Ho, ho, ho.

It’s Christmas, and the season of good will to all. Which is why I’ve been dreadfully busy neglecting my customary Advent duties - ensuring My Parishioners purchase me lavish presents as an indication of their Biblical Maturity – for something even more important: preserving the American right to purchase and possess semi-automatic firearms with magazines large enough to kill entire crowds of our fellow citizens.

If the truth be told, however, these past few weeks have been witness to an epic struggle between myself and the wicked, godless, irresponsible, child-of-perdition whom is honoured with the privilege of channelling My Words on this blog. I realize Faithful Sinners will all find this hard to believe, but upon learning of the massacre in Newtown, Connecticut, the foolish liberal actually had the nerve to threaten me to my metaphoric virtual face, saying that there was no longer anything funny about sharing headspace with a Conservative parody of my magnitude.

Indeed, when Bryan Fischer aired what might be flatteringly described as his "thoughts" my wicked scribe even went so far as to say there was no longer any need for a Rev. Dr. Father Troll – reality had rendered my schtick redundant. With Mike Huckabee picking up the refrain, and even James Dobson taking a break from beating his dachshund (Sit down Dr. Freud!! Nobody here finds the symbolism as amusing as you do.) to jump on board the bandwagon, the world no longer needed My Ministry.

Not even reasoning helped: trying to calmly put the murder of twenty-six children and six teachers into perspective against the far bigger risk of finding oneself unarmed in the face of an attack by 18th century British soldiers did nothing to shift My Mutinous Secretary’s stubborn conviction. Explanations that this was only the sixth mass shooting this year meant there was hardly justification for approaching the issue of gun control with undue haste simply fell on deaf ears. And inspired a tirade in which the word “idiot” was used more than even my opposition to universal health care could justify.

Appealing to facts was no more successful. Government statistics show that in 2007 firearms were responsible for a mere 31,224 deaths (see page 11 of the previous link) – which when compared with the truly shocking figure of 23 ,199 alcohol related deaths completely justifies the priorities of my Baptist imitators. Yet the only response of My Disrespectful Typist was to repeat an irrelevant refrain – “The slaughter has to stop.”

Explanations that the Newtown incident would never have occurred if each of those children had been equipped with a .223-caliber Bushmaster assault rifle of their own met with similar disrespect: how can one even begin to engage in meaningful dialogue with someone who refuses to believe that Sylvester Stallone/Clint Eastwood movies accurately depict the reality of a firefight?

Which brings us to where we are today: the anniversary of Christ Jesus’ birth. The terrible troublemaker responsible for bringing you My Words has at last relented, and in honor of today’s significance agreed to let me once again bless the intertubes with My Presence. Yet – although it pains me to admit this – perhaps I am closer to My Scribe than I care to believe. For in closing the only words I can find are these:

Have a wonderful Christmas, and thank you for dropping by here during the year. Amidst the laughter and joy of today spare a thought for those families whose child is no longer present to enjoy the excitement anticipated a lifetime ago, before December 14 – or before any other of countless horrors which have torn us apart in these shadowlands. Never forget that God’s intervention into our confusion and bitterness has meant the darkness shall never win, and that Love is greater than all – including the so-called “right” to own instruments of death.

Take time today to value those around you. Tell them you love them, for you never know hard it might be to do so tomorrow. Turn off the television, shut down the computer for a few minutes, and remember the feeling of the breeze on your face. Sing for joy in the Saviour’s birth, and gasp with amazement at the One God who walks beside you, irrespective of who, where, or what you are. Light candles and eat and drink richly of the courage which comes from the truth that we shall not always see through a glass darkly.

 L'amour est plus fort que la mort.

Father Christian's modest proposal.

As I write these words Palestinians are blowing the beAllah out of Israelis, who are in return blowing the beAdonai out of Palestinians. My Curate, Evangelical Eric, holds Obama responsible, and insists the President could fix everything by blowing the beJesus out of Iran. Although since my Curate also blames Obama for the infected hair follicle preventing him from crossing his legs without wincing it’s understandable the White House hasn’t been responding to the boy’s unsolicited letters of advice. Meanwhile My Biblically Traditional Brethren everywhere remain paralysed with grief over last week’s electoral tragedy, leaving me to boldly carve a way forward alone through these terrible days.

Indeed, at times like these even the most god-forsaken Liberal is forced to admit that a Teacher of My Calibre is more than just a pretty face draped in man-lace every Sunday. That’s because the situation we now face is one of fact - the dreadful reality that the Sacred Principle of democracy has been forever perverted by the election of a candidate not approved of by White Conservative Men. In response only those who embrace facts like Jonah’s survival for three days in a fish's gastrointestinal tract, or that human linguistic variations result from the attempted construct of a tower in the ancient near east, can possibly have what it takes to invent the facts required to lead Sinners through the coming apocalypse of affordable healthcare and improved public education.

Hence my advice to Sinners trembling with fear of the scythe of socialism about to fall upon their unblemished necks is to not do anything foolish, such as trying to understand what socialism actually is before throwing the term around like confetti at a mafia wedding. Instead everyone should simply be quiet and listen to me. Because unlike My Imitators, not all my research involves visiting web sites asking for a valid card number, and I have discovered something Very Important of which you need to be aware. Look at this:

The table above is a list of the ten U.S. states with the highest incarceration rates in the country - imprisonment figures so impressive that these places actually lead the world when it comes to locking people up. And behold the election result - 90% of these states voted the way god told Me his people must vote!

But on the other hand, look at the result in those states failing to realize that Liberty depends upon keeping as many as possible under lock and key:

These are the states with the lowest incarceration rates per 100 000 citizens and the tragic result is undeniable - now we’re looking at 70% of votes being cast exactly as directed from the pit of hell! Godless Socialist Liberals can whine all they like about babies born in countries like Malaysia, Cuba, Lithuania, and Poland having a better chance of survival than those born in the United States, but there’s no argument about the facts - the number of people a community imprisons is directly proportional to number of votes for the freedom that lets fine American Businessmen like Bernie Madoff, or Exemplars of Family Values like Donald Trump, do what they do best!

Thanks to My Enlightened Exegetical Teaching you will now see that unless Americans immediately begin imprisoning as many of their fellow citizens as possible the Nation cannot hope to survive. My recommendation is that we begin with known Communists and trouble makers, such as those admitting to own recordings by R.E.M., or who know what Born in the U.S.A. is really about. And foreigners of course, along with everyone who doesn’t think Churches have a natural right to tax-exemption. Simply locking up these deviant members of our society will of itself ensure a electoral disaster of the kind with which Unfaithful Americans have just been chastised is never happens again. Then later on, to be certain about National Security, we can jail those elements exerting a more subtle influence for evil, such as everybody with the letter “e” in their name.

The Scriptures don’t call America “The Home of the Brave” without good reason, but we need to prove that bravery with the blood of as many young people as possible. And those whom we can’t render limbless and emotionally-cored by PTSD need to be jailed, along with anyone else daring to hope for a society not run by plutocrats. Only when chain-gangs line every roadway, and privately-owned prisons can manufacture consumer goods at a price and under conditions which make Foxconn jealous, will America truly be The Land of the Free.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Known by the company you keep…

One of the most enjoyable things about being an Authentically Biblical Traditionalist is the knowledge that you stand in your conviction alongside so many truly wonderful people. Over the years I’ve introduced My Beloved Sinners to far too many to name here: certainly the lovely Davids Virtue and Ould deserve a mention, as does Colorado Springs’ (and CANA’s) epitome of integrity, Donny Armstrong, who is currently on probation and quite appropriately not feeling he owes any apology for having misappropriated close to one hundred thousand of his church’s hard-earned. Nor can I omit the nut-job on Facebook who accuses me of being anti-family, and then posts this Valentine’s Day message of marital devotion:

But it is with thanks to Republican Tears - essential reading for anyone with an inclination to sail the subtle seas of schadenfreude – that I’ve come across someone who rises above even these great names in the mighty world of Contemporary Christian Misogyny: the author of the timeless What the Right Doesn’t Get About Elections.

Be warned, however, before you rush to click that link and wallow in the trough of what you will find there: if you think folks can’t get any nastier than the fun-loving throng at Viagraville you’re in for a very big shock. In fact tis piece is so outstandingly Conservative that the response generated frightened the courageous author into removing it (hence my link is to Google’s cached version) and closing down his site, the ironically named “Christian Men’s Defense Network” (How can anyone not love the neo-nazi styling of his title font? Although why would someone wanting to style themselves as a “defender” want to align themselves with one of the most comprehensively defeated military regimes in history – one with a leader so brave that rather than face the consequences of defeat he preferred to shoot his dog and wife before turning the gun on himself? Or are the answers to such mysteries self-evident?)

And now before closing I’d like to assure everyone devastated by the success of the Liberal Plot to prevent my appointment as Archbishop of Canterbury to do their very best to keep their chins up. Many have found that sending me a large and expensive gift by way of consolation helps with their grief, and I’d encourage each one of to prayerfully consider this as a means of helping you find solace in these sad times. Meanwhile – and since this concerns a matter of a highly confidential nature I’m not at liberty to discuss it further – I have already been approached in regard to a different appointment even more suited to a Man of My Experience. And you’d better believe when I’m the one sending sexy emails from that office those responsible for overlooking My Obvious Vocation to lead the Anglican Communion will find themselves framed quicker than you can say “Rosenberg”.

I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

"A fool's mouth is his ruin... " (Proverps 18:7)

“The constitution is toast. A second term guarantees Obama imposes Soviet style rule.”

Little Greg Griffiths - Viagraville

In a postscript to My Previous Important Homily I introduced My Beloved Sinners to a boy whom The New York Times quoted as describing President Obama as “an arrogant Communist.”

Now to be fair to this young fellow, he was attending what he had doubtless expected would be the biggest party since Grover Norquist first learned how to play pup-tent with a pin-up of Ayn Rand, and things had undoubtedly turned a little tired and emotional by the time someone from all the news that’s fit to print arrived for a soundbite. Although one would think a resident of Florida would have before now met someone with a little first hand experience of life under regimes which really do think Marx’s crazy café-table jottings offer an improvement on the political structure of the nation which gave the world electric guitars, Jack Daniels, and the freedom to grow a ZZ Top beard if that’s what you’ve got your heart set on. At which point I’m sure this person would have been more than happy to explain that however much you might dislike the democratically elected President of the U.S.A., describing him as a “communist” is taking things just a tad too far.

Still, as a Romney supporter this boy is by definition also a True Christian, so he quite understandably wouldn’t have wanted engage in dialogue with someone almost certainly a foreigner lest doing so lead him into sin and away from the one who is quite obviously incapable of keeping us from falling. Quite correctly he has chosen to leave the thinking up to Infallible Bible Teachers like Myself, or, in a pinch, little Greg Griffiths when it comes to reality. Which is a Good Thing, because when it comes to identifying Communists we know everything.

In the case of little Greg – who is, I must explain, known around the intertubes by those familiar with his fine and balanced style of histrionics as “Melanie” – this is because he, by his own admission watched a few Soviet movies while he was at college. So there can be no doubting his credentials as an expert on all things to the left of Rush Limbaugh. Whereas my uncannily accurate ability to identify godless Leninist Marxists whenever they might subversively choose to participate in the electoral processes of unabashedly capitalist economies comes from personal missionary experience in these unprincipled realms of concrete and very bad dentistry.

That’s right, My Beloved Sinners: as someone who not infrequently was called by the spirit to sojourn in Berlin during the halcyon days when there were fortunes to be made selling Beatles records, bubble-gum and blue jeans to the poor unfortunates trapped on the eastern side of the wall thoughtfully erected to ensure black-market prices stayed high, I have had no small degree of personal experience with the horrors Soviet dictators are capable of inflicting. And not just in East Germany – during another sequence of visits to Moscow in the time of Brezhnev, when I was bravely pioneering the industry which was to become known today as “Russian Bride Scams” (sadly my bold Trump-like entrepreneurship failed to reap the rewards to which I was entitled on account of the internet not yet having been invented – although I can with modest pride take comfort in having generously paved the way for countless other Orthodox Christian Capitalists now getting around in expensive non-American cars) I quickly became aware of Communism’s terrible consequences. So impressive was the price which could be obtained for a few dog-eared copies of Playboy that it simply broke one’s heart to think of the way Christians at the time took the Times Square grindhouse district for granted.

All of which means that when I say Melanie isn’t exaggerating you can be sure I know what I’m talking about. And that you can be sure everything else the boy says is every bit as well thought aout and based in fact. What began as Obama’s socialist conspiracy to save American auto industry jobs from moving to Japan where they rightfully belong (has anyone ever heard of something so unpatriotic?) has progressed to a shamelessly Marxist determination to lower the nation’s infant mortality rate by ensuring affordable health care for those babies so foolish as to be born to parents unable to pay for the care to which white Christians like the those to whom Melanie’s site is directed are entitled. Mark my words, now that we can expect another four years of Obamacare I wouldn’t be surprised if America’s neo-natal death rate falls to the extent where we are no longer proudly behind such great nations as Cuba, Croatia, and Cyprus when it comes to caring for our littlest ones’ well-being. Although someone really ought to tell the folks at Viagraville that The Fountainhead is not normally considered one of the synoptic gospels.

In closing let me just invite everyone experiencing something of the rage being felt not only by Melanie and his cohorts, but also by bastions of traditional marriage like Donald Trump, and pillars of unbiased reportage like Karl Rove and Fox, to share in a little hymn folks here at St. Onuphrius’ have been singing in the wake of Obama’s tragic re-election. Listen to the words and it just might help explain what happens when minorities start working together in the way that Jesus calls them to..



I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Don't be happy: worry.

As all of My Regular Readers will testify, I’ve always said the “church” of Mormon is a dangerous cult, and about as far removed from the faith of Orthodox Bible-Believers as it’s possible to get without donning saffron robes whilst offering prayers to the neighbor’s cow. That some foolish apostates can claim all the mumbo-jumbo about additional scriptures and magic underwear doesn’t automatically preclude Mitt Romney’s terrible sect from ever being considered as Christian just goes to show the appalling dearth of Sound Biblical Doctrine in these wicked liberal times.

Indeed, I know for a fact that some misguided teachers were in the past few days going so far as to claim a belief in Joseph Smith’s ludicrous false gospel is compatible with the Holy Thirty-nine Articles and historical creeds. Quite naturally, of course, none of that sort of nonsense was ever “taught” here, and it is with great pride that I can say with my hand on my heart that unlike certain Baptists nobody heard me turning a blind eye to the crass heterodoxy of Mormon “theology” just because like any True Conservative I wanted to save America from Obama’s diabolical communist lies. Like that the creation of all people as equal is some kind of “self evident truth”. Or, even more satanically, that life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are unalienable rights endowed to all by their Creator – when any student of the Bible knows such things must be exclusively reserved for those able to afford treatment in the most expensive health-care system in the world.

That so-called Clergy could turn a blind eye to Romney’s utterly unbiblical false gospel is in reality just further proof of something I’ve always said – people today don’t read the Bible correctly”. If they did, for example, the first time Romney had voiced his belief in the core Mormon assertion that the resurrected Jesus physically visited north-eastern America they’d have known to not pay another moment’s attention to his presidential aspirations. Even the most cursory reading of the Gospels puts paid once and for all to any possibility of such a ludicrous thing happening: how can anyone who knows the Bible even begin to imagine Jesus visiting somewhere people voted for Obama?

Similarly, I know for a fact that in the lead-up to what is unquestionably an international disaster some wolves in sheep’s clothing (undoubtedly Episcopalians) were citing Philippians 4:4 in an entirely misguided attempt to urge their congregations to rejoice in anticipation of what they believed would be an unqualified victory for the man whom I had been warning along would prove a heretical failure. This, My Beloved Sinners, is exaclty the sort heresy we can all expect when Ministers cease to obey the important principle of only ever interpreting Scripture in the light of Scripture.

Thus while it is indeed quite true St. Paul exhorted his readers to “rejoice” – an odd choice of word here on account of it’s archaic French origin, and one which Wiktionary makes quite clear carries a variety of meanings, the appropriate one of which in this context (since it’s St. Paul writing, and we know he never thought about anything other than sex) is “To have (someone) as a lover or spouse; to enjoy sexually.” (No, I really haven’t made that one up: click the link if you don’t believe me!).

As clearer and wiser Teachers of Truth like myself said throughout the lead-up to this national tragedy, and the one which you all know I stood as a fearless lone voice proclaiming, was that our prevailing emotion should be one of sorrow. John 11:35 indisputably states that “Jesus wept”, and since Christians are called to be like Jesus (except for the bits about Him speaking to women as equals, associating with sinners, poor people, unbelievers, foreigners, and other riff-raff, and standing up for someone who’s sexuality had gotten them into a whole mess of troube) there can be no doubt that those would follow Jesus are under a Scriptural Imperative to walk around sobbing till rivers of tears flow down their cheeks, staining their modest-but-tastefull cotton-polyester décolletage.

Rest assured that there’ll be nothing but Christ-like grief at my Church for the next four years. Or at least until I find someone gullible enough to buy all the Mormon Tabernacle Choir recordings we stockpiled as part of a planned training course for those aspiring to careers as Washington lobbyists. Now perhaps Consuella still has the number of the
suckerastute business man who purchased all the “Palin 2012” bumper stickers we printed a few years back…

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

PS. Spare a thought also, if you will, for John Kubik, an attendee at Romney's Boston election night party, whose 15 minutes of fame has just passed in the form of a mention in The New York Times. When asked how he felt, Mr. Kubik, who comes from Orlando, Florida, replied “Horrible. I’ve despised Obama from the election. He’s an arrogant Communist.”

Guess it's downhill from here for John... but at least he's not letting reality get in the way of some really funny hyperbole.

Don't worry: vote happy.

Not too much longer to wait now, and America will once more have a born-again Bible-believing Orthodox Conservative President in the White House. Certainly I know Miserable Liberals like little Matt Kennedy are predicting the worst, but that just stems back to the same problem Liberals have with everything - they just don’t read the Scriptures correctly. Phillipians 4:4, for example, makes it clear that Christians are to “Rejoice in the Lord always.” That’s right – it says “Rejoice”. Not mope around like Donald Trump’s hairstyle in a sauna, but “Rejoice”. Which last time I looked at Wiktionary means something along the lines of “Be happy.” Although it also says the word is derived from French, so I’m not too sure why Paul was using it, or how God could have considered it appropriate for his Sinless Bible which died on the cross to save Us, but let’s leave that for another time just now.

So, having established that true Christians are called to rejoice, we must also remember that God has also promised to ”keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast” – a passage which unquestionably applies to me, and quite possibly you also providing you sincerely believe as I do. And let’s face it: how could Righteous Christians possibly rejoice if they knew Obamacare - which is in sharp contrast to everything a Clergyman who makes a fortune on the side by contracting to the County for pauper’s funerals stands for – wasn’t going to be repealed by the next administration? How could God keep a man of My Righteousness “in perfect peace” if I knew that poor people will continue receiving life-prolonging medical care they can’t possibly afford? Or what about the fortune I accumulated through buying up properties seized as result of the former owners’ inability to pay their hospital bills? God knows full well that medical debts used to account for 62% of all U.S. personal bankruptcies (you’d better believe I’ve reminded Him of this at every Parish prayer meeting), so it’s not as if He can just claim to have forgotten the importance of ensuring a continued supply of bargains for Doctrinally-sound Believers blessed with the capacity to take advantage of others’ misfortune.

No, My Beloved Sinners, I refuse to believe that god’s Word would personally instruct Me to be happy if this sort of outrage was just around the corner. Call me old-fashioned, but if America’s founding fathers had wanted us to enjoy a fair and equitable health system they’d have called us Canada. Or New Zealand, Great Britain, Switzerland, Sweden, Germany, Denmark, Australia, Finland, Holland, Belgium, Lichtenstein or one of those other god-forsaken hell-holes not enjoying an infant mortality rate somewhere in the middle of a whole lot of nations with names ending in “stan”. Which why you can all be sure that come this Tuesday I’ll be proudly voting for Romney as many times as I can get away with.

Nor do I want any nit-picking so-called “Christians” sending me any more emails about Mitt “not really being one of us” on account of his Mormon inclinations. I’ve conducted no small amount of research on this topic, and can categorically state that these days the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is 100% doctrinally sound. Certainly I’ll agree that its teachings differ a tiny bit to those of denominations not convinced that after His resurrection Jesus spent a little chill-out time in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and upstate New York, but any unbiased Bible-believer will have to agree that these amount to nothing more than theological minutiae: Mormons have additional scriptures, reject the Trinity, practice baptism of the dead, claim special underwear brings one closer to God (and no, Beloved Sinners the said undergarments are emphatically not made of latex, PVC, or leather. Nor satin, naugahyde or fun-fur), and advocate a Christology which in more forgiving times normally resulted in proponents being burnt at the stake – all mere trivia in comparison to the meat at the heart of Christian Orthodoxy.

Indeed; when it comes to the theological rubber hitting consortium-owned highway Billy Graham is completely justified in giving the Biblical all clear to Joseph Smiths most talented spiritual progeny since the Osmonds. After all, as a Mormon Romney doesn’t like homos, so he can obviously say the 39 Articles and any of the historical creeds without crossing his fingers. He’s part of a church with more Bishops (all of whom have penises) than a convention of schismatic Anglicans (so there’s nothing heterodox about his ecclesiology), and which takes tithing so seriously it makes Pentecostals look laid-back about money. Nor should we ever forget that as a Mormon Mitt Romney brings the weight of his church’s history to the fight for traditional marriage.

None of which must for a moment, of course, be construed as implying Mormons are saved. Obviously they can’t be – what kind of a place does anyone think Heaven would be if they let people who won’t drink beer and coffee? Yet it’s more than just his religion that makes Romney any Orthodox Christian’s only choice: it’s also his money.

That’s right: for too long the only countries with leaders stashing away millions in Swiss bank accounts and the Cayman Islands have been places like Iraq, Libya, and African nations so psychotic not even GAFCON bishops appreciate them being mentioned. Whilst Haiti’s Duvaliers and Panama’s Noriega were busy hiding fortunes, America’s leaders were doing nothing more impressive than bungling hotel break-ins or leaving stains on an intern’s now famous blue dress. With this kind of inattention to detail on the part of our Presidents is it any wonder the U.S. is now in only fourth place on the list of countries which execute people? (Although you’ll be glad to know America does still lead the world when it comes to incarcerating citizens, which not only proves how well the war on drugs is working, but also how successful a century of fundamentalism has been when it comes to transforming the hearts and lives of ordinary Americans.) But now with Mitt Romney having been sent to us by god (or at least someone qualified to give His more outspoken representatives advice on tax-avoidance) America will have a leader whose fascinating personal finances are every bit as inspiring as anything Gaddafi ever came up with.

And if that doesn’t get you out to vote on Tuesday not even I can do anything to redeem your seared conscience.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Storms are just passing wind.

To be perfectly honest I’ve never liked the name “Sandy”. This is unfortunate, since I’ve known some very fine people indeed who are called that, and on one occasion was even obliged to Baptize an extraordinarily lovely child with this name. This required me to feign a coughing fit at the appropriately crucial liturgical moment, wherein I sotto voce substituted the first alternative to come into my head. That just happened to be “Sandinista” – something which may cause a few awful moments in the Kingdon to come given in that glorious place we shall all be known by our true names in the faith, and her parents were dedicated supporters of Reagan.

Perhaps this perfectly rational aversion has its origins in a series of awkward experiences as a child with a swimming teacher of that name. A tall blonde of Scandinavian descent, he had the personality of one of those little metal tools Ikea supply with things that come packed flat in cardboard, with the intelligence of lutefisk. And he refused to comprehend that as one destined to lead the world in Doctrinal Righteousness there was simply no point in my wasting time struggling with his aquatic pedagogy, especially given it was only a matter of time before My Faith enabled me to stroll with confidence upon the waters of his chlorine-drenched domain. In the end things got so bad that my dear old mother had to come and see him after class: by the grace of god she’d forgotten her handgun at home, so we were able to make it look like accidental drowning and nobody was ever any the wiser. Although the next teacher did always treat me with a degree of respect that couldn’t help but make you wonder.

Or, on the other hand, it might be a subliminal reaction to that terrible television show “Flipper”. Most people are aware the son’s name was Sandy – but what they don’t know was that his best friend and diabolical cetacean familiar was actually a female pretending to be a male! That’s right, My Beloved Sinners, the whole show was really a satanic plot to subvert the natural order of creation: what we all thought was this lovely animal made by god to get caught in tuna nets when not rescuing Florida children from an endless collection of criminals (who, curiously given the location, never once included cocaine smugglers) was in fact preconditioning an entire generation to accept the ordination of women. Dismiss as "coincidence" if you wish that this series ran parallel with the heyday of Robinson's "Honest to God" - but no Real Christian is fooled.

Either way, as soon as I learned the name of this terrible storm I knew things were going to get nasty. Now as sure as you can say worse things can happen in Atlantic City than card-counting, my prescient foresight has proven correct once again - surely it’s now got to be only a matter of time before I one day get it right on a well priced outsider at Saratoga). In response to which I must now do what every Great Man of the Cloth is called to do for god’s people in times of fear, despair, and suffering. That’s right: I’ve got to bring you all a three-hour exegetical exposition on the role of limited atonement in St. Paul’s Epistle to the Colossians.

Although I must confess this might not be possible right now on account of the fact that I know many of you are experiencing power outages, and lack sufficient righteousness to have your own Curate to pedal a generator to maintain a satellite internet connection. Indeed, I am so pastorally sensitive that I am even aware many of you don’t even posses a schismatic bishop to whip the Curate should he begin to grow weary (although we all know my fellow Gafconeers are doing everything they can to resolve that shortage, and I’ve heard rumours quite a few ambitious South Carolinians have been downloading the purple pages of online vestment suppliers in anticipation of what they hope might be in the mess down there for them). Consequentially I’m aware, much as you would in this hour of destruction be comforted by a lengthy technical diatribe explaining why god so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son to damn those predestined to not agree with Me, that this might not be quite the most appropriate time for you to all appreciate the Pearls I'm called to cast before swine.

Thus you’re all just going to have to content yourselves with a quick (it’s got to be quick – even the lashing isn’t working anymore, and it looks like Evangelical Eric is at any moment going faint) assurance of my deep concern. Do your best to keep smiling, and never forget that people in California pay big money to eat in places where everything tastes of seaweed.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

PS. The wicked troublemaker who channels this offensive assault on decent people everywhere would also like to let everyone affected by the storm to know that the hearts and prayers of ‘St. Onuphrius’ are with you – God keep you safe, and bring you comfort, shelter, and peace. Blessings all, and never forget the promise that after wind and rain the sun will always come out once again. Take care, ok?

Mourdock's Mentor.

While it’s no secret that I am admired by millions of Sinners around the world (and especially so by Jensen-addled young men – click here and read the comments to feel the love expressed by a pair of undergraduates who serve as splendid examples of the GAFCON vision for the Church you call home), few people can comprehend the pressures involved in being Orthodox Christianity’s Most Doctrinally Sound Leader. Of course I realize that this come a surprise to those sufficiently godly to believe recognize My Unique Gifts as a Teacher, but there are quite literally thousands of persons who, believing themselves equipped with the appropriate genitalia for leadership, aspire to assume the mantle which the spirit and a whole lot of back-stabbing have quite rightfully declared is mine.

Still, as the incumbent of St. Catamite’s, the local Roman franchise, is forever saying about Forward in Faith, imitation is the greatest form of flattery. So when I hear some veritable schoolboy in the Faith such as little David Virtue, or the Primates of peaceful Christian nations like Uganda and Nigeria, stealing what Consuella in a fascinating example of cultural syncretism calls my “shtick”, I just smile and remember that these pathetic-but-cute reflections of myself are but a testimony to the power of skills as an evangelist - Matthew 23:15 not withstanding. Nor is this role as Icon-Mentor limited to a purely religious sphere. Many of those with a vocation towards a lesser branch of politics, that of the secular sphere, also carefully strive to emulate my example: in evidence I need offer but one word: Rick Santorum. (Yes, I am well aware that’s actually two words, but I’d hate for any junior clergy seeking enlightenment upon the Parish office computer to Google the latter on its own.)

Or, for those inclined towards a missionary position and interested in the politics of nonChristian lands: do you really think that without a Conservative Biblical Christian role-model we’d have seen Tony Blair embrace Rupert Murdoch in a realization of how Murdoch’s ethics and integrity should epitomize what a party representing workers stands for? Especially given it was through efforts of people like those whose lives were destroyed by Mr. Murdoch that little Tony Blair achieved power.

Nevertheless, when news reached me this week that Republican Senate candidate Richard Mourdock (I. Will. Not. Play. With. The. Spelling. Of. His. Name.) had made a statement to the effect that women conceiving as a result of unwanted and illegal intercourse should carry such fetuses to full term on account of their existence being a gift from God I couldn’t help but feeling peeved. And not just because some jumped-up treasurer from Indiana let my beloved GOP’s cat out of the bag before a week come Tuesday, after which it’ll be too late for anyone to do anything about the carpetbaggers they’ve been fooled into electing. No: to be perfectly honest (Are Conservative Bible-believing Leaders ever anything else? (Please don’t think of Mark Lawrence when you answer that.) – it’s because Mitt Romney’s latest spokesperson for women gave me no credit for the logic behind his new brilliant strategy for winning the votes of those without the private bits needed to lead others in proclaiming Jesus’ message of salvation, justice, and equality.

After all, I have for years been telling the manager of our local mall that shoplifting is actually a gift from god on account of the way it helps rotate stock. It was me who first started teaching those missing a leg as a result of an intoxicated driver crashing into them that their “disability” is really a blessing on account of the insight they’ve gained into hopping. And it is moir who is always telling parents to stop complaining about kiddie-fiddlers, and to start giving appreciating god’s gift of unlimited free child minding.

Sure little Candidate Mourdock might have taken things further than I (or any other senior Republican adviser) would normally do when not surrounded by people who say “yes” all the time, but his logic was mine, and mine alone. And giving me a little credit would have been the courteous thing to do. Not to mention what it would have done for my Google ranking.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina ...

... somehow I don't think Fred & Ethel Mertz had poor, poor +Mark Lawrence in mind when they performed this adenoidal classic at the Washington Mayflower Hotel: mind you the mayo really has curdled down in Charleston since those halcyon days, hasn’t it My Beloved Sinners? For those of you unaware of the latest development in the sorry, sorry tale of what happens when a Bishop proves to have taken his vows with his fingers crossed I recommend getting up to speed by going here immediately. Mind you, I’ve always said +-Lawrence and I have more in common than might first meet the eye, and not just because no one’s ever seen the two of us in the same photograph. There’s a curious similarity between the mess in which he’s currently managed to land himself and an incident in my own inspiring journey with god. Let me explain:

As a younger man, prior to the spirit’s recognition of my undeniable and inherent gifts as a Bible Teacher and Doctrinal Leader, I enjoyed – as you’d expect – a highly distinguished military career. Many is the sermon in which I’ve covered over a lack of preparation with thrilling anecdotes of the bravery I displayed in defence of My Country, although in +-Mark’s case the uncanny parallel between us relates to a different aspect of my courageous service; namely the small matter of my dishonourable discharge.

In order to understand you’ll first have to pay attention while I explain what things were like in Korea during early ’52. God-forsaken Commies were poised to destroy everything Christians held sacred, and field hospitals like the 4077th were utterly bereft of the Exegetical Expository Bible Teaching so crucial for the preservation of life. Everywhere you looked young Korean girls were dying from thermo-mammarial myocardial infarction simply for want of enough twinky Australian ex-gay pseudo-therapists to warm them, and with spineless red liberals like Senator Joe McCarthy pulling all the strings in the White House my call for a moderate response involving uncontained nuclear warfare went unheeded.

It was then that, in the way that will now be so familiar to all of you Sinners sitting faithfully at my feet, inspiration placed her hand on my wise and fearless shoulders, and I realized the solution lay not in bloodshed, but in Conversion. Rather than kill all the Commies (as entertaining as that might sound) what we needed to do was introduce them to the joys and freedom of Llissez-faire capitalism. That way rather than wasting all their energy doing the evil things Commies call fun, like organizing gymnastic displays in praise of the Beloved Leader, they could start engaging in righteousness-nurturing Christian activities, like inventing junk bonds, or selling Florida swamp-land to trusting retirees.

Yet my senior officers saw things differently. Rather than heed my brilliant advice, they told me to “follow orders”. That’s right, My Beloved Sinners, they actually believed that being part of a hierarchical organization involved something called a “chain of command”, and that having sworn to serve and obey with loyalty and respect I was in someway bound to take my vow seriously! Exactly like the apostate TEC have unjustly been expecting +-Lawrence to respect those to whom he promised obedience!!!!

What follows in my inspiring journey of faith is something of which only those laboring under the delusion that a man of Doctrinal Inerrancy is answerable to anything other than himself and his own preconceptions could fail to respect. Like Bishop Mark, when faced with the choice between keeping my word and doing what I really wanted to, I took the only option available to a Conservative Leader: I did what I felt like. Which in this instance involved teaching the North Koreans an important lesson about Capitalism and the Free Market by selling them armaments and military secrets –a lesson which a few legalist apostate liberals in the Pentagon had the temerity to label “high treason”, but which Orthodox South Carolinians and their fan base will instantly recognize as my having fearlessly followed a higher authority of my own inspired invention.

What I find most charming, however, about +-Lawrence’s move is the insistence his departure from the Episcopal Church automatically means everyone else in South Carolina – both clergy and laity – have also left. Even though it’s patently obvious not all of them agree with him. It reminds me of something I once taught a much more enlightened commanding officer of mine to say during a much earlier stage of my service: “L'État, c'est moi”. Although in Bishop Lawrence’s case I’m more than a little worried that he actually believes it.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

They’re not drug cheats – they’re just naturally hairy.

Truly, truly I say unto you, My Beloved Sinners: isn’t the current scandal involving Lance Armstrong and elite cycling simply terrible? Mind you, I’ve always said God should have included something in the Bible about never trusting anyone who makes a career out of wearing lycra. Which is not to suggest there is anything wrong with that delightful fabric per se: I myself possess a lovely lycra alb/chasuble combi-set which parishioners seeking my favor are always telling me looks most becoming. It’s just that – as any of those utterly unambitious men shortlisted for the position of Archbishop of Canterbury will tell you - there’s a vast gulf between doing something professionally, and doing it because of one’s vocation. Which is why we should all trust them completely as they each make the customary claim to have absolutely no aspirations concerning the fanciest gazebo in Lambeth.

Still, watching the latest debate between that fine young Orthodox Conservative Christian who is going to be the Next President of the Only True Christian Nation (with the exception of Nigeria, Uganda, Kenya and wherever it is that little “Bishop” Chuck Murphy is claiming canonical residence this week) and that other fellow who probably isn’t even an American made me wonder if all this attention on young men with an extraordinary predilection for sitting on the hard little saddle of a bicycle isn’t somewhat misplaced. I mean for goodness sake: the Tour de France involves rushing around France for twenty-three days without so much as once dropping by some nice little place with a few Michelin stars for a modest repast involving goose fat and a few dozen bottles of Château Mouton Rothschild, so expecting any fine square-jawed American boy to cope without a little something special spinning through his veins is, as far as I’m concerned, simply unBiblical.

No, if society wants to get serious about drug cheats and blood-doping we need to impose mandatory testing in those places where there obviously is a problem. After all, have you ever witnessed what goes on in a joint session of Congress? Don’t anybody dare try and tell me that all the testosterone flying around in there is natural: I’ve watched enough Sylvester Stallone movies to recognize ‘roid rage when I see it. Just think how the ratio of posturing to accomplishment would change if our leaders were all required to submit a little jar of their finest and freshest for analysis each morning.

Although my one concern is that having imposed the same standard upon those holding the highest office in the land as is expected of those who do something really important for a job, like rolling around in a big sweaty group behind someone wearing a yellow jersey, people might then get the idea of expanding the testing regime to those leading our Churches. Not, of course, that a clean-living Doctrinal Athlete like myself has anything to worry about, but I can’t say that there aren't doubts about some of my brethren at the cutting edge of the Glorious Realignment. Which mustn’t for a moment be taken as implying ++Rowan and -Bobby’s eyebrows are merely a side-effect of something purchased from a 380lb bodybuilder with prosthetic testicles who was once placed 3rd runner-up in the Mr. Olympia finals. It’s just that it’d probably be better for everyone if we didn’t know for sure.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

September 11, 2012 : No show today.

What can be said about that terrible September day in 2001 that hasn’t already been said a thousand times before? Probably nothing, but some things are worth saying again.

Even though the demands of life have been such that donning my Father Christian Troll persona has of late become a luxury for which I can all too rarely find time, furious emails for him still arrive with monotonous regularity. Invariably the purported cause of this rage is my having mocked some pompous buffoon whom the sender considers a religious leader of great authority, and invariably my reply – in which I always try to as gently as possible explain that following Christ doesn’t demand total acceptance of their local village big-man’s heretical nastiness – achieves little other angering them further.

Such is the nature of fundamentalism. Love as anarchic as the Incarnation is too dangerous a wonder to risk contemplating when one suffers from the delusion that ecclesiastical power (regardless of form, flavour, or funny-hat shape) is of any true consequence. Questioning those who profit from your ideological and/or theological framework is never easy when you also believe that framework offers the only authentic relationship with to God: the coward’s response has always to been start shouting and demand silence from the jester. And if that silence comes at the cost of someone’s throat, then so be it: “There’s always bound to be a few bystanders struck by chips when you’re clearing a forest” as party-members said at the start of the Stalinist purges. Until they were themselves purged.

The events of one terrible day in 2001 have forever changed our world: just because this has been said so many times that it’s become a cliché doesn’t make it any the less true. Yet in another way the foul actions of a few gullible young men with box cutters changed very little: yes, they cut short the lives of a great many people who were dearly loved by those close to them, but that was all they accomplished of any significance. And even that – the taking of life – wasn’t anything fundamentalists haven’t been accomplishing for millennia. Because that’s all fundamentalism ever does – kill people.

Mostly the slaughter is more subtle and drawn out than the crash of hijacked aircraft: it’s the hellish torture inherent to a lifetime of submission to an abusive husband, or the brutal bashing of a young homosexual man, or the forced rape of a young lesbian, or the burning of child witches, or maybe just the quiet suicide of yet another reject who just couldn’t cope with their sect’s theology of hatred. It’s in the denial of affordable health care, in the refusal of access to contraception, and in the opposition to education. And it’s always justified by quoting a text written in a very different place and time in such a way as to preclude any other interpretation of the passage in question. Which, incidentally, but well worth mentioning, also happens to be the means by which Jesus' crucifixion was deemed just and legal by those braying for his death 2,000 years ago.

Not, of course that these murderers normally dance in celebration like the Wahabist psychopaths did while news of their colleagues' crime spread across the world. Most fundamentalists lack such transparency, and seek to hide the horrors in their wake behind an endless claim of innocence. While in their next breath always further advocating the mechanisms by which these deaths have become systemic. Or blogging about the need for order in the face of a clash of cultures. And then berating the victims for “their choice of lifestyle”.

It's highly likely that you, like me, will never forget where you were and what you were doing when news of what was happening in Lower Manhattan, Arlington County, Virginia, and a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Please also don't ever forget that these people died for the same reason as countless others through history: because a few evil old men presumed to define Godliness, and few more foolish young people believed them. I write here as a way of helping myself and others cope with these false prophets and their followers by laughing at them, but sometimes, just sometimes, it's important to mourn, and to be serious. For me today is such a day, and I'm honored that you've taken time to share my feelings by reading this.

Thank you.

And for those disappointed that today hasn't provided another opportunity to send spittle-flecked emails of complaint about my lack of respect for whichever fraudulent religious leader it is you happen to respect I've only one thing to say:
I'm not actually Father Christian, but I fear you could say that we have over the past four years become intimately related, and I promise he'll be back very soon. And if you pay close attention you might someday realize that he really does teach the Bible. Although not ever, I truly pray, in the way to which you are accustomed.

Love means never saying you won't submit. (Men not included)

It was a quarter to three in the morning, and although most of the effects of Bishop Quinine’s new herbal tea had worn off, I was still unable to sleep. Unwilling to succumb to the temptation to once again visit the weird side of YouTube (videos of abscess drainage and impacted ear-wax removal have their charms, but even a man of my relentless curiosity has limits), I decided to instead drop by Facebook and see what’s been happening in the lives of My Beloved Sinners around this disgraceful and wicked planet.

No sooner had Mr. Gates’ dear old browser loaded the familiar white-on-blue “f” than my wise and saintly eyes were confronted caught by a couple of notifications concerning developments in Mordor. Having already decided to pass on YouTube’s less palatable delicacies, I was quite naturally unsure if my constitution was up to the latest news from the Diocese that time (not to mention the Holy Spirit, compassion, grace, and legislation against inbreeding) forgot. Yet like what may have once happened to me when watching those clips an interesting New Delhi medico posts of himself extracting blackheads (Google it if you must disbelieve me, but not even I can bring myself to include a link*), once I’d started clicking it was impossible to turn back.

That’s because, Beloved Evildoers, having converted every Antipodean man, woman, child, and marsupial, not to mention having rewarded every last relative capable of saying the word “Bible” with lucrative employment at his parishioners’ expense, little Archbishop Jensen has now turned his attention to correcting the mistakes made by Cranmer and whoever else was responsible for the foundations of today’s Anglican wedding liturgy (St. Paul? Jesus? Bobby Duncan?). Whereas our foolish forbears neglected to emphasis strongly enough that a Biblical Christian man’s most precious belonging is his wife, marriage Jensen-style will from now on put an end to the confusion by requiring the person-without-a-penis to solemnly vow that they will henceforth submit to their god-given owner.

Not, of course, that this is anyway to be taken as giving licence for the man to abuse or otherwise disrespect his treasured new chattel. Quite the contrary, as little Peter Jensen subsequently made clear in a piece so profound in its logic that I know of three used-car sales managers and a mid-level Amway marketer all now clamouring for him address training seminars on the subject of “Intellectual Honesty: Overrated or just Unnecessary”, the real burden of responsibility created by this exciting liturgical innovation falls upon the man. That’s because, according to the Bishop of Biblical Discernment who just happened to lose $160 million of his faithfuls’ hard-earned, along with the authority, power, and right to make the final call with regards to what’s for dinner and on T.V. afforded by the wife’s promise to submit comes the obligation for the husband to sacrifice himself for her in the same way that Jesus sacrificed Himself for the church.

Forget liberal notions of two people being drawn together to share the vagaries of life as one: this is indeed a bold call for young Anglican Conservatives to enter into a binding agreement in which one party clearly has the upper hand, whilst the other must dutifully assume whatever position is required of them. As such it clearly mirrors the sacred values enshrined in any Florida time-share contract, or something Everhome/Fannie Mae try getting away with. And please let’s not have any nonsense about marriage being a rewarding and mutually empowering relationship: the definitive marital role model for today’s husband must involve indescribable agony, during the course of which he should feel compelled call out “My God, my God – Why have you forsaken me?” (The woman, on the other hand, should remain silent. Later, when they’re in private – and preferably when there are no sticks or sharp objects nearby – she can submissively ask her husband to explain what was distressing him. Who is in turn perfectly free to let her wait until the next world for an answer.)

Honestly: if the godless Episcopalian and Church of England leaders would only display this kind of witness then they too might be able to boast of evangelism campaigns that brought a reduction in congregation sizes whilst simultaneously lining the pockets of a company owned by members of the Archbishop’s family. They too might reap the rewards of seeing the Gospel be made a byword for oppression and misogyny. And they too might experience what it feels like to know Christians around the world are shaking their heads and saying “Next time I think I’ll stick with weird side of YouTube.”

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

*On second thoughts, a marvellous piece on this sub-continental Marcus Welby’s site entitled “8 reasons why you should stop masturbation” is just too good not share. And please don’t be misled by the fact that his domain name is wacky5.com - as he explains elsewhere on this veritable goldmine of information (anyone else ever felt an urge to learn how to practice basic suturing techniques?), wacky actually stands for Welfare Association of Clinicians and Keen Youths. Which I’m sure we’d have all guessed had we just thought about it for long enough.)

Legitimate Stupidity

As every one of the millions of sinners blessed by My Ministry will testify, I am a patient man, and it takes a great deal to make me angry. Little things which could quite justifiably incite homicidal responses in Bible Believers less self-controlled than myself – such as a woman speaking aloud in Church, or an evolutionist being permitted to attend college –generally provoke in me a more measured reaction. Quite naturally I’ll still be the first to stand up for the truth that such blasphemies can only be atoned for by the shedding of blood (namely that of the perpetrator and their immediate family), but all these years as the World’s Leading Doctrinal Warrior have taught me the importance of timing. Sometimes it’s best to contain one’s anger, and faithfully wait upon the spirit for guidance as to the appropriate moment to vent one’s righteous rage. (And, by the way, it’s truly remarkable how often that moment coincides with a time when nobody’s looking…)

Even so, I’m not going to make any secret of my fury with the godless liberal media currently hounding Missouri congressman and would-be senator Todd Akin for simply stating what any Conservative Preacher knows is true: that the bodies of that half of the population without the kind of genitalia necessary for Church Leadership are capable of all sorts of mysterious things, including that “If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”. Although I’ve got to admit that’s one particular biological fact I’ve not before encountered during the course of my dilligent socio-scriptural internet research – I dare say that in Missouri young people’s fellowship talks on boy-girl relations must be a little more explicit than they are here in Ichabod Springs.

Indeed, so widespread has been the attack upon Congressman Akin that even Biblically Christian media like CNN and Fox “News” have been making mountains out of what scarcely qualifies as a molehill. As far as I’m concerned little Tod’s only mistake was that of letting the kind of thing quite commonly said within the corridors of Conservative ecclesiastic power be heard in a domain where people unafraid of thinking for themselves could grab it and run. Which is exactly what the Bible talks about when it cautions against casting one’s swine before pearls. Or something like that.

One humorous thing to come out of all this, however, (or at least it would be humorous were I as a Leading Conservative capable of laughing – as anyone who’s ever read little David Virtue’s “satire” pages will have realized, mirth isn’t an emotion greatly prized in my corner of Christendom) the jeers currently echoing from the mouths of apostates around the world actually reveal how little they truly know. Take, for example, the email I keep receiving which asks “Can the Tea Party really get any dumber than this?” As someone who’s been intimately associated (in a strictly Biblical sense, of course) with a great many Tea Party luminaries I can personally assure every siongle one of the mocking liberals that they really haven’t seen anything yet. After all: let’s not forget how many Tea Partygoers were home schooled – need I say any more?

Nevertheless, there is just one small correction I’d like to make to Congressman Akin’s quintessentially modern-Republican assertion: the poor man appears a little challenged with regard to his theo-linguistic accuracy. In Conservative Theological terms what he calls “legitimate rape” is more accurately termed ”a Deuteronomic Marriage Proposal”. As anyone who’s ever read the work of Bruce Ware and his cohorts at The Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood will know, “legitimate rape” is actually just another way referring to Complementarian Marriage.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

P.S. While we’re speaking of Complementarians I’d like to reassure the troubled individual who’s been sending delightfully misspelt warnings concerning my post on the lovely David Ould that he’s completely misunderstood me: I’ve always maintained the Church needs more serial liars in pulpits, and it grieves me deeply that the dishonest little Anglo-Austrian-Australian appears to have still not found a parish willing to subject itself to the unique perspectives on integrity and truth which Our Favorite Deacon has to offer.

Further to which, I’d like to thank the Beloved Sinner from Mordor who sent the very funny account of Dobby unwittingly making a life-long enemy of someone highly influential in that part of the world who just happens to be called “Jensen”. You’re quite right: it is too libellous to be posted here, but thank you for making the halls of St. Onuphrius’ echo with laughter. It does indeed explain a great deal concerning the boy’s current predicament.

Thank you also to the other Beloved Sinner who drew this post to my attention. Titled ”Lying Bastard”, I’ll admit it falls short of really outlining the qualities David Ould can offer a potential employer, but it nonetheless offers a good summary of why I have no qualms about paying so much attention to the testosteronically litigious Deacon from Down-Under. If he didn’t exist I’d have had to make him up.

Games People Play

Honestly, My Beloved Sinners, is there any other event in Biblical Christianity’s calendar as inspiring as the Olympic Games? The nationalism, the steroid stimulated loins clad in lycra, and more corrupt old men flying first class than a conference of Conservative Bishops – the Olympics truly are a foretaste of what the world will be like when Jesus finally gets around to coming back and tossing (lovingly, of course) everyone who doesn’t agree with my theology into the Lake of Fire.

Mind you, as an Olympic Gold Medallist myself (Live Pigeon Shooting – Paris 1900) I quite naturally have a special interest in The Olympic Movement, and the following picture of me raising my right in celebration of fascism’s only military victory with the definitive Olympic junketer, His Excellency Juan Antonio Samaranch, will always occupy a place of pride on the St. Onuphrius’ sanctuary wall. (I’m obviously the extraordinarily handsome clergyman in dark glasses on the far right – as a symbolic testimony to the purity of both my own and Olympic ideals I’m wearing a white clerical shirt instead of my more customary shade of practical duck-egg blue.)

Sadly, however, fewer and fewer of today’s athletes share my unequalled respect for Sacred Olympic values. Not only do the modern games permit women competitors, but in a sharp and tragic contrast to the Bible-believing days of Ancient Greece, contestants no longer participate nude. And I have it on good authority that being of a homosexualist persuasion – something unheard of in ancient Athens - is these days no bar to entry.

Nor should anyone get me started on the scourge of drugs. I attribute the demise of my own sport to this menace: blasting a pigeon into the hereafter is hardly a challenge when the little beasts are too stoned to fly – even if the resultant mess is nonetheless quite satisfying for someone who takes the Old Testament as literally as I do. That’s why I was so glad to see the opening ceremony’s musical directors were those two young men from Underworld, whose extensive involvement with the famously anti-drug dance/rave culture sends exactly the right message vis-à-vis substance abuse in sport.

Indeed: I’d be in London enjoying the Olympic Spirit myself were it not for the fact that I’m currently right in the middle of fighting to terminate a liberal subterfuge which has the potential to utterly destroy Conservative Christianity. Codenamed “Project Stop-Whining”, I’m not prepared to divulge many of the details here given that I have good reason to believe my homilies are frequently read aloud to not just those who are the product of Evangelical home-schooling, but also to women, so for now let me just say that it involves working in one’s parish with the same dedication and diligence as is expected of anyone in secular employment – a hideously radical notion which could not only render the Anglican Communion Institute completely irrelevant (presuming it isn’t already so), but could even lead to a world in which religious experts like David Ould were obliged to do something morre with their time than obsessively seeking to track down those who dare to laugh at them for being nasty dishonest pharisees.

Nevertheless, I’m proud to say St. Onuphrius’ has not been without representation at this Sacred Biblical Convocation. This past month our own Bishop Quinine has been personally assisting the Chinese team. While he’s had to be a bit secretive about the precise nature of his involvement (Olympic Protocol and all that), I do know he’s been working particularly closely with their swimmers, weight-lifters, and female shot putters (is there any sport as glamorous as shot putting?), and I’m absolutely certain he’s been providing them with the sort of spiritual inspiration that only a faux-bishop can deliver when appropriately remunerated. Nor has he been confining his Ministry to the Chinese: with the Jensenists too broke to provide pastoral care for any fellow Australians not a member of their immediate family Bishop Quinine has been called upon to also provide them with pastoral support – as anyone who read this news report will have immediately recognized.

Which is in itself just one small example of the much broader blessing of Peace and Global Understanding that the Sacred Olympic Movement has brought our depraved and sinful world. Looking through history one simply can’t deny the facts: just look at how an understanding of Olympic Ideals brought peace to Afghanistan, how encountering Olympic tolerance taught China the importance of Tibetan independence, and how that poster of Mark Spitz cured a generation of young men of homosexualist yearnings.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Hell hath no fury...

... like a blackmailing serial-liar ridiculed.

At which point I would like to on the very best of legal advice stress this salient aphorism is utterly bereft of any pertinence to the following comment left several hours ago elsewhere on this site:

"Someone called David Ould has sicked his lawyers onto Dobby, and Dobby has fled. Long live Dobby!"

Once again in response to the very best of legal advice I would also like to categorically claim that I have absolutely no idea of what my correspondent might be talking about. When it comes to accusations of defamation I've always found it fascinating to note how those most eager to defend their reputation are invariably those whose reputation is the least defensible, which renders this whole affair most mysterious indeed.

Nonetheless, as one renowned for the seriousness with he takes his pastoral responsibilities I am, of course and as always, more than happy to discuss this and/or any other matters with those whose hunger for enlightenment leads them to contact me privately.

That said, let me now move on to an entirely unrelated matter of an altogether different nature. It just so happens that a young man rejoicing in the title and name of the Reverend David Ould, who currently serves as a Deacon (or in the quaint ecclesiastical patois compulsory in the Australian Anglican Diocese of Sydney, an "Assistant Minister" - commonly abbreviated to "Ass Minister" for reasons undoubtedly self-evident) at St. Augustines's Anglican Church, Neutral Bay (a.k.a. "Neutral Bay Anglican Church" - a moniker at least half true; an impressive statistic within the context of the sect known elsewhere as "Jensenism") is seeking a new parish.

Even though David Ould hasn't made public his reasons for leaving his current employment, there's bound to be a perfectly good reason as to why his position will be terminated at the end of this year. In fact, I'm sure that if you call him on +612 9953 1830, or +61425 362598, or send an email to david.ould@neutralbayanglican.org.au he'll be only too happy to provide a most entertaining explanation. One which may or may not be entirely dissimilar to any rumors currently spreading fasting than monkeys on ice skates. Although possibly not as funny.

And while there’s hardly any point discussing those reasons here – as the very best of legal advice also made perfectly clear to me – I would none the less like to extend a personal invitation to the members of any parish nomination committee who have courtesy of the Holy Spirit and Google landed here whilst investigating the possibility of David Ould joining their ministry team: you are all more than welcome to contact me to discuss his suitability for the position you have in mind.

Whether you, for example, represent a medium-to-large congregation wishing to downsize by shedding a significant percentage of parishioners; or you are seeking a Minister who considers compulsively Googling his own name as synonymous with “pastoral care”; or you're merely seeking someone not ashamed to do whatever it takes (legal or otherwise) to stop others from laughing at him, I am only to happy to provide a reference outlining the fascinating things I have evidence of little David Ould getting up to – at this point do I need to mention that I have on the very best of legal advice an assurance that truth is a defence against accusations of defamation in both David Ould's jurisdiction and my own?

I’m Father Christian, and I really don’t like Pharisees.

ACNA Exegesis.

If there’s one thing that really cheers an Old Doctrinal Warrior’s heart in the aftermath of the Great Anglican Schism it’s a good “we wuz robbed” gripe. Mind you, My Beloved Sinners, these are rarer than you might think, since the only laments that really press the bossanova button on my organ are those written by former clergy. The cries of laity now alienated from parishes in which they and their families may have worshipped for generations are too often tinged with sadness to make them truly enjoyable, especially since more often than not they’ve only been caught up in this whole mess as a result of obediently following their parish Priest. Indeed, until he got stinging nettles in his surplice about God’s love for homosexualists they quite probably didn’t even know there was a Bishop of New Hampshire, much less care about any predilection His Grace may have towards musicals featuring Barbra Streisand.

On the other hand, the sounds of wailing and gnashing of teeth coming from those who, having stirred up their congregations to quit the Anglican Communion, are now finding that this also means leaving behind all the property belonging to the wicked, godless, apostate institution they quite happily vowed to serve at the time of their ordination a few years previously are another thing altogether. The most prolific practitioner of this esoterically pleasurable literary form, the delightful little Matt Kennedy, will of course be quite familiar to all Faithful Sinners, but it gives me enourmous pleasure to introduce a new star in the disgruntled Firmament of Orthodoxy – Layman David Wilson of freshly invented ACNA parish of Christ the Redeemer in Canonsburg PA.

Indeed; I can’t recommend his masterpiece of the genre, which can be found here, highly enough. While succinct, it still manages to convey a deep sense of disgruntlement at the consequences of actions undertaken entirely at the behest of the author, who in turn manages to deny all responsibility for how things have worked out. While shrouding the entire mess in a deep cloud of dishonesty - everything I’ve always insisted the Anglican Realignment is about!

Although I must note that it appears to contain just one teensy typo: the second paragraph opens with

“The Episcopal Diocese sued for our shirt. We hereby give you our coat. Matthew 5:40.”

That should actually read “The Episcopal Diocese sued for their shirt”. And while we’re at it, the sentence ought probably also be amended to read: “In deep apprehension of the consequences should we do otherwise, we hereby also give you your coat as ordered by the Allegheny Court of Common Pleas in accordance with the United States Constitution.”

I’d also recommend ditching the Matthew 5:40 reference. Like any true Conservative, it’s been a long time since I bothered myself too much with anything in the Gospels, but last time I looked it didn’t seem that Jesus was discussing the return of property to those from whom you’d swiped it. Nor do I recall Him mentioning anything about the owner first needing to sue before Our Lord’s followers should feel any scruples about returning their ill gotten apparel…

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

In which a sinner's questions are answered...

The following comment recently arrived in response to a homily I delivered way back in October 2008. In order than all My Beloved Sinners might share in the blessings of my wise response, I have generously felt called to share the exchange in a post of its own:

I (a female) am currently engaged to my partner (a male) - although we are not planning a religious marriage ceremony, we are going to be planning a 'marriage' ceremony of some kind. My sister and her partner (a female) recently came to visit us and we started discussing the countries where same-sex marriage is currently legally recognised. To my surprise and utter dissapointment, there were only 10 countries in the whole world on this list and the UK is not one of them (correct me if I am wrong). I have recently looked into the UK governments same-sex marriage views and was pleased to read that Nick Clegg thought that " although civil partnerships have been a step forward, until same sex marriage is permitted it is impossible to claim gay and straight couples are treated equally."

My sister and her partner are now engaged and as we are living in a 'democratic society' where the human rights act (1998) states that '[one of] your human rights [is]' 'the right to marry and to start a family' (http://www.direct.gov.uk/en/Governmentcitizensandrights/Yourrightsandresponsibilities/Findoutaboutyourrights/DG_4002951), I was wondering when my sister and her same-sex partner will have the same 'human rights' as myself and my opposite-sex partner in regards to marriage?

I still find it surprising and am saddened by the thought that in 2012, this most basic human right for same-sex couples is being violated. Given your position on marriage, I was wondering where you sit on other human rights? Do you for example, feel that the right to Nationality is applicable only to specific groups? Do you think it is just that the right to a fair trial should be limited only to a certain group, say heterosexuals?

*****

My Dear Sinnerette,

As a Biblical Conservative I always insist people understand that I take the Word of our Saviour St. Paul literally - except, of course, when it comes doing anything inconvenient (not to mention just plain weird), like making vows involving cranial depilation). Consequently when persons of your gender ask questions I usually respond with an instruction that they ask their husband, or whichever other complementarian-with-a-penis owns them. Unless, of course, answering their question will bring sufficient kudos to make it worthwhile contradicting my inviolable convictions – as is the case, for example, when asked questions like “Father Christian Sir, how may I minister to your every need?” Or “Where should I send the keys of the new Ferrari I’ve bought you?”

Now whilst your question clearly falls short of these nobly spiritual examples, and you and the man with whom you intend to become subordinate are shameless about your intention to deprive some Godly Clergyman such as myself the Surplice Fee, Pre-marital counseling charge, Wedding Administration Donation, and Church Premises Usage Offertory (along with the opportunity to further make a fortune in commissions by insisting you only use our authorized florist, photographer, caterer, hair & makeup stylist, wedding cars, and bridal couturier) – all of which comprise an integral part of any genuinely Biblical marriage – I have nonetheless been led by the Generous Righteousness of my heart to answer your questions. No doubt you shall out of gratitude respond appropriately, though you’d better move fast, since summer wedding slots at St. Onuphrius’ are almost all taken, and the Fall weather here in Ichabod Springs can be a little chancy: at that time of year local breezes tend to blow from the direction of the town’s famous pesticide factories, and those brides not going through the motions for the sake of a green card usually become a little upset when blood-red airborne wastes stain their dress and veil. (Nor is releasing doves a wise move: last time someone tried that the entire flock didn’t make it fifty yards before poor little bird cadavers plummeted down upon the happy throng. Fortunately though, the bride and groom came from a long line of Forteans and I was able to convince everybody that what they had just witnessed was an inexplicable omen of unparalleled blessing – thereby earning a further gratuity from the city chamber of commerce, who are always happy to pay a little something to ensure our only major industry continues unimpeded. But I digress…

I’ll begin by addressing your question as to where I “sit on other human rights”. Clearly you have little experience of Biblical Authorities of my renown, but let me be perfectly clear that I have never sat on anyone. Granted, Consuella does from time to time sit on me, but that is totally within the context of a purely Biblical relationship. And there was that one time with Evangelical Eric, but that was at a “Beans ‘n’ Beer” party the Parish held to celebrate one of the Saints’ days, and everyone was sitting on him. Besides; he’s my Curate and I can do with him whatever I like.

Next you ask if I “feel that the right to Nationality is applicable only to specific groups?” That’s a much more complex question, since you fail to say if you are referring to Christian Nations or foreign ones. Obviously only Christians can enjoy the privileges of citizenship in a Christian Nation, since how could an unbeliever ever be expected to understand the joys of paying tithes and listening to interminable expositions of Pauline minutiae? Yet the Scriptures do talk about making foreigners welcome (eg Deut. 10:19 - that’s because Our Loving Book understands how important it is for Christians to have people desperate enough to work for subsistence wages as cab drivers and house maids. Although it’s important to not get carried away here: as any Arizona Conservative will explain, Leviticus 19:34 (“But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be unto you as one born among you…”) should never be taken literally on account of it not being explicitly about homosexuality.

Lastly, you wonder if I think “it is just that the right to a fair trial should be limited only to a certain group” – let’s just be perfectly clear about this: it’s what the Bible thinks which matters. That the Bible just happens to agree with all of my presuppositions has absolutely nothing to do with the way I choose to interpret the Sacred Words dictated from Heaven to Saint King James (or, if you happen to be reading this from within the Diocese of Mordor, to a uniquely profitable business owned by Archbishop Jensen and his family). So, with this in mind, I would urge any Unbeliever to consider 1 Corinthians 6:1-7, which makes it absolutely clear that legal matters are to be resolved not by pagan secular apostate courts, but by the Church Leadership!

Not, of course, that I expect hearing this marvelous news will bring you any comfort, since clearly you, unlike me, are not sufficiently righteous to have been called to enjoy the power and privilege commensurate with the call to serve god’s sinful flock – and even if you were, the fact that you can’t hygienically urinate while standing in any case precludes you and fifty-something percent of the population from enjoying this particular patriarchal perk. But for those of us who made the right choice vis-à-vis our genitalia it’s perfectly straightforward: any legal matter (and I can’t emphasize this strongly enough – the text of Scripture here makes no distinction whatsoever between civil and criminal matters) involving a Christian can only be decided by a suitable Righteous Christian leader. Like me. Which is why, as I keep telling the godless liberals at Inland Revenue, I can with a perfectly clear conscience insist my returns have been ruled acceptable by the highest court in the nation.

Trusting this clears matters up for you, and brightens whatever brief time you have remaining prior to an eternity in the Fires of Hell.

The Rev. Dr. Father Christian Troll,
(I teach the Bible.)

Ahhh - That's Better!!

To be perfectly honest with you, My Beloved Sinners, the past few weeks have seen me feeling rather flat. No, it’s not that Dr. Harrisburg’s ground-breaking Nuclear Psychiatry (literally so – a team of Russian speleologists have yet to reach the bottom of the crevice which opened up beneath his consulting rooms after the last minor incident with the reactor) has ceased to deliver it’s old familiar warming glow: the cause of my despondency was something much greater than mere radioactive molecular realignment can soothe.

That’s right: I’m talking about the Republicans’ cruel, heartless, and utterly apostate decision to dump Rick Santorum from the Presidential Race. If I hadn’t sold my dear old grandmother’s grave to developers seeking land on which to develop cheap condominiums she’d be rolling in her grave if she could see how her once-grand Old Party turned its back upon the chance to teach those liberal Democrats a thing or two with a Santorum-Bachmann ticket. Although since she – my grandmother, that is, not Michelle Bachmann - probably caused the subsidence responsible for killing several residents and a pair of Mormon missionaries when the entranceway collapsed, as well as for the cracks causing the cheap Chinese cladding to shed asbestos fiber across the childrens’ playground, it’s not as if she’s no longer doing her part to uphold Conservative Republican traditions.

Indeed, things became so glum around these parts that not even a delightful missive from little Matt Kennedy, in which our faux-Kenyan (or was he Ugandan? I can no longer keep up with the neoAfricans' latest canonical nationality-du-jour.) most creatively used little Chuck Murphy’s new Congolese best friends forever as an excuse to gossip about the private affairs of former parishioners, was able to lift my spirits. Although it did serve as refreshing reminder that few things are as effective when it comes to enforcing congregational obedience as threatening to blog about matters shared with one in confidence. And having already broken his Ordination Vows, it’s not as little Matt – or any other faux-clergy – remain bound by archaic notions of clerical confidentiality, do they?

So bad, in fact, did things become - and I’m not proud to confess this to you, My Beloved Sinners, but my repentance would be incomplete were I not to be transparent with you all – that I - yes I – the World’s Leading Doctrinal Warrior – fell into the most pernicious and shameful sin which can ever ensnare any Clergyman. That’s right - I begun spending more time ministering to the people of my parish than sitting in front of my computer screen meandering across the intertubes!

All of which just shows how any of us - even a Righteous Man of God such as myself – can in an instant be taken captive by the Prince of Darkness and seduced into sinning in ways they would normally find repugnant. Evil ways, as it brings me great embarrassment to admit, such as visiting those whom one has been called to serve; even caring for them and - please don’t let any children read this, I implore you - showing an interest in their lives. Or - it would probably be best if any ladies present left the room - helping them experience the love of Christ in every area of their lives!!!

No, My Sinners, the depravity into which I fell was beyond description. Yet - and here I urge you to join with me in rejoicing – all has not been lost, and I now stand before you even more richly cloaked in the gown of Conservative Biblical Righteousness than ever before. For my mojo is back once more, my fingers are flying across the keyboard faster than money-lenders at an evangelical prosperity seminar, and my heart is beating faster than a GAFCON primate with a business-class plane ticket.

And the reason for my deliverance, you ask? Well – aside of course, from own inherent superiority and strength when it comes to overcoming that which would destroy a lesser man's Ministry – the cause of this miracle is nothing more than a humble Jensen house-elf. Although in this case one who is not so much Dobby as Kreacher - albeit less handsome and pleasant of personality, but blessed with a breathtaking sense of his own importance, as well as a total inability to refrain from misrepresenting anyone disagreeing with him (if not just simply attributing to them phrases of his own creation). In other words, a young man who epitomizes every value today’s Conservative Christian Schismatics hold dear! But let me explain…

Listlessly trawling through my once familiar Blogospheric haunts I chanced upon a post at the gentle home of Calamity Jane; a Dreadfully Beloved Sinner who writes from beneath the very shadow of Mordor itself. Wherein I discovered the inspiration for my redemption; a young man slavishly in service of the Lords of Mordor - no, not that young man, but one almost just as dishonest, and quite possibly even more self-opinionated. He was demanding Calamity apologize for a post made some weeks previously in which she suggested an undoubtedly intelligent young woman who serves as an advocate for a delightful variant of Our Lord’s Gospel in which women are eternally consigned to a life of subservience and subjection to the obviously superior goals of men might in reality be - albeit just a little stupid. Or at least profoundly and utterly deceived.

Clicking through to Calamity’s original post brought it all back to my weary memory - I had at the time this was first published left a comment of my own. Not of course, because I will ever admit to seeing anything wrong with Jesus’ message of freedom being twisted into something which controls and subjugates others on account of their gender (or any other God-given trait), but because something in the tragedy that was unwittingly apparent in this woman’s attempt at justifying the consequences of her involvement in the cult of Jensenism touched a part of me which I regret to say has yet - much like our favorite ex-gay campaigner’s sexuality - to fully match my public rhetoric.

In short, I found the Jensenette’s cri de cœur indescribably sad, and I left a comment saying as much. Which, as I ought to have expected, incurred the wrath of some hitherto unknown young fundamentalist man. (Like others, I’ve said this before, but how can I resist noting it yet again – isn’t remarkable how the wrathful internet ejaculations of Biblical Orthodoxy nearly always come from young men??!! No Professor Freud, put your hand down please. We don’t need to hear your explanation again.)

And my goodness, what a special item has this young man – who so delights in the name of George Athas that one of his favorite rhetorical devices involves repeatedly introducing himself – proven to be. Follow our edifying exchange for yourself at Liberal Anglicanism in Sydney… Pie in the Sky if you’re so inclined, and share my wonder at the boy’s total disregard for anything not from his own unique perception of reality. It’s like engaging in dialogue with a painting by Dali. Although absolute self-certainty isn't normally associated with surrealism, and his interpersonal skills incline more towards cubism.

No, little George (who was Ordained Deacon in 2006, so naturally knows everything there is to know about parish ministry, despite never appearing to have actually served in a parish of his own, nor legally ministered his church’s Eucharistic Sacraments, is the kind of person who inspired me to establish the vital internet ministry which is GAFCON, and we are all – even me – eternally indebted for reminding me to leap once more into the mighty fray which is virtual Anglicanism. It’s lads like him who make me proud of my role as the World’s Most Biblical Doctrinal Warrior, and as long as we have them you know there’ll always be a need for me.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

P.S. My muse runs a blog of his own: http://withmeagrepowers.wordpress.com. The title, I believe, is intended to be ironic, so it's probably not a good idea to suggest the reference to "Meagre Powers" might in some way refer to his cult's paucity of any of the qualities normally associated with Our Lord. And should any of you get it into your heads to try and interact with him in any way more meaningful than laying prostrate at his feet in meek and complete agreement... well... just don't say your wise old Father Christian didn't warn you...