Even though I have faithfully heeded the spirit’s call to address the subject a number of times in past weeks, it looks my Sermon this morning is once again going to focus upon the importance of giving generously to one’s Church. This time, however, general parish expenditure will play no part the reasons underlying my carefully-considered exegetical emphasis. (Look: with the price of gas what it is these days, it costs a lot of money to keep my Hummer filled, ok? And it what sort of message would it give to the world if the World’s Most Orthodox Christian couldn’t just drive straight over the top of anyone getting in his way?)
No, this week will see the launch of a special new project – one even more exciting than all the other special new projects I’ve been called to launch here at St. Onuphrius’. In fact this one is so special, new, and exciting, that I can already sense everyone reaching for their plain brown envelopes and cash. That’s because I’ve just learned that Robert Schuller’s Crystal Cathedral is on the market and, My Beloved Sinners, by some miracle of what can only be described as divine timing, this sale coincides with a vision that has come to me - one involving St. Onuphrius’ expansion beyond dear old Ichabod Springs.
Of course nobody should for one moment think my decision to start jumping diocesan boundaries has been taken lightly, even if the idea did just first pop into my head a few minutes ago. Respect for Anglican boundaries is ancient part of the faith delivered unto the saints - one even older than the principle of fearing those different and/or less affluent than oneself. As such it can only be discarded in the most serious of circumstances. Like, for example, those experienced by layman Martyn Minns upon finally realizing his nagging purple itch would never get scratched if he didn’t do something drastic. Or the pressing needs of the former Archbishop of Rwanda, who correctly understood that taking over North American congregations would prove a vastly more lucrative (albeit less spiritually satisfying) substitute for his countrymen’s traditional pastime of butchering the women and children of unrelated tribes.
Needless to say, my reasons are every bit as valid. Firstly; I have always been a great admirer of Robert Schuller: it was his famous aphorism “Turn your scars into stars” which prompted an extremely profitable investment in a chain of tattoo parlours – my “Post-surgery Package” specials revolutionized industry returns. Although I’ve still to experience similar success with his other catchphrase “If you can dream it, you can do it!”, since I have yet to find myself falling down an endless tunnel with Elvis. Although I have on a number of occasions found myself naked in the shopping mall.
Secondly; I have for some time been hearing rumours of the dearth of Biblical teaching in the Los Angeles region. It grieves me deeply to report these were recently confirmed by my discovery that The Friends of Jake - a blog run by a number of people either currently or previously living in California, or who have perhaps vacationed there (or almost certainly know somebody who has once visited Disneyland) - have removed me from their blogroll!!!.
That’s right, and don’t ever dare to think that I don’t notice these things. No stench of apostasy is too subtle to escape my theologically-heightened olfactory senses, and if all you Liberal Homosexualist Christ-following Atheists and your friends think you can escape the two-edged sword of My Teaching that easily you’ve all got another thing coming. One that you ingrates had better believe an Hour of Power on my 236-foot Prayer Tower will teach you for good. (Stop rolling your eyes Consuella – I’m trying to convict these Sinners of their need for repentance!)
Finally, any members of the Crystal Cathedral’s remaing congregation (until now I’d thought only little Don Armstrong or admirers of the Jensen family were capable of shedding 90% of their congregation in just ten years) reading this needn’t worry about my arrival bringing any drastic overnight changes. Bishop Quinine and Brother Richthofen’s Friends from Seminary are already looking forward to bringing Pastor Kok’s Kigdness Korner new vigour (although I’m not sure if that’s because they misheard my saying “Pastor” as “pass the”, or because they’re unaware the man’s family name is spelt a little differently to how they’d assumed).
And admirers of the delightful Kristy Cavinder can rest assured that former Miss California’s liturgical dance ministry will most definitely continue. Although I dare say the girls in the Pole Dancers’ Fellowship may help add a few new moves to her repertoire…
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
++Rowan Gets Biblical (At Last!)
Isn’t it wonderful to see little Archbishop Rowan has finally embraced a Bible-based model of Episcopal leadership. For years we’ve all despaired at God’s Only True Communion being in the hands of someone more interested in studying Dostoevsky than slapping children with Dobson, but now thanks to Andrew Brown of The Guardian we can rejoice that beneath the tangle of Lambeth’s bushiest beard and brow actually lurks the heart of a True Conservative.
That’s right, My Beloved Sinners: the picture of our Preeminent Primate revealed in the recollections of the late Dean Colin Slee is one of a man (although please understand that I use the term loosely) not afraid to bully, intimidate, and generally carry on exactly like the Scriptures show a Prelate should behave.
Indeed, one only has to turn to Matthew 26:65 to see the temple’s High Priest (a title people in Biblical days used for Senior Clergy before they had the Bible to explain that they should really be called Bishops and Doctrinal Warriors) responding to an outrageous allegation (in this instance coming from some upstart who was merely God incarnate, and clearly nobody of any ecclesiastical consequence) by “renting his clothes”. Which doesn’t mean he leased them to poor people in return for a monthly fee, but that he ripped them while shouting and generally carrying on in a manner which in less spiritually mature surroundings would normally result in a team of burly nurses jumping out of a white van and involuntarily administering sedatives.
Rather than suppressing anger, and endeavoring to see things from the other’s perspective, the example of leadership revealed to us here in the New Testament is that of a man exploding, and ensuring his fury is vented upon those around him. Nor should we forget – lest any Apostate Liberals try to deny the passage’s relevance to us today – that this Priest was Jesus’ Minister, since he was in charge of the Church at which Our Lord worshipped. So obviously this must have been the man who gave Jesus all his best ideas (like that one which is something about making little children suffer, or throwing someone into the ocean with a millstone around their neck), since he was the one who would have delivered the sermon Jesus heard each week. In acting like an emotional thug little ++Rowan Williams has finally shown the world that he’s capable of leading in exactly the same manner as the Clergy in Jesus’ day.
Nor should we overlook the example of little Johnny Sentamu. Not only is it clear that the Archbishop of York has been every bit as nasty as ++Cantaur, but in stepping out with three other members of the Crown Nominations Commission at a critical point in the voting for a quick meeting at the urinal (or perhaps the four of them squeezed into a cubicle) (Page 4, Point 26) he’s displayed an understanding of the very essence of ecclesiastical transparency. And next time Bishop Quinine is reported for loitering near a public comfort station we’ll be sure to cite this example in his defense.
Certainly there has in recent years been a great many people questioning the future of our precious Communion in general, as well as that of little Rowan in particular. Yet now I think we can all say with confidence that the time of uncertainty is past. I predict the dynasty of Williams to reign for every bit as long as that of Caiaphas. Whose descendants I’ve no doubt are collecting tithes in Jerusalem. Aren’t they?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
That’s right, My Beloved Sinners: the picture of our Preeminent Primate revealed in the recollections of the late Dean Colin Slee is one of a man (although please understand that I use the term loosely) not afraid to bully, intimidate, and generally carry on exactly like the Scriptures show a Prelate should behave.
Indeed, one only has to turn to Matthew 26:65 to see the temple’s High Priest (a title people in Biblical days used for Senior Clergy before they had the Bible to explain that they should really be called Bishops and Doctrinal Warriors) responding to an outrageous allegation (in this instance coming from some upstart who was merely God incarnate, and clearly nobody of any ecclesiastical consequence) by “renting his clothes”. Which doesn’t mean he leased them to poor people in return for a monthly fee, but that he ripped them while shouting and generally carrying on in a manner which in less spiritually mature surroundings would normally result in a team of burly nurses jumping out of a white van and involuntarily administering sedatives.
Rather than suppressing anger, and endeavoring to see things from the other’s perspective, the example of leadership revealed to us here in the New Testament is that of a man exploding, and ensuring his fury is vented upon those around him. Nor should we forget – lest any Apostate Liberals try to deny the passage’s relevance to us today – that this Priest was Jesus’ Minister, since he was in charge of the Church at which Our Lord worshipped. So obviously this must have been the man who gave Jesus all his best ideas (like that one which is something about making little children suffer, or throwing someone into the ocean with a millstone around their neck), since he was the one who would have delivered the sermon Jesus heard each week. In acting like an emotional thug little ++Rowan Williams has finally shown the world that he’s capable of leading in exactly the same manner as the Clergy in Jesus’ day.
Nor should we overlook the example of little Johnny Sentamu. Not only is it clear that the Archbishop of York has been every bit as nasty as ++Cantaur, but in stepping out with three other members of the Crown Nominations Commission at a critical point in the voting for a quick meeting at the urinal (or perhaps the four of them squeezed into a cubicle) (Page 4, Point 26) he’s displayed an understanding of the very essence of ecclesiastical transparency. And next time Bishop Quinine is reported for loitering near a public comfort station we’ll be sure to cite this example in his defense.
Certainly there has in recent years been a great many people questioning the future of our precious Communion in general, as well as that of little Rowan in particular. Yet now I think we can all say with confidence that the time of uncertainty is past. I predict the dynasty of Williams to reign for every bit as long as that of Caiaphas. Whose descendants I’ve no doubt are collecting tithes in Jerusalem. Aren’t they?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Hasta la vista, baby...
Isn't it heartbreaking, My Beloved Sinners, to see how Liberals and Atheists are trying to besmirch the reputation of the most inspiring advocate for anabolic steroids to have ever held public office? I'm speaking, of course, of former governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, the man who despite the obvious disability of being born a foreigner, proved that with the help of a well-filled posing pouch, body-oil, and plenty of intravenously injected hormones, nothing is impossible through faith.
I'm referring, of course, to the "outrage" over revelations that the ex-governor impregnated his family's housekeeper - tragic proof of the extent to which Apostate Episcopalians have rendered the world Biblically Illiterate, and compromised our once clear understanding of Scriptural teachings on the family. And in turning their backs upon these examples which were given for all men's edification (in addition to any women who as a result of having been raised in unbelieving households are able to read), these so-called "Anglicans" not yet in schism from Canterbury have reached now plumbed depths so perverse that they would even condemn those humbly walking in the footsteps of our own ancestor in God's salvific covenant.
Those of you who still have Bibles should please turn to Galatians 3:7 (those of you without your own personal copy of God’s Word should simply steal one of the Gideons’ after your next rendezvous at a local motel). Reading what you see there will show that even an Ould twin can’t quibble over the fact that Abraham is the spiritual father of all who would call themselves “Christian”. Then turn to Proverbs 4:1, where you will see the indisputable command for sons to pay attention and learn from their father’s instruction and example. Indeed, so seriously does the Bible take the issue of filial obedience that Deuteronomy 21:18-21 is it quite clear that disrespectful sons must be put to death – something so-called “experts” on the family like James Dobson invariably water down, like the wishy-washy liberals they really are.
No, My Sinners, an obedient son does as his father did. And our father Abraham generously shared the seed of his loins with his wife’s housekeeper – you can read of his faithfulness for yourselves in Genesis 16:1-4. Which is exactly what ex-governor Schwarzenegger did, presumably whilst enjoying a well-deserved break from repetitively lifting things (or one of the many other intensely cerebral challenges which comprise the sport of bodybuilding).
That’s right - he followed the example of our father Abraham! So it’s no wonder that those embracing the homosexualist agenda to allow people to live as God has made them are now criticizing the man Christians know and love as “the Governator”. Anyone wicked enough to hold that the Sacrament of Marriage - an institution which the inerrant word of Scripture clearly shows is for the benefit of one man, one woman, and the woman’s slave(s)/personal staff – was also given as a blessing to loving monogamous couples (including those with similarly-shaped smelly bits) - has clearly abandoned the “faith once and for all delivered to the saints”. As such it’s no surprise that they would also denigrate a god-fearing Republican for choosing to faithfully embrace a Biblical lifestyle.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
I'm referring, of course, to the "outrage" over revelations that the ex-governor impregnated his family's housekeeper - tragic proof of the extent to which Apostate Episcopalians have rendered the world Biblically Illiterate, and compromised our once clear understanding of Scriptural teachings on the family. And in turning their backs upon these examples which were given for all men's edification (in addition to any women who as a result of having been raised in unbelieving households are able to read), these so-called "Anglicans" not yet in schism from Canterbury have reached now plumbed depths so perverse that they would even condemn those humbly walking in the footsteps of our own ancestor in God's salvific covenant.
Those of you who still have Bibles should please turn to Galatians 3:7 (those of you without your own personal copy of God’s Word should simply steal one of the Gideons’ after your next rendezvous at a local motel). Reading what you see there will show that even an Ould twin can’t quibble over the fact that Abraham is the spiritual father of all who would call themselves “Christian”. Then turn to Proverbs 4:1, where you will see the indisputable command for sons to pay attention and learn from their father’s instruction and example. Indeed, so seriously does the Bible take the issue of filial obedience that Deuteronomy 21:18-21 is it quite clear that disrespectful sons must be put to death – something so-called “experts” on the family like James Dobson invariably water down, like the wishy-washy liberals they really are.
No, My Sinners, an obedient son does as his father did. And our father Abraham generously shared the seed of his loins with his wife’s housekeeper – you can read of his faithfulness for yourselves in Genesis 16:1-4. Which is exactly what ex-governor Schwarzenegger did, presumably whilst enjoying a well-deserved break from repetitively lifting things (or one of the many other intensely cerebral challenges which comprise the sport of bodybuilding).
That’s right - he followed the example of our father Abraham! So it’s no wonder that those embracing the homosexualist agenda to allow people to live as God has made them are now criticizing the man Christians know and love as “the Governator”. Anyone wicked enough to hold that the Sacrament of Marriage - an institution which the inerrant word of Scripture clearly shows is for the benefit of one man, one woman, and the woman’s slave(s)/personal staff – was also given as a blessing to loving monogamous couples (including those with similarly-shaped smelly bits) - has clearly abandoned the “faith once and for all delivered to the saints”. As such it’s no surprise that they would also denigrate a god-fearing Republican for choosing to faithfully embrace a Biblical lifestyle.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
If I were Hal Lindsey I'd sue.
Honestly, My Beloved Sinners; all the attention currently being paid to little Harold Camping and his assertion that this coming Saturday evening is going to be a little more memorable than most is making this old Doctrinal Warrior sick.
I mean really, if God was going to spill any secrets that big, He’d do so with me. The mere idea that I would be left out of a loop this large is ridiculous - let alone the notion that the best person the Almighty could find to call the nations to repentance is some fool who hasn’t even put any Google advertisements on his web site in order to capitalize on all the attention. After all, Harold Camping isn’t even an Anglican, so how he can possibly claim to understand anything of what the Bible teaches? Although, I’ve got admit, neither are little Peter Jensen and his family, and that doesn’t stop them from laboring under the same delusion.
Not of course, that this isn’t proving a fabulous opportunity for us here at St. Onuphrius’. Our special Rapture Insurance® team of Lay Ministers/Sales personnel has been simply overun with enquiries, and their closure rate has hit an all-time high - currently few than one in ten contracts are involuntary, or made to persons deemed medically incapable of understanding what they’re signing. With one paltry down payment (cash only please, although welfare recipients are permitted to sign their check over) people can enjoy peace of mind knowing that in the event of their being raptured any unsaved loved ones will be provided for.
Naturally provisions apply - as with any reputable insurance product – and for the benefit of any of you big-government types out there I would like to stress that any offers made by or purporting to be made on behalf of Rapture Insurance Ministries® pertain only to persons residing in such jurisdictions as where this sort of thing can be got away with and I am in no way liable for any actions made which may appear to be in contravention of this fact. (Sorry about that, but one can’t be too careful about such matters. And there's never such a thing as too much fine print when you're a Conservative. Just ask little Peter Ould. Or Harold on Sunday morning.)
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
I mean really, if God was going to spill any secrets that big, He’d do so with me. The mere idea that I would be left out of a loop this large is ridiculous - let alone the notion that the best person the Almighty could find to call the nations to repentance is some fool who hasn’t even put any Google advertisements on his web site in order to capitalize on all the attention. After all, Harold Camping isn’t even an Anglican, so how he can possibly claim to understand anything of what the Bible teaches? Although, I’ve got admit, neither are little Peter Jensen and his family, and that doesn’t stop them from laboring under the same delusion.
Not of course, that this isn’t proving a fabulous opportunity for us here at St. Onuphrius’. Our special Rapture Insurance® team of Lay Ministers/Sales personnel has been simply overun with enquiries, and their closure rate has hit an all-time high - currently few than one in ten contracts are involuntary, or made to persons deemed medically incapable of understanding what they’re signing. With one paltry down payment (cash only please, although welfare recipients are permitted to sign their check over) people can enjoy peace of mind knowing that in the event of their being raptured any unsaved loved ones will be provided for.
Naturally provisions apply - as with any reputable insurance product – and for the benefit of any of you big-government types out there I would like to stress that any offers made by or purporting to be made on behalf of Rapture Insurance Ministries® pertain only to persons residing in such jurisdictions as where this sort of thing can be got away with and I am in no way liable for any actions made which may appear to be in contravention of this fact. (Sorry about that, but one can’t be too careful about such matters. And there's never such a thing as too much fine print when you're a Conservative. Just ask little Peter Ould. Or Harold on Sunday morning.)
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Breaking News: Martyngale to Sing in Berkeley Square!
As those Beloved Sinners sufficiently righteous to be numbered among myFacebook friends will be aware, after years of trying Bishop Quinine has finally magnetized his skull plate.* Unfortunately he was in the Rectory kitchen at the time, and the force generated proved so powerful that that our Primate-in-residence was dragged across the room to the refrigerator, to which he has remained magnetically adhered ever since.
In search of a solution to this minor inconvenience he has been feverishly studying everything Charles Berlitz wrote on the Philadelphia Experiment (Mr. Berlitz, for those unfamiliar with his legacy, was to science what little David Virtue is to theology). Whilst so far finding nothing of any help in relation to demagnetization, he currently (no pun intended) has Evangelical Eric constructing a Tesla coil around himself and his conjoined appliance. Once completed and electrified he is certain this will result in the ability to travel freely through space and time – hopefully sans the parish Kenmore.
Mind you, I can’t see what the fuss is. I've never encountered a faux-bishop not floating around with his head in the clouds. For the latest example one need look no further than dear little layman Martyn Minns. Having bailed the CANA “lifeboat” for longer than could ever be reasonably expected of a man who’s eyes still gleam purple with ambitious desperation, he’s now announced an end to his life of simultaneously juggling Bobby Duncan’s sect whilst massaging egos in Lagos.
Instead he’s going to be heading up a “GAFCON Global Coordination office” in London, which among other important gospel essentials like have an impressive desk and a shiny computer from which he will speak with the authentic voice of Anglicans in the developing world, but will also be the planning nerve-center for the most exciting thing to happen to my Google ranking since the GAFCON pilgrimage itself – GAFCON 2. (Don’t worry Martyn: I’ve already registered “Gafcon 2” with Blogspot, and as we get nearer the big day I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of Beloved Sinners willing to post there to help keep Googling media-types heading our way).
Of course the best thing about this exciting news (which I notice at time of writing little Martyn hasn’t bothered to share with his flock via the CANA News site - but hey: what business has any of this to do with those who pay to keep him in the manner to which a faux-bishop is entitled?) is that it means little Bobby Duncan won’t have to cross his fingers any more when saying “Yes – the Province of ACNA is officially recognized in England.” How long after Minns’ has signed the lease on a nice little carpeted hole in the wall do you think it will be before Bobby issues a release to that effect? My money’s on twenty minutes, but Consuella gives him five max.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
*For the curious: Bishop Quinine’s skull plate was surgically implanted as a result of his childhood abduction by vivisectionists, who mistook him for a rare species of hairless monkey. Sold to a Swiss pharmaceutical conglomerate, it was only several months after experiments had commenced that he was identified as human and released.
In search of a solution to this minor inconvenience he has been feverishly studying everything Charles Berlitz wrote on the Philadelphia Experiment (Mr. Berlitz, for those unfamiliar with his legacy, was to science what little David Virtue is to theology). Whilst so far finding nothing of any help in relation to demagnetization, he currently (no pun intended) has Evangelical Eric constructing a Tesla coil around himself and his conjoined appliance. Once completed and electrified he is certain this will result in the ability to travel freely through space and time – hopefully sans the parish Kenmore.
Mind you, I can’t see what the fuss is. I've never encountered a faux-bishop not floating around with his head in the clouds. For the latest example one need look no further than dear little layman Martyn Minns. Having bailed the CANA “lifeboat” for longer than could ever be reasonably expected of a man who’s eyes still gleam purple with ambitious desperation, he’s now announced an end to his life of simultaneously juggling Bobby Duncan’s sect whilst massaging egos in Lagos.
Instead he’s going to be heading up a “GAFCON Global Coordination office” in London, which among other important gospel essentials like have an impressive desk and a shiny computer from which he will speak with the authentic voice of Anglicans in the developing world, but will also be the planning nerve-center for the most exciting thing to happen to my Google ranking since the GAFCON pilgrimage itself – GAFCON 2. (Don’t worry Martyn: I’ve already registered “Gafcon 2” with Blogspot, and as we get nearer the big day I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of Beloved Sinners willing to post there to help keep Googling media-types heading our way).
Of course the best thing about this exciting news (which I notice at time of writing little Martyn hasn’t bothered to share with his flock via the CANA News site - but hey: what business has any of this to do with those who pay to keep him in the manner to which a faux-bishop is entitled?) is that it means little Bobby Duncan won’t have to cross his fingers any more when saying “Yes – the Province of ACNA is officially recognized in England.” How long after Minns’ has signed the lease on a nice little carpeted hole in the wall do you think it will be before Bobby issues a release to that effect? My money’s on twenty minutes, but Consuella gives him five max.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
*For the curious: Bishop Quinine’s skull plate was surgically implanted as a result of his childhood abduction by vivisectionists, who mistook him for a rare species of hairless monkey. Sold to a Swiss pharmaceutical conglomerate, it was only several months after experiments had commenced that he was identified as human and released.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Mother's Day Sermon, 2011
Following an overwhelming flood of requests (ok - one of you asked) I present the text of the inspiring sermon I delivered to my packed congregation of enthralled Sinners last Sunday morning.
In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Book…
Few things are more indicative of the Apostate Liberal Malaise afflicting our Church in this dark and shameless age than the lectionary’s bald reference to today as “The Third Sunday in Easter”. That’s right, My Beloved Sinners; were the recognition paid to this Holiest of occasions by our Ungodly Prelates and their Biblically Illiterate Liturgists anything to go by it might as well not be Mother’s Day at all, but merely one of a sequence of Sundays subsequent to the anniversary of some minor event which occurred way back in the mists of time.
However by the Grace of God, and a rewritten Parish Constitution appointing me as Rector in perpetuity, St. Onuphrius’ has been blessed with a Leader who will NEVER succumb to whatever flight of fancy is the latest to tickle the ears of those determined to take you all to Hell in a handbasket, and in this parish the second Sunday in May always has been, and always will be, known by its proper liturgical title: Mother’s Day. Just as it was by the Reformers, and St. James who wrote our Holy Scriptures, and even by St. Paul himself.
Nor should any of you ever allow your wicked hearts and uneducated minds to be led astray by those who would argue that the Church Fathers made no reference to this day, nor proscribed the date upon which all Christian nations ought celebrate it. That’s exactly the kind of picky detail with which those who would seek to destroy the Gospel by reducing the value of my substantial shareholding in a number of firms manufacturing greeting cards would say. Furthermore, don’t for one instant accept the glib protests made by those in Great Britain or Nigeria that their own heretical celebration upon the fourth Sunday in Lent is just as good. It’s Lent, for goodness sake! That’s a time for reflection, piety and increasing one’s giving to Church, not for spending up big on the one from whose loins you were expelled. If these heterodox so-called “Christians” were serious about wishing to celebrate Mother’s Day on a different date to the that which was ordained by God they would at least choose one after ours, thereby giving Bible-believers a chance to offload anything we couldn’t sell on the real occasion.
Mother’s Day is a sacred occasion on which every one of you must, in addition to purchasing a handful of the most expensive cards you can find, prayerfully remember not just your own Mother, and - if like me you are a man who has faithfully heeded Our Lord’s command to “Be fruitful and multiply” - the various Mothers of your offspring, but all women who have reproduced. Although you should never succumb to the temptation of permitting your reverence to be anything other than sentimental. This is no time for dwelling upon the pragmatic details of reality, or what members of the gender whom St. John Chrysostom sensitively described as able to "effect nothing of themselves" might mistakenly think shows respect for Motherhood - like affordable health-care, or universally accessible child-care
Rather it is a time to show how much you really value and esteem the Hallowed Calling of the maternal gender - by giving a bunch of flowers, and a new pot-holder. And have I mentioned the importance of buying cards?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Ding dong, the witch is dead?
Isn’t it what you’d expect from a bearded foreigner? I’d just completed writing an inspired and sensitive epilogue to my important role at the Royal Wedding, and was about to post it when news came through that Osama bin Laden has gone to meet his 72 virgins. Or whatever it is that happens to those choosing his manner of lifestyle when the big broker in the sky makes an option call. (The share market metaphor is especially for my dear little Jensenist readers, who visit on an almost daily basis, and whom I know have been feeling neglected in recent homilies.)
Still, Consuella has been complaining about having heard enough of this epic celebration of democracy, and keeps muttering something about “pan y circo para el pueblo”, so it’s probably better to postpone my original piece for a while. It may be spring, but here in Ichabod Springs the weather’s still not yet pleasant enough for a Doctrinal Warrior to keep his own bed warm at night.
So with no further ado, let me begin by stressing that Bin Laden's death signifies the beginning of a wonderful new era. Henceforth Christians should expect young Islamic men to cease growing beards and wrapping their heads in their grandmother’s tea towel. Instead of starting their day listening to some constipated mullah calling the faithful to prayer, they’ll be taking wholesome cold showers before enjoying a diligent Quiet Time studying Every Day With Jesus. Rather than mindlessly repeating “Allahu Akbar” they’ll be reverentially shouting “PTL!” and telling complete strangers about “the awesomely awesome time of teaching and worship we shared at fellowship last Friday night”.
Consequently it’s obvious this truly is an occasion for celebration. Stop and consider, if you will, how many internet-savvy sinners have today taken a break from their restless quest for nudie pics to glorify Christ by conducting Google searches based around the phrase “dead Osama gore”. And think how much media attention has been diverted away from the popish idolatry of John Paul II’s beatification – no wonder the Romans are trying to rain on the parade.
After all, just take a look at this picture I lifted from The Washington Post of bin Laden’s house:
I mean really; just look at that grass. It must have been weeks since the man made one of his wives mow it. Anyone capable of letting crabgrass go to seed like that is simply a menace to society. And don’t be fooled by the rest of the place, sure he’s got neat bits of what look like old pickup trucks lying around, and that satellite dish looks damn fine, but see how there’s no deck? And no barbecue! That means he was the kind of guy who never invited his buddies around to share the great reception he gets on Fox Sports over a few beers and pork ribs. Which proves beyond all doubt he was evil, and got what was coming.
Of course there’s always someone who thinks the Bible is relevant at a time like this. After finding someone else I wisely stopped looking. People who suggest the Bible has any relevance when It’s not talking about homosexualists, or being used to keep women out of leadership, are just dangerous as far as I’m concerned. Invariably they’re the same type who try and claim following Jesus involves a commitment to some ludicrous ethic transcending the god-given Babylonian precept of ‘an eye for an eye’.
What I am nervous about, however, is that having finally executed a man responsible for the death of thousands, the Coalition of the Willing is going to move on to those responsible for the deaths of millions. And where will that leave the fine upstanding men and women responsible for unsafe automobiles, tobacco, and unaffordable health care?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the bible.
Still, Consuella has been complaining about having heard enough of this epic celebration of democracy, and keeps muttering something about “pan y circo para el pueblo”, so it’s probably better to postpone my original piece for a while. It may be spring, but here in Ichabod Springs the weather’s still not yet pleasant enough for a Doctrinal Warrior to keep his own bed warm at night.
So with no further ado, let me begin by stressing that Bin Laden's death signifies the beginning of a wonderful new era. Henceforth Christians should expect young Islamic men to cease growing beards and wrapping their heads in their grandmother’s tea towel. Instead of starting their day listening to some constipated mullah calling the faithful to prayer, they’ll be taking wholesome cold showers before enjoying a diligent Quiet Time studying Every Day With Jesus. Rather than mindlessly repeating “Allahu Akbar” they’ll be reverentially shouting “PTL!” and telling complete strangers about “the awesomely awesome time of teaching and worship we shared at fellowship last Friday night”.
Consequently it’s obvious this truly is an occasion for celebration. Stop and consider, if you will, how many internet-savvy sinners have today taken a break from their restless quest for nudie pics to glorify Christ by conducting Google searches based around the phrase “dead Osama gore”. And think how much media attention has been diverted away from the popish idolatry of John Paul II’s beatification – no wonder the Romans are trying to rain on the parade.
After all, just take a look at this picture I lifted from The Washington Post of bin Laden’s house:
I mean really; just look at that grass. It must have been weeks since the man made one of his wives mow it. Anyone capable of letting crabgrass go to seed like that is simply a menace to society. And don’t be fooled by the rest of the place, sure he’s got neat bits of what look like old pickup trucks lying around, and that satellite dish looks damn fine, but see how there’s no deck? And no barbecue! That means he was the kind of guy who never invited his buddies around to share the great reception he gets on Fox Sports over a few beers and pork ribs. Which proves beyond all doubt he was evil, and got what was coming.
Of course there’s always someone who thinks the Bible is relevant at a time like this. After finding someone else I wisely stopped looking. People who suggest the Bible has any relevance when It’s not talking about homosexualists, or being used to keep women out of leadership, are just dangerous as far as I’m concerned. Invariably they’re the same type who try and claim following Jesus involves a commitment to some ludicrous ethic transcending the god-given Babylonian precept of ‘an eye for an eye’.
What I am nervous about, however, is that having finally executed a man responsible for the death of thousands, the Coalition of the Willing is going to move on to those responsible for the deaths of millions. And where will that leave the fine upstanding men and women responsible for unsafe automobiles, tobacco, and unaffordable health care?
I’m Father Christian and I teach the bible.
Subscribe to:
Posts
(
Atom
)