Lawless

“Lawless are they that make their wills their law.”
-William Shakespeare

Well, Toads and Toadettes,

It’s a long hot summer here in the Midwestern south. The Toad pond is a foot down, and the ice machine has been on the “two cube a day” production plan. The local grocery ran out of frozen strawberries on the eve of the Toad’s annual “Big Berries n’ Booze Bash”—a much bigger event than Willy’s Barbecue a state or two closer to the Rio Grande, let me tell you. All that and it’s, wait for it, diocesan synod season amongst the U.S. continuing Anglican churches.

Ordinarily, the Toad doesn’t involve himself in these events, which customarily are parades of vestments more ornate in inverse proportion to the size of the “jurisdiction” holding the event. Many of these “synods” largely resemble an ecclesiastical version of the bar scene from the very first Star Wars film down to finely dressed prelates from the Holy Anglican Orthodox Communion of Rigel III (Original Jurisdiction) actually playing Golden Harps Are Sounding on their proboscis. Nope, the Toad usually is too busy blending berries by the pond and working out rum ratios. Rawk.*

But, every now and again, a bit of news becomes so tantalizing that the Toad can’t pass it by. It’s a bit like a fat June bug in tongue range just after lunch. The Toad doesn’t need it, but zaps it anyway just because it’s there. So it is when a “jurisdiction”, or at least a part of it, goes rogue.

Now, the Toad likes a good summer mystery too, so he’s just going to throw out a few facts as passed to him in a brown paper bag, by a brown-shoed square in the dead of the night recently. The guy heard the blender and invited himself over. Three or four Strawberry Hazes and this guy would have admitted to kidnapping the Lindbergh baby. Rawk.* As it was, he just spilled a little story I call Lawless. (Ok, I could call it the “the bishop who wouldn’t leave and his crafty minions”, but it’s too wordy for summer, pally.)

Here’s clue number one, boys and girls. What happens when a bishop reaches mandatory retirement age in the church? He retires. At least, in the Toad’s corner of Christendom, he puts in his retirement papers and maybe hangs around until some guy with a fancier hat gets a new bishop into play. Not for this guy, bunky. For three, count ‘em three years his hand-picked standing committee has the good old bish stay on by “acclamation” (trans. “You don’t get a vote people. He stays, and we’ll punish anyone who says otherwise.”) No squawks, no squeaks.

Clue number two is pretty close. The aforesaid bishop for life tends to run educated clergy out of his diocese as quickly as he can. “And why is this, pray tell?” the Toad asked his sozzled visitor. “No opposition,” was the answer. Seems the bish never really went to a legitimate seminary of any kind. So too most of his clergy including several of his thugs on the aforesaid standing committee. Clergy like that get ideas—like why aren’t we playing by the rules. Bunch of stiffs.

At the same time, at least one highly-valued “clergyman” masquerading as a Dominican Friar (interesting enough in that he’s married with children) seems to have no record of an ordination—anywhere. It’s ok, though, boys and girls, he didn’t have a medical license either when authorities got squeamish about him giving exams and writing scrips in a clinic down south. Whoa! No problem there. Rawk, rawk.*

But, wait, there’s more—another clue. This “synod” passed changes to its local canons all designed to keep the bish in a paying job, and to give the lawyer for the bish a vote on the standing committee. This assures old miter-head a berth until the cows come home. Enforcement of these changes was vigorous at the hands of the lawyer who wrote them up for the his ecclesiastical boss and apparently made up procedural rules as he went along. Not an obstacle, this made up set of procedures, as we shall see.

One more little problem, here boys and girls, the legal Machiavelli behind all of this had been disbarred last January following some pretty interesting public opinions by the state supreme court. After all, it’s not just any legal eagle the court singles out for being a liar whilst plucking the old license. Nosiree! It’s a special, special kind of lawyer—one who never shared that little bit of inconsequential news with the people of the diocese, or with the national “denomination” for which he also is the lawyer. (They haven't got rid of him either, by the by.)

What would Perry Mason say? “Your honor, my investigator Paul Drake has uncovered some interesting information—my opposing counsel, having been exposed as a liar and all around poltroon, was disbarred six months ago and should be sitting in the gallery. I win.” Rawk, rawk, rawk.*

So, there it is, toads and toadettes, unqualified clergy running the show, bishops doing whatever they want, good clergy being run off, disbarred lawyers serving as diocesan and national chancellors. The only thing there hasn’t been is a property suit, or it would look exactly like…well…The Episcopal Church. (The Toad won't give away the entity--you have to do your own research, pally.) Raaawwwwk!*

At this point in the story, the Toad had to gently put a blanket over his peacefully sleeping guest—then roll him up in it and lock him in his car trunk until the guy sobered up. Then, a few Strawberry Hazes later, the Toad ruminated on lawlessness. Unless you are the Toad, you can’t just do what you want, pally. The problem with many continuing Anglicans, or Discontinuing Anglicans as a new blogster calls himself, is that they do the same darned stuff that the “other guys” do. Rule by whim, rule by terror, rule by whatever means necessary to put on and keep on a funny hat or ornate costume. It’s bush league Machiavellianism, and only hurts the little toads and toadettes.

It is Lawless. And not like the Toad’s main girl Lucy Lawless. Xena would make fast work of these lawless legions, and in a much better costume. Then she and the Toad would sit back to a pitcher of Strawberry Hazes, and never have to play guess the lawless jurisdiction again. But, until the warrior queen comes to put order in the house, here’s another secret recipe for summer fun. Seven or eight of these and Xena will be locking you in the trunk after your disbarment. Rawk!*

Strawberry Haze
Ingredients:
1 Shot White Rum
1 Shot De Kuyper Wild Strawberry
Top up Champagne
4 Strawberries
0.25 Shot Sugar Syrup

Remove the stalk from each strawberry and muddle these together in the base of a cocktail shaker. Add the White Rum and sugar syrup plus ice and shake well together. Fine strain into a flute or large martini glass. Top up with Champagne. Got it, bunky?

Yr. Obed. Serv.,

Roy Aldous Toad, DD-VS (Very Specious), LSMFT, D.Phil.
Prelate-Communion of Anglican Cranks in America (CACA) Original Jurisdiction (C'mon--you can't prove it's not real!)
*The Sound of One Toad Barking