I Wish I Knew How To Quit You

I notice with some amusement that Robbo’s Former Episcopal Church still has me marked down for receipt of the annual birthday offering envelope.   No doubt I’ll appear in tomorrow’s service bulletin as well.  So far as they’re concerned, I still count as a warm body regardless of my actual beliefs.  Nonetheless, the next time you see an article or the like stating that the Episcopal Church has a national membership of 1,900,000, you should know it’s actually 1,899,999. 

In a strange twist, I believe I actually spend more time there now than I did prior to swimming the Tiber, since Mrs. R has become much more committed to regular attendance than previously and it’s my duty to tag along in order to help ride herd on the gels.  I suppose that so long as I refrain from taking part in the RFEC communion (which I, of course, do, remaining in the pew and smiling quietly to myself) nobody can tag me with being too heretical just by showing up.

Besides, I still have friends there, I enjoy helping out with sandwich Sunday once a month, and the hymns are usually well worth singing.

UPDATE: Oh, my.  I haven’t been paying attention to these things for a while, but this morning the rector suddenly started talking about how “the Church’s strength is in its contradictions” and “don’t believe everything you read in the papers.”  I leant over to tell Mrs. R that it sounded like somebody has just dropped another bombshell, but she shushed me before I could get the words out.

Well, it turns out my radar was working just fine because it seems the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia has just passed a resolution embracing free love.