Wednesday, October 31, 2012

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?

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sandy is a mere hurricane causing temporary disruption. Imagine bearing the moniker "Sydney". Your name would be a watchword for narrow-minded bigotry and hatred - as well as being a laughing-stock among all Christians. Sandy's winds will pass whereas Sydney's will hover like an awful stench.

Turnip Ghost said...

No one was "effected" by the storm, unless you're going to count those born to people trapped together who decided to pass the time by other ways than card games.
And Anonymous is another reason why fewer people every year pay attention to any religious people.

The Rev. Dr. Christian Troll said...

So in addition to all your other charming attributes, little Brad my son, you're also a grammar Nazi...
...people have been killed, homes destroyed, and lives turned upside down, but the real disaster is that I used an "e" instead of an "a".

Nice personality you have there...

The Rev. Dr. Christian Troll said...

Although on further reflection, it is rather flattering to know that at least someone reads my every word so so closely as to pick up on a single misused vowel.

Turnip Ghost said...

And apparently God was watching but did nothing? Either incompetent or helpless or indifferent.

The Rev. Dr. Christian Troll said...

So after all these years of reading this blog you still haven't been able to figure out that I don't really buy into the fundamentalist theology you're questioning here?

Really Brad - you have got to be one of the most persistent dullards of all time.

Turnip Ghost said...

Celebrate your diversity!
If god's as weak as the rest of us, worshipping him is pretty stupid. If you worship him, you must expect something from him that nothing else can accomplish.
Other than that, it's just a form of outdoor relief for humanities grads who enjoy dressing up.

Turnip Ghost said...

The idea that someone could create, or at least arrange the universe, and then not be able to re-direct a storm, is simply too stupid to believe; even religion has to have limits to nonsense.

Brother David said...

I don't know Brad, you are living proof that stupidity has no bounds!

Turnip Ghost said...

We celebrate our diversity by avoiding the question....
Celebrate La Santa Muerte!!!!

The Rev. Dr. Christian Troll said...

No little Brad Evans, you've got it wrong again. We celebrate our diversity by not answering you. If it were anyone else asking those questions we'd all be happy to explain our reasons for continuing to hold faith in the face of injustice and suffering.

In your case, however, we've all long been aware of your inability to engage in any form of reasonable and mutually respectful dialogue. Thus we treat you as the foolish, tedious, homophobic, and not infrequently racist, pest you've time and again proven yourself to be.

Anonymous said...

Many children find much laughter in playing with their pumpkin at Halloween - or Turnip Ghost, as it is also known. Perhaps Brad, being an illuminated pumpkin, might explain what it's like being a kids' plaything.

Turnip Ghost said...

There's a lady who's sure all that glitter's is gold/and she's buying a stairway to heaven.
Allowing Jesus into your life makes about as much sense as someone on Staten Island starting a bed and breakfast.
Mainline Protestantism has never had much more going for it than its noblesse oblige but now it's just making time until 2030 and most of its membership ends up in a landfil somewhere. So sorry that all you have left now is pathetic passive-aggression and a dwindling constituency of old WASP(and anglicised ethnic)ladies of both sexes, but that's the breaks.

The Rev. Dr. Christian Troll said...

Of Course Brad!!! You're RIGHT!!!

How could any of us missed this obvious truth: a couple of lines about about a woman determined to go shopping, from the most clich├ęd pop song of all time (albeit one with a great guitar solo), written over 40 years ago by a couple of drug-addled perpetual teenagers REALLY DOES render 20 centuries of Christian thought irrelevant. You, my persistent dullard, truly are a theological and philosophical GENIUS!!!

(Although I'm not too sure where you get the "passive-aggressive bit from. The responses I've seen to you here actually all look quite actively-aggressive. In fact the only passive aggression I've ever noticed around this place comes from some obsessive idiot who keeps pasting cut-and-paste comments about celebrating diversity.)