake of the Gospel while maintaining a rigorously Biblical relationship with Consuella. So obviously the prospect of any future wedding is utterly ridiculous.
On the other hand, I regret to say that it is indeed true that the Diocese of Uruguay has voted to leave little Bishop Greg Venalballs and his Southern Cone. Nor are they doing so the proper Conservative way, and illegally taking all of someone else’s property and assets with them as they do so, since their Provincial Constitution permits them to leave if they wish to do so for some stupid reason such like the majority of the Church mistakenly believing those without penises are as capable of proclaiming the Grace of God as those who routinely urinate standing up.
Mind you, I did warn little Greg that no good would come from associating with foreigners. Certainly the way he’s managed to spend as little time as possible in his Province shows the boy’s attempted to pay at least some heed to my advice, but clearly the few locals he’s been unable to talk into joining churches more suitable for their type have begun to get foolish notions about the Spirit calling people with vaginas to minister the Sacraments within the Body of Christ. I mean really – next these false prophets will start claiming the first people to bear witness to our Resurrected Lord were women, and that Yahweh didn’t speak to Deborah the Prophet and Judge of Israel in English!
At which point I’ll have to leave you all for now. Given how Salman Rushdie’s sales went through the roof after he’d seriously offended Muslims I’m about to try a similar strategy, and a reporter from Desert Saints Magazine has just arrived for what he will very soon discover is the launch of my new book, “The Satanic Bicycles”. And if that doesn’t get a profiable fatwa declared then Bishop Quinine’s brownies definitely will.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.