Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The Lord giveth... and Lord Jensen loseth.

Beloved Sinners everywhere have undoubtedly been wondering when my new curate is finally due to arrive. The truth is that his Lord and Master, Archbishop Volder-Jensen, has needed the foolish boy’s services for longer than anticipated. First Dobby was needed to serve as spinmeister for his country’s national synod - a challenging role given that most other attendees wisely decided that attempting dialogue with the Jensenites is as productive as attempting to discuss the mathematics of unified field theory with the crazy panhandler down on the corner near the drugstore.

In addition to telling lies about his cult’s popularity with Australian Anglicans not terrified of girl/homo cooties, Dobby - whom has now been a Deacon for almost three years’ and consequently knows everything about ministry, theology, and Anglicanism - also had the important task of teaching Clergy with more than tenfold his experience about their ignorance and failure to grasp the essence of Anglicanism. Which, of course, involves lay presidency and believing everything a member of the Jensen family says.

This completed just one final task remains before my Dobby is bound for Ichabod Springs, but I fear it’s one of positively Herculean proportions: with Mordor now enjoying its own diocesan synod the truth-challenged lad has to convince the rest of the world that his master’s master-plan is succeeding.

At the time of my writing this he’s managed to get a whole three people to comment on his strategically edited version of the GAFCON faux-primate’s address - one of whom is himself – so he hasn't yet quite managed to convince the world that the future of Anglicanism involves men with dubious investment skills in polyester business suits showing power-point presentations explaining why the Trinity is proof women must be seen and not heard. Still, give Dobby time: people laughed when they first heard that Kim Jong-il is the best golfer in the world...

Sure wicked Australian journalists are publishing articles in which little Pete admits things are in an even bigger mess than we'd already suspected, but thankfully those of us in the rest of world who have the honor of being told we’re “sub-christian” by the Jensenistas can keep hearing how wonderfully the Family at the heart of the Global Schism’s Reformed Puritan Division are managing their own affairs. Although given the Achbishop of Mordor’s economic restraints readers will have supply their own Kool-Aid.

For me, I’ve been particularly inspired by Archbishop Jensen’s vision to re-energize “lazy and unproductive assets” (those of you with insomnia can listen to his talk here). Has the history of English literature ever witnessed a more musical way of describing the act of taking whatever you can grab to a pawn-broker and then sticking the lot on legs-eleven at the nearest roulette wheel? Pure poetry.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Arise, Saint Newman!

These past few days have seen me inundated with requests for the definitive Conservative response with regard to the forthcoming Primates Meeting. Sure little Layman Anderson has been sharing his $0.02 with anyone really desperate for something to click on, but let's face it, opinionated schismatic bishops aren't exactly an endangered species. Maybe if ACNA could find an outspoken layperson to deliver the predictable rant - or even just a common-or-garden clergyman not currently preoccupied with claiming that pleading guilty doesn't really mean you did it - someone might be interested. Although, as we all know, Bobby Duncan's vision for the Prelacy of All Believers has been so successful that ACNA doesn't really have anyone left capable of stringing together a (reasonably) coherent sentence who isn't already wearing lovely purple vestments which could almost be mistaken for the real thing.

Consequently it once again falls on my righteous shoulders to say something about a forthcoming opportunity for the Communion’s leadership to fly somewhere interesting and politely bicker. Yet the truth is I’m currently far too busy, because by the miraculous Grace of God St. Onuphrius’ has become Ground Zero for the final step in the Blessed John Henry Newman's canonization.

That’s right, after prayerfully meditating upon an icon of the late Cardinal, Bishop Quinine has experienced a miracle so marvellous that the deliverance of some Boston Deacon from a life of spinal agony is simply nothing in comparison. Yet do you think any of the illegitimate rent-boys of Babylon in the Vatican have bothered to respond to any of our emails advising of this astonishing work of wonder? Not at all – I dare say the American Society of Hematology treats Jehovah’s Witnesses with more respect than we’ve received from these apostolic apostates. And it's not as if we've ever disturbed anyone's afternoon nap to leave pamphlets and insist Isaiah refused to let his kids have blood transfusions.

However it’ll take more a few 16th century schismatics in Rome to stop Me and My Ministry team testifying to a miracle. What’s more, given enough time and persistence on our part, I’ve no doubt the Vatican will repent of their lack of faith. Even though you can be certain that if the Pope had to pay what Viagra costs in our neck of the woods he’d be just as excited as Bishop Quinine was to discover the old Tractarian now has a dispensation to intervene in cases of Brewer’s Droop...

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.