Stairway to Heaven?

Writing a sermon on Mark 9:38-50 replete with the “unquenchable fire” has made me consider my own personal Hades soundtrack. Not that I intend to put it on my i-Pod in preparation for an upcoming journey. Feel free to add to this, it’s hardly complete. Just a quick stalling tactic on my part in the middle of sermon prep. Here goes:

1. “Ring of Fire” by Johnny Cash

I fell in to a burning ring of fire
I went down, down, down
And the flames went higher.
And it burns, burns, burns
The ring of fire
The ring of fire.

2. “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones

I was round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name

3. “Hell in a Bucket” by the Grateful Dead

I may be going to hell in a bucket, babe
But at least Im enjoying the ride

4. “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC

No stop signs, speed limit
Nobody’s gonna slow me down
I’m on the highway to hell
And I’m going down, all the way down

5. “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band

The devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal.
He was in a bind ‘cos he was way behind: he was willin’ to make a deal.

Talbots vs. The Episcopal Church

Living in Hingham, the home to Talbots, has made me consider a few of the similarities between the Episcopal Church and the venerable clothing store. Here goes:

1. Talbots is known colloquially as “The Red Door” since all their stores have them. The vast majority of Episcopal churches have red front doors — though not, interestingly, St. John’s in Hingham. I guess this town’s only big enough for one red door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. Talbots Catalog. Almy Catalog. Models striking unnatural poses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 3. The classic Talbots look was intended for the customer whom Women’s Wear Dailyonce called “the country club woman.” In another era the Episcopal Church was half-jokingly referred to as “the Republican party at prayer.”

4. Famous people, like Michelle Obama and her mother, wear Talbots clothing for magazine shoots. Sometimes famous Episcopalians end up on magazine covers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Snazzy seasonal colors: reds, purples, greens, and whites.

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Bloody Marys are often sipped by Episcopalians wearing Talbots. In a fit of irony, Queen Mary Tudor (aka “Bloody Mary”) often persecuted Anglicans. 

6. Founders Rudolph and Nancy Talbot were Episcopalians and attended St. John’s in Hingham.

Well, that’s a start. And probably also the end of this nonsense. Come visit us in Hinhgam and Bryna will be sure to give you a tour of the original Talbots. Or at least take you to the outlet store (one of only two in the whole country I understand). I’d love to join you but I’ll be, um, busy.

Gnatty Dread

This afternoon I found a dead gnat swimming in the coffee mug on my desk. This was tragic for the gnat, no doubt, but it also briefly interrupted my caffeine intake. And that has serious ramifications for an entire community of faith. There is no word yet on whether said gnat committed suicide by java or was pushed. When I found the body, I immediately contacted the authorities (by posting the event on Facebook). I have an alibi as I had temporarily left my office to speak with my Parish Administrator. She can vouch for me (or she’ll be fired).

In the ensuing moments I did my Christian and priestly duty by administering last rites and conducting an e-funeral. The Rev. Scott Gunn of Rhode Island gave a touching eulogy via his iPhone. The text is here:

“It was a good gnat, beloved by all. Active early on as a gnatolyte, then later on in the gnat choir. Most recently, she’d been in the gnat’s home. Survived by 300 sons and daughters, she lived life to the fullest for her four months.”

 

Thank you to Father Gunn for taking time out of his busy schedule to offer us all a word of comfort amidst our grief. Memorial contributions in loving memory of our dearly departed gnat may be made to either one of our discretionary funds (pick me). A reception will be held in the Parish Hall later today. GNatty Boh beer will be served.

Episco-Papal Encyclical

Word seems to be getting out about my Popiscopate. Thanks to Father Scott Gunn, blogging from General Convention, for highlighting the state of the Episcopal Church on the East Coast and to Mad Priest blogging from the UK. Of course Father Gunn has passive aggressively hinted that he will be sharing the news of my (not-so-hostile) takeover with my current bishop. For this I have razed his church in Rhode Island and turned it into a Dunkin’ Donuts. Drive thru, of course (stained glass windows).

Below is my first Episco-Papal Encyclical. I write on the subject of church polity (etc) during the waning days of my reign. This is a hot and confusing topic in the Anglican Communion; one which I will clarify. Just as a reminder, whenever I sit down to write an e-encyclical I am infallible. Not just the typed words but my very being. Got it? Infallible. Oh, and inerrant as well. If you’re not already on your knees in humble supplication, I bid you to bow down before your computer in anticipation of holiness.

EPISCO-PAPAL ENCYCLICAL
OF THE SUPREME PONTIFF
Timotheus I
TO THE BISHOPS
PRIESTS AND DEACONS
MEN AND WOMEN RELIGIOUS
THE LAY FAITHFUL
AND ALL PEOPLE OF GOOD WILL
ON INTEGRAL HUMAN DEVELOPMENT
IN CHARITY AND TRUTH

 1. I have abolished the Southern Cone and replaced it with the Orange Southern Cone. This will lead to a more godly church and assist with parking control problems on Sunday mornings.

2. All “Flying Bishops” will be relegated to the overhead compartments. If their size prevents the flight attendants from adequately closing the bin doors, they will be tagged and stowed below in the checked baggage area.

3. Clergy who update their Facebook and/or Twitter status more than five times per day will be de-frocked for dereliction of pastoral duties.

4. Parish Halls built in the 1960’s will be immediately torn down. Those with massive sliding room dividers that haven’t been used since the mid-’70s will have priority.

5. All Episcopalians East of the Mississippi will sign an Oath of Conformity to the Most Grand High Pope of the East Coast. What precisely they will be conforming tois irrelevant. Those who fail to sign the oath will be banished to the undercroft to wear a dunce cap. Which looks amazingly similar to the Orange Southern Cone (see #1).

 6. I hereby establish the Institute for New Episco-Papal Tchakes (INEPT). Their charge will be to create an Episco-Papal Industrial Complex to include, but not be limited to, Episco-Papal Soap on a Rope, E-P Halloween costumes, the E-P Bar (with nougat), E-P bobble heads, and E-P box cutters (which, if you’re taking an airplane, must be checked with the Flying Bishops — see #2).

 Given by my hand this day in the first week of my Popiscopate, 2009. 

 +Timotheus I+

Most Grand High Pope of the East Coast

 

 

 

Pope of the East Coast

Since nearly every Episcopalian I know is in Anaheim, California for the triennial General Convention I’ve decided to take over the church on the East Coast. So for the next few weeks things are going to look a little different around here. Consider this your insider’s guide to the mind of an ecclesiastical madman. Here we go:

1. My Title – ”Simple Country Parson” will no longer do. You will now refer to me as the Most Grand High Pope of the East Coast. The nice thing about this new moniker is that it rhymes (basically), gets to the heart of my new job description, and creates a simple yet easy-to-remember acronym that just rolls off the tongue: MGHPEC.

2. My Domain– I’ve taken over the Episcopal Church east of the Mississippi River. So everything from the river to the sea is my “see.” I look at my new territory as one giant mega-church where I’m the outlandishly paid Senior Pastor. (You should see the size of the collection plate I’ll be passing around on Sunday morning). I’m insisting on a 10% tithe from all of my subjects, I mean parishioners. Auditors are standing by to examine your most recent tax returns.

3. My Platform– Absolute conformity to my theological and liturgical whims. These may change on a weekly or seasonal basis so keep your eyes peeled for updates. You won’t actually receive any updates but you will nonetheless be expected to remain in sync with your MGHPEC.

4. Liturgical Dress– This is most important so pay attention. So there’s no confusion over who is lording what over whom (that would be me over you), my vestments will reflect my stature (in the church; not my actual height which isn’t important — 5′8″ is taller than it looks when you wear high heels). We’ll start with headgear. I won’t be wearing a miter so much as a replica of the Washington Monument. When I walk into my cathedral (which bears a striking resemblance to Giants Stadium) I don’t want to be mistaken for some measly acolyte. You won’t need to concern yourself with my other liturgical haberdashery since I will be carried into mass on a platform like the pharaoh.

5. My Polity– The church will be ruled by a top-down structure. I’m on top and everyone else is down below — which makes for a simple, easy-to-read flow chart. You may kiss my feet and/or you may kiss my ring (which is twice the size of the average Super Bowl ring). I keep it in my back pocket.

So those are some of the changes that will be implemented during General Convention. You may have thought that all the major decisions affecting the church were being made in Anaheim but this was mere propaganda. Come July 17th I may be your Pope-in-Exile. But until then I bid you to bow down and worship. Jesus, of course.

+Your Most Grand High Holiness+

The Magic (Episcopal) Kingdom

As many of my fellow Episcopalians prepare for the Church’s triennial General Convention in Anaheim this month, I thought it would be helpful to compare and contrast the convention experience with Disneyland. It’s my way of participating in the councils of the church as I promised in my ordination vow. Here goes:

 We’ll begin with the logos (that’s logos, not Logos for you Greek scholars). It’s unclear at this point whether there will be more fireworks at the convention or the park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can be assured that there will be plenty of characters in costume.

 

 

 

 

 

 Dumbo in absentia and Dumbo in situ (not to be confused with any elephants that may be in the room).

                                                                                            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s always a bevvy of unique headgear.

                                                                                                       

Speeding Monorail versus priests striving to get on the fast-track to bishop.                                             And, finally, our respective patron saints:

                                                                              

If you’re a delegate, enjoy this year’s General Convention. And I certainly hope you fit in a trip to DisneyLand — it may help keep you grounded amid the hoopla.

Iconography

ICON

If an icon is a window into the divine, it’s helpful to know the difference between the various types. The word “icon” (from the Greek eikon meaning holy image) has lost much of its meaning over the years. The Rev. Al  was quoted yesterday as saying, “Icon was only a fraction of what he [Michael Jackson] was.” I guess the same could be said of Jesus. Though, presumably, a much larger fraction.

CULTURAL ICON

COMPUTER ICON

Kitchen Karma

The most frightening place in any church is not the sub-basement. It’s not the rotting staircase leading to the bell tower. It’s not even that undercroft bathroom with the dated diaper changing table. It’s the parish kitchen. The place where you’ll find milk dating back to last Advent; the place where people reshelve lipstick-laden tea cups for next week’s coffee hour; the place where vermin feast on unswept up donut crumbs left over from the AA meeting.

The major problem with parish kitchens is that nobody ever feels empowered to throw anything out. Someone’s grandmother “graciously” donated a souflee dish (that was ugly, chipped, and one step from the garbage 50 years ago). But, since she was a pillar of the church, her ghost might forever haunt the culprit who decides to toss it. So there it sits collecting dust in the back of a cabinet.

Open any drawer and you’ll encounter both mismatched silverware, some containing forks with leftover bits of tuna casserole from the 1978 parish picnic, and an assortment of godforsaken utensils dating back to the Nixon administration. And there’s always a cabinet full of puke green clunky ashtrays. If you like to chain-smoke while making a cheese souflee with a rusty hand whisk this is your lucky day!

Last week a group of ladies, including Bryna, took matters into their own hands (and yellow rubber gloves). Six of them spent four hours scrubbing, throwing things out, and sanitizing our parish kitchen. Did I mention they threw things out? Bags and bags full of useless junk that no one will ever miss. They didn’t ask my opinion on anything and they didn’t want it. I wisely stayed clear of the proceedings.

By the time the whirlwind had passed through, the place was transformed. People were shocked and amazed. It looked like a place you could actually eat in without picking up the swine flu or whatver.

The next day, as I was leaving to do the early service on Sunday morning, Bryna lifted her head from the pillow and uttered a drowsy command: “Don’t mess up the kitchen.” I wouldn’t dare.

Clergy Haberdashery

I got another Almy catalog in the mail today and, as always, I’m fascinated by the models they use. On the male side, there are two type casts: the buff young curate and the smooth silver-haired rector. The young “priests” look like guys you’d want to go have a drink with at McSorley’s Pub but spiritual counseling? Not so much.

The women “clergy” either need an extreme makeover or are, well, hot. Which is kind of odd. It makes you wonder what other magazines and catalogs they model for? “Let’s see on Monday it’s the Almy shoot then Tuesday and Wednesday I’ll be doing Frederick’s of Hollywood.”

Facial expressions consist of either the cheesy coffee hour fake grin or a pseudo-pious, heavenward glance. And if you ever lay your hands on one of these (ask your priest — we get about one a week), check out the way both the men and women hold their hands — it’s hilarious. The overly pious hand clasp is a hoot. The only variation in the current issue is the strapping guy in the ugly striped clergy shirt with one hand in his pocket and the other on his belt buckle. What are you Father Fonzie? Aaay!

In all of these clergy catalogs the men’s clergy shirts, vestments, and assorted paraphernalia are in the front and the women’s section always feels like an afterthought on the back pages. It’s sad but true.

Well, I guess someone has to model these things. It would look even odder if they were all draped on mannequins. Yes, I know, you’ve heard some priests preach about as well as your average department store mannequin.

Perhaps I’ll start moonlighting as a J.Crew model in my spare time. Now that would look authentic.

Pig Plague Solutions

My friend, clergy colleague, blogger, and fellow Governor (Episcopal Life, Board of), the Rev. (Honorable) Scott Gunn has a solution to the Swine Flu hysteria sweeping our churches. You can read it here. You won’t want to miss this one — it involves Hazmat-inspired clerical vestments.

I’m not sure if Scott will wear one of these when we have dinner the night before I run this Sunday’s Providence Marathon (he’s a priest in Rhode Island).