Carry your own plastic bags Bishops.

He’s there most mornings. A man in his late sixties, and his dog. I see them as I take my 6:00 a.m. walk.

The man smokes. I suspect that he’s forbidden to do so in his home. He waits there, ambling for a few yards every now and then.

He also waits. I commented on this to him yesterday “Life’s odd isn’t it?” I said, “just hanging around waiting for your dog to poop”. He laughed a good laugh and agreed.

And he cleans up the poop before he leaves the lakeside.

Some folks think that we are in an unique mess in the Episcopal Church.

I think “it has ever been thus”.

But we are in a crappy time, when we seem to be hanging around waiting for sundry Bishops in Texas, Pennsylvania or Wisconsin to poop. Poop they do, and then expect our Primate or the Archbishop of Canterbury to clean up the mess. “Carry your own plastic bags Bishops!”

I have a friend, a wise and now retired Episcopal Priest, who lives in Maine. Years ago we were at a dreary “Clergy Day” in Western Massachusetts.

We, the Clerics, were divided into small groups and sent off to the Cathedral Sunday School rooms to discuss “our philosophy of ministry”.

We were sullen We grunted at each other. Then my friend broke the gloomy spell. “Philosophy of ministry?” said he. “I think that I am just farting around hopefully”.

Of the mess in the Episcopal Church I think “it has been ever thus”. And despite my sinful desire to add to the mess, I am trying to live into my friend’s wisdom.

Life is sweet. God is good. As for the lovely Episcopal Church. My part will be to fart around hopefully.

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