April 09, 2009
The Reverend Pirate Wench
Happy Maundy Thursday, everyone! And Blessed Good Friday and Happy Easter, as well, because I know those AT&T asshats aren't going to fix my internet before Monday. Opps! Probably shouldn't mention our Savior's resurrection and asshat in the same sentence!
How 'bout some church talk for this Christian high-holiday weekend?
After my Assisting Minister gig, no fewer than three people asked me if I'd ever considered going to seminary. As in, school where you learn to be a pastor. By the third inquiry, I'd gotten pretty good at keeping the look of Are-you-fucking-nuts??? from my face.
Would it shock you to know that there's more than one good reason I shouldn't be a pastor?
1. I don't do high collars or turtlenecks. I only do V-necks. I don't want a career that involves a wardrobe change. I'd have to, like, have a pastor collar tattooed onto my neck or something.
2. I like the message of the New Testament. "Love one another," the eleventh commandment, given by Jesus to his disciples, is just darn good advice. But I'm terrible at following it, especially when I'm in the car.
3. The whole born-of-a-virgin, bestowed-with-magical-powers, rose-from-the-dead thing? I think we're missing some pieces of the story. I also don't get the logic of someone dying to save my soul. Couldn't God just save me because He wanted to? He's God! And I'm kind of uncomfortable with some nice man enduring horrible torture for the salvation of my sorry ass.
I'm not knocking faith. Frankly, I wish I had it. I wish it all made sense to me and was something beautiful I could cling to in difficult times. But my brain isn't programmed that way. I question everything. I am constantly playing devil's advocate in my mind. I need more information before I make any kind of decision, which is pretty much the definition of non-faith.
And what the hell kind of pastor doesn't believe in The Greatest Story Ever Told? Well, no kind because they'd never make it past the examination panel. Can you imagine my sermons?
"Easter is the day we celebrate Jesus' triumph over the grave! Or at least, the best practical joke ever. I mean, he wasn't on the cross that long, and some people did survive crucifixion. Perhaps it was all an awesome prank that Jesus and his pals played on the Romans! You know, fake his own death to get outta town, or to avoid paying taxes or whatever. Brilliant! Now let's sing a hymn because that's really the best part about Easter anyway -- great music! Oh, and chocolate! May the force be with you!"
The congregation would stone me to death right up there in the pulpit.
My friend Beatrix was one of the well-intentioned crazy people who mentioned me becoming a pastor.
"What?!" I exclaimed. "I'd be a terrible pastor!"
"No, you wouldn't! You have a good heart! You just have to stop doing evil things."
This was very disconcerting to me. Not because she thinks I'm evil -- Lord knows I am! But I was like, Wait a minute? What evil things have I done that Beatrix knows about? Most of my evilness happens in my brain, or my car. So what tipped her off?
Oh, right, the horns. I try to keep them covered with my bangs, but it is often windy when Beatrix and I go to lunch.
Comments
"you just have to stop doing evil things"
Ha hah ah hahahahaha
gasp
hahahahhahhahahahaahahaaa
Posted by: heather at April 9, 2009 03:59 PM
"I don't do high collars or turtlenecks."
It would be a sin to hide the girls.
Posted by: Hope at April 10, 2009 10:02 AM
One of my favorite spiritual mentors was a priest who got into fights with homeless people. It was an interesting interpretation of 'love.' I think you should take the tattoo'd collar a bit further and just body paint the whole priestly outfit. You would have quite the following. I would join your flock.
Posted by: Herc at April 10, 2009 11:20 PM