Questing Parson

"R" Rated Literature

It was one of those meetings the parson didn't really want to attend. He knew he, along with a couple of others, would be the wayward cousins in the group. It was a meeting of the regional ministerial association. The parson was considered to be somewhat beyond the religious left horizon by many of the participants.

Truth be told, the parson didn't duck the designation.

Meeting over, it happened. The parson got stuck in a group that began a discussion the parson would have rather not been part of. He kept quiet and listened, determined not to make a comment.

“I tell you, Fred,” said Herman Sylvester, pastor of the Spirit-Filled Church of the Triumphant Procession of the Doubly Redeemed, “I'm really proud of that publishing company for standing up for principle. It's refreshing.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Fred Abbott, pastor of the Pentecostal Brethren of the Gifts of the Spirit.

Herman quickly began to educate. “I'm talking about Rachel Held Evans' last book.”

“What's the name of the book?” asked Fred.

“I don't know the name of the book,” said Herman. “That's not important.”

The parson couldn't resist. “The name of the Book is: A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How A Liberated Woman Found Herself On Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband 'Master.'”

“Well, glory be,” said Sam Peterson, “the parson reads evangelical books.”

“I do from time to time,” the parson replied.

“So, what's the issue with the book?” asked Fred.

Herman continued his education. “The issue with the book, Fred, is the way she was going to include the term ...” Herman looked about the room as if to determine if it were safe to continue. “... Well, she used a term to describe a woman's female parts.”

The parson smiled. He waited. The silence was deafening. Finally Paul Prentiss, pastor of the Redeemed Church of the Holy Sanctified Baptized in the Holy Spirit, asked, “What term was it?”

Again Herman looked around. He lowered his voice. “The term was 'vagina'.”

“What?” asked Fred.

“'Vagina.' I said the word was 'vagina'. She wanted the church publishing company to print a book with the word 'vagina' in it. Thank goodness the publishers informed her that no matter how popular her books were they were not going to publish a blatant reference to sex as is that.”

Heads nodded. Murmurs of agreement bounced around the group.

Then there was silence for a moment. Afterward the parson rose to leave. Herman challenged him. “So, Parson, would you agree it was a bold thing for that publishing house to refuse to publish a book with that kind of reference in it?”

“Oh, I'm not qualified to comment on that, Herman,” said the parson. “I'm just worried about you folks.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sam.

“Well,” the parson remarked, “if your publishing company won't print books with references to sexual parts and/or acts in it, where are you folks going to buy your Bibles?”

Is There A Way to Have a Civil Conversation Between the Religious Right and Left?

Krista Tippett, in this unedited video, moderates a conversation between Jim Daly, President of Focus on the Family, and Gabe Lyons, founder of Q: Ideas for Common Good.  -  This is a compelling discussion with implications for all of us.

Evangelist For A Different Church

“I'm glad I ran into you, Parson,” said Ginny Carter. “There's something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What's that?” asked the parson as he placed the fresh asparagus he'd just taken from the produce shelf.

“Well, I'd like to talk privately,” said Ginny.

“We're in the middle of a grocery store,” said the parson.

“Maybe we could go over there by the deli where they have those tables. We could have privacy there.”

The parson quickly weighed his schedule for the day, his desire to talk or not to talk with Ginny, his knowing that Ginny would not be talking about the weather but what was a crisis in her mind. But then again she did work tirelessly in the church.

“Okay, Ginny, let's go over there. How about I get you a sandwich?”

“No, thank you. Let's just talk.”

The parson looked longingly at the club sandwich displayed on the deli counter, but he relented and joined Ginny at a table near the window.

“So, what's up, Ginny?” asked the parson.

“Okay, Parson, I'm going to get straight to it. I was told by someone ...”

The parson interrupted, “Does Someone have a last name?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ginny, don't be talking about 'someone'. I can't deal with 'someone' but I can deal with real people.”

Ginny screwed her lips up. She paused for a moment. “Okay, I was told by Sally Reynolds that you told Melissa Garner you'd help her find another church.”

“I did,” said the parson. “Sally is right. But what I really said was I'd help them find a church that fit their needs.”

Ginny's mouth opened. She stared at the parson. It was a good thirty seconds before she spoke. “I can't believe my pastor would suggest to a member of the church that he'd help them find another church.”

“Melissa is not a member of our church,” said the parson.

“Well, technically that's right. But she's been attending almost every Sunday for several months.”

“She has,” said the parson.

“Well, don't you think she would become a member soon?”

“No, I don't.”

“Why wouldn't she want to become a member?”

“Ginny,” said the parson leaning closer across the table. “Think about last Sunday. Picture Ginny in the Sunday School class. You were there. Tell me what you see.”

“Are you serious?”

“I'm serious. What do you see in your mind's eye when you picture last Sunday and Melissa in your class?”

“Okay, well, she had on this really nice plaid-like skirt and a – well, to be honest that skirt might have been a little short, but, let's see – she had a pale yellow blouse on.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean, 'What else'?”

“Where was she sitting?”

“She was sitting kind of away from the others, kinda in the back. That fellow she's dating was on her right. And, let's see. Oh, she had the toddler in her lap and was playing with her to keep her quiet.”

“What about her boyfriend?”

“Okay, he was dressed in blue slacks and an oxford blue button down shirt. And he, no, he didn't have a tie.”

“What else about him?”

“Okay, I got it. He had the baby in his arms.”

“Do you see anything wrong with the picture you've described, Ginny?”

“Wrong? No. I think it's sweet for them to be there with those precious children.”

The parson sat back in his chair. “Ginny, do you remember the last two Council on Ministry meetings?”

“Well, I guess. What about them?”

“Do you remember me insisting that we couldn't wait for young adults with children to show up and not be ready for them in advance. Do you remember me telling you we need a nursery and a pre-school Sunday School class? Do you remember me telling you that even if no one who fit that description was there one Sunday we need to be prepared if they showed up the next Sunday?”

“Okay, Parson, I sorta remember that.”

The parson smiled, “Guess what, Ginny. They showed up. They showed up and they can't enjoy attending our church because we didn't prepare for them. So they have to sit there with their kids on their knees. And because they're sitting there with their knees filled with squirming kids we've effectively sent them a message.”

“You're getting a little hostile, Parson.”

“Do you think so?”

“Well, look I don't think that excuses you telling them you'd find them a church.”

“I don't need an excuse, Ginny. It's my moral obligation, my fidelity to my vows, to be sure that she and her significant other and, especially, the children are engaged in a vital church that prepares those children to live a Christian life in the future.”

“I've never known a pastor to tell people who attend our church they should go somewhere else.”

“Actually, Ginny, she came to me and we talked about it. I suggested she was right, that a church should provide a ministry to her children.”

“So, you're going to help them find another church?”

“I'm going to help them find a church that's prepared to minister to her children as well as the two of them. I'm still praying that church may be the one they already attend. But the clock's ticking, Ginny. The clock's ticking. So, Ginny, it's up to you guys.”

Ginny leaned forward. She whispered, 'Sometimes you really piss me off.”

“Let's hope so, Ginny. Let's hope so.”

Another Form of Evangelism

The parson, the parson's son, and the parson's daughter-in-love were headed out from Hot-lanta north to Connecticut. The parson's son, trading on the genes given him by the parson, had now parlayed his dance talent from being the dance captain into an associate director of the Pilobolus Dance Theater. They were moving to the beautiful countryside of Connecticut where the company's dance studios were located.

The parson being the retired old preacher he was managed to find the time to help with the move. And so, on a hot, hot Georgia day they headed out in a line of vehicles. The parson led the way. The position of leader was secured for him as he was the possessor of the faithful GPS guide, Gertrude Garmon. Gertrude informed him to turn left at the intersection, to head for the interstate and then proceed seventy-eight miles. It was understood that in seventy-six point eight miles Gertrude would provide additional instructions. And so, the parson, driving his son's Honda Insight (which by the way got 68.3 mpg on the trip) led the way, followed by his son driving the big U-Haul truck which was followed by daughter-in-love driving their other vehicle.

The almost convoy of vehicles headed north. Almost a convoy because they didn't have CB radios. It was a two day trip. It's hard to conceive that these three would but once get separated because of a red light or other traffic incident. But that was the case, with one exception. That exception was, no doubt, caused by the parson's fascination with how fast he could get the little Insight going while maintaining the maximum mpg.

The boredom of the trip was lessened by the monitoring of the religious programs on the radio stations. At a lunch stop, the parson, quoting the radio evangelist he'd just heard, informed his son and daughter-in-law that: “Anything with no head is dead. And anything with two heads is a freak.” The parson smiled as he finished the story. “Why did you tell us that?” his son asked. “Because,” said the parson, “the radio evangelist says that you, boy, have to be the head of the family.” He pointed to his daughter-in-love. “She doesn't get a vote, because 'anything with two heads is a freak.'” Daughter-in-love munched upon her Caesar Salad with a strange smile on her face.

It was a good trip, the driving being broken up with the three enjoying their quality time together. They laughed; they shared stories; they remembered way back when.

It was a perfect trip in every aspect until they were on the other side of New York City and headed for the Connecticut countryside. Daughter-in-love, it was decided, from that point took the lead as they were headed along back roads with which Gertrude Garmon might not be familiar. She darted around the two cars to assume her leadership. The parson moved into the center lane and slowed a bit to let the truck move forward. And then he tried to move into the space between the truck and the next car in the lane. The other car's driver was having nothing to do with that.

The parson flicked on his blinker. The other car moved forward to prohibit his changing lanes. The parson turned the blinker off. A few minutes later the parson noted the space between the truck and the other driver was big enough for two semi-trucks to fit. He turned the blinker on. The other driver moved up to prohibit his changing lanes. For five miles this continued. The parson was becoming frustrated. He didn't want to hold up the traffic behind him in his lane, but the other driver would not allow him to move over.

For some reason the other driver either tired of the game or he realized he was late. Suddenly he sped forward whipping in front of the parson and passing the truck. As he did, the parson spied his vanity license plate. It read: “3 John 16.”

“Ah,” said the parson to himself, “aggressive evangelism.”