For all I advocate yelling at them, smacking them with handbags, and putting them to work in the free luncheon kitchen, in real life I’m scared spitless of bishops. Even when my guy showed up to my parish, I spent as much time as possible in the farthest part of the building from him.
Which was really interesting when I, as a member of the Vestry, had to go sit down and, y’know, TALK to him. Damn the small parish hall with no place to hide!
My bish isn’t a bad guy. I think we’re theologically at odds in some places, but… meh. Never came up in conversation. He presided at the Eucharist, I partook of the Eucharist. It’s what Christians do. I don’t think either of us wasted much time worrying about whether the other was somehow spiritually and eschatologically sound enough to participate in the transaction. I think I smiled at him, said ‘Amen’, and beat feet back to my choir stall to get on with the work.
Then again, I’m laity. I don’t, ain’t, and probably won’t never be asked to vow obedience to any bish.
Which is why this guy confuses me. Um, he’ll swear obedience to the bish, but he won’t eat crackers from the bish?
And now he don’t get why he ain’t being ordained?
This logic, folks, it’s getting dangerously close to insane troll logic.
What’s the solution? The only one I can think of is one my mother (a wise and holy woman) often suggests, which is for all parties involved to reach around behind oneself, get a firm grip, and yank that stick right outta your butt.
Christianity Is Not All About You.
Suck it up and get back to work.