Today, the joke known as the “church” of England has proceeded to the demolition of another taboo, and appointed the first joke bishopette.
It was a long march: in the Seventies, the joke “church” first stated priestesses were, in principle, a joke, and therefore not unfit for them. In the Eighties, the first joke deaconettes made their appearance. In the Nineties it was the turn of the joke priestesses, a concession obtained against the promise that there would never be joke bishopettes. In the Tens of the new century, we are there at last.
The next stops on the road to equality: the first transgender bishop, the first dog mounting bishop, and the first incestuous bishop. At which point cats and dogs owner will, no doubt, become very loud, defending the rights of their own good creatures against the lack of inclusiveness of the “church” of England. And why not, in the end. If you want to be inclusive, be inclusive all right. There were no cats and dogs among the Apostles, but no women either, so it's not clear why the discrimination.
Why do I tell you all this?
Because otherwise you wouldn't even notice, that's why.
The remaining Anglicans will also be relieved: now that their new bishops will soon be, to possibly 50%, wonderfully conversational, tea-drinking ladies completely allergic to any form of Christian orthodoxy, they will feel even more good as they go around completely ignoring Christianity as they do already.
In all this, the Country barely notices. The so-called c of E isn't even able to elicit any kind of mass approval when she does something so evidently anti-Christian. The masses merely notice (If they get the news) that the Anglicans are now even further away from Christianity and immersed in the world. No need to waste time on them, then: the world is around all the time anyway.
An irrelevant organisation wants to become “relevant” by being changed by the world it states it want to change. The irony does not escape the Country. A country which is barely noticing what those bunch of nincompoops are doing.
Say hello to the first joke bishopette.
I am sure she is good at light conversation.
One must really be amused at the way the so-called Church of England works: on the one hand, they think – some of them pretend they do at least – that they have Apostolic succession. On the other hand, they have organs deciding with a normal majority vote fundamental tenets of their religion, like for example whether they should have male priests like the Christians or add priestesses like the Pagans.
At times, the democratic decision progress doesn't reach the results the very democratic bishops want to achieve, so when the organ of the laity culls the proposal for wymyn bishop the idea of accepting the democratic principle doesn't enten their minds for a second, rather they all start to whine and complain that the introduction of bishopettes has now been delayed at least two years.
It doesn't make sense to any sensible person, but then Anglicans aren't sensible persons so it's par for the course. This is why they accept that bishopettes are discussed in the first place, when twenty years ago they were told they would have priestesses but, God forbids, no bishopettes. Again, though, if one is so thick as to think a priestess is remotely compatible with Christianity, then one has richly deserved the bishopettes. Similarly, those not very bright minds who thought twenty years ago they could carve their own niche of conservatism and have things the way they like in their own backyard are now going to get what they deserve, so that they learn – albeit too late – that Christianity is more than having a parish life tailored to one's preferences.
In the meantime, one third of the Mickey Mouse “priests” – no holy orders, remember – are wymyn, which roughly suggest two thirds or more or the mickey mouse ordinations in the last two decades were of said wymyn. Add to this the tragic problem of homosexuality among the male clergy and you will have a clear idea of where they are.
Not that there is much to save, mind: around 3% go weekly to Mass, and one wonders why seen that these people change their mind every few years. Perhaps they want to keep current with the latest changes. In twenty years' time we will have the newly appointed Archbishopette of Canterbury getting drunk in a bar, desperately looking for an old divorced man willing to take her home for the night. The country will salute it as very modern. You see, this is an outfit of which its former boss has said that it must catch up with the civil society out there. Complete bending over to every fad and every fashion, even the most unchristian ones.
Now that's Anglicanism for you. Make no mistake, there's no salvation among this bunch of muppets.
One must really smile at the glorious incompetence of Britain’s chief muppet, the not-so-intrepid Rowan Williams. It is widely acknowledged that his decision to go (already) was inspired – possibly rather forced – by his tragic inability to have a clearly recognisable policy at least for thirteen minutes before breakfast. His weakness, indecisiveness and ability to write and talk so much without saying – let alone deciding – anything at all make of him a comic legend in his own times, and will be sung by generations of stand-up comedians’ lovers.
What will, then, such a tool be able to do, other than suggest to his successor how he should behave in the matter of bishopettes? It is as if Gordon Brown would offer his advice to his successor on how to be cool, popular and funny, or Obama would lecture his successor about how to reduce the deficit.
It’s just plain stupid, senseless, and unwittingly hilarious.
Also please note the arguments used: divisions here, conflict there; the uncertain outcomes, and the usual feminist talk (the “stained glass ceiling” is worth of Jay Leno on a bad day). That the matter be something to do with Truth does not seem to concern him.
Welcome to the world of Rowan Williams; the man without a policy, and the utter inability not to talk about one.
Once again, I suggest my Anglican readers to click here.