The Rogue Cleric

I’m a cleric alright.  A priest, ordained in apostolic succession, under the authority of a bishop duly consecrated.  Only thing is, I’m apparently something of a rogue, a cleric gone wild, because I’m the only one doing the things I do.  What do I do?

Listen

First of all, I listen. I listen to the Holy Spirit and try to figure out what Jesus is saying to his Church today. I don’t know anybody who’s doing orthodox, innovative theology in the present era; nor for the past 400 years for that matter.

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Comment

Next, I comment. I look at the world around me and I, like Jeremiah, can’t help but speak out. If I don’t, it burns within me. Religion is meant to be applied; God cares about behavior, what decisions we make, how we live.

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Plan

Next I plan. So if God is still speaking, and the world needs to hear, then what can be done in the Church to make that a happy conversation? We’re God’s instrument for bringing the Gospel to the world; what’s the next step?

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Laugh

Then I laugh. If you don’t laugh you’re going to cry. Satire is the rare art of telling the truth, which may be painful, in a way that makes you smile.

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Climb

Then I climb. Mountains. Trails, rock, alpine. Much of God’s work was done on mountains.

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There are links to other articles and sites that I find worthwhile, and a contact page if you have questions or comments. I’ve worked in five parishes, I’ve been fired once, hounded into resigning twice more. A former boss got me dismissed from three other jobs before I could start, telling bishops who knows what to keep me from being able to work. I’ve received one Pastoral Admonition from a bishop, with a wax seal, no less.

Finally, I resigned from a parish I founded because of injuries suffered in a car crash. Either I’m a rogue cleric, or the devil’s paying me the greatest compliment he can, that of persecution.

You read and decide which it is.