I wrote this satire a couple of weeks ago and held off posting it. My more grounded co-workers here found it too subtle. One advised me that a preparatory explanation would give readers a handle lest they think someone spiked my Cheerios or that I just needed a vacation. Well, the explanation that will, unfortunately, undo the challenge for attuned minds that can sniff spoofery from the get-go is this: Our president and vice-president delivered “sermons” at a White House Easter Prayer Breakfast for Christian religious leaders on Tuesday, April 7. What follows is a spoof with myself being a witness. Names have been changed, as has the venue, to protect the guilty. The words, however, which our POTUS and VPOTUS uttered, are quoted exactly as they were delivered.
The Prayers of the Pharisees
I was attending a Christian patriotic conference recently where two keynote speakers drew the audience’s attention to the great mystery of this holy season of Lent and Easter. Both speakers were exceptionally grandiloquent in praise for the Lord. Rather than a podium, they ought to have had a pulpit. This was not an Easter service, mind you, just a gathering of religious leaders, and friends of the same, who all love the Lord in their own way. Father Bing “Going My Way” O’Malley would have been delighted to attend if he were still with us. I do not often attend these ecumenical pep rallies but I am glad I didn’t miss this one.
It was a moving experience. One could imagine oneself back in the early post-apostolic times listening to one of the fathers.
The first speaker was the Reverend Lucius Barnaby, a gifted orator I was told, of the old school, who isn’t afraid — no, not one bit — to shake up the crowd with a little fire and brimstone. He was rather toned down this time it would seem — I think it was because he was being filmed on live television and his words were being recorded for a national audience.
After everyone had finished a hearty breakfast of raspberries and gluten-free muffins, the good Reverend greeted the attendees and welcomed us to a morning of “prayer and reflection.” So, we all recited the Christian Unity Creed and bowed our heads for a moment of silence. Some irreverent non-conformists straggled in sheepishly a few minutes late and smelling of cigarettes.
The Reverend shared his intensely optimistic “new hope” that had inebriated his soul after attending Easter Mass. Then he seemed to take on a new persona. He didn’t speak in tongues, but he wasn’t speaking the vernacular either — I mean the words were English — but the thoughts must have descended from the empyrean. He spoke of “mystery.” He was so condescendingly humble (oxymoron intended). In spirit, for a moment, he even gave the floor to Pope Francis: “I believe Pope Francis got it right,” he said, “in his Easter Vigil homily when he said, “We cannot live Easter without entering into mystery. To enter into mystery means the ability to wonder, to contemplate, the ability to listen to the silence and hear the tiny whisper amid the great silence by which God speaks to us.”
Then, he followed with these inspiring words — as I said, drawn from the empyrean — wherein he was still wafting high:
“I think that’s who we are as Christians,” he said, “and quite frankly, I think that’s who we are as Americans. We’re constantly renewed as a people and as individuals by our ability to enter into the mystery. We live our faith when we instill in our children the ability to wonder, to contemplate, and to listen to that tiny whisper amid the great silence. We live our faith when we nurture the hope and possibilities that have always defined us as a country. We live Easter — and to live Easter is to live with the constant notion that we can always do better. We can always do better.”
Yes, we can all do better. Sublime.
So, Reverend Lucius did do better, he introduced a better-than-he, Bishop Rusty Wright. (Close friends of the Bishop call him “Jeremy.”)
“I worked with [Jeremy] for a half dozen years,” the self-effacing pastor intoned, “That’s why I’m so grateful for what everyone in this room does to transform hope into possibilities, and possibilities into opportunity. And that’s why I’ve been so honored to work every single day for the last six-plus years with a man who encompasses that faith to his core. [That would be Bishop Rusty] A man who knows what it is to enter into the mystery with a deep and unyielding conviction that it’s within each of our reach to make real the promise of the ongoing miracle that is the United States of America.”
Bishop Rusty sashayed to the podium with a big smile and wide open eyes. He wore an air of giddy, over-caffeinated confidence. Everyone knew that he had something big to say.
He started off slow. That’s the way a pro does it. He muttered something dippy about the muffins being organic like himself, and, laughing at his own badinage, nodded to Mrs. Bishop who gracefully lifted a glass cup of raspberries and toasted the crowd.
“I want to thank everyone here for their prayers,” he began, waxing serious. Everyone lowered their eyes for no one really did pray for him even though he was a global figure, a mandarin among ordinary preachers. Of course he knew no one in the audience prayed for him. He didn’t pray for any of them either. Not that the didn’t pray at all. He did. He prayed daily for more power that he might do even greater things for his people, kill more tyrants, and help make the whole world safe for democracy. Yes, he was a man of vision, a dreamer. He continued:
“We hold this Easter Prayer Breakfast every year to take a moment from our hectic lives for some fellowship, friendship, prayer and reflection. I know pastors here have had a very busy Holy Week, and so for you to travel here and take the time to spend with us is extraordinary after what I know is difficult.”
After cleverly peppering in some casual pleasantries, the Bishop then segued into the Paschal theme of the conference:
“For me, the celebration of Easter puts our earthly concerns into perspective. With humility and with awe, we give thanks to the extraordinary sacrifice of Jesus Christ, our Savior. We reflect on the brutal pain that He suffered, the scorn that He absorbed, the sins that He bore, this extraordinary gift of salvation that He gave to us. And we try, as best we can, to comprehend the darkness that He endured so that we might receive God’s light.
“And yet, even as we grapple with the sheer enormity of Jesus’s sacrifice, on Easter we can’t lose sight of the fact that the story didn’t end on Friday. The story keeps on going. On Sunday comes the glorious Resurrection of our Savior.”
Did he forget something, someone? No, Bishop Jeremy wasn’t going to be outdone by Reverend Barnaby; he, too, paid kudos to Pope Francis. It was the popular thing to do, good PR:
“That’s the spirit we feel in the example of His Holiness, Pope Francis, who encourages us to seek peace, to serve the marginalized, and be good stewards of God’s creation. Like millions of Americans, I’m honored that we will be welcoming him to our country later this year.”
He ended his soulful discourse with an oration as he gazed heavenward:
“So today, we celebrate the magnificent glory of our risen Savior. I pray that we will live up to His example. I pray that I will live up to His example. I fall short so often. Every day I try to do better. [Yes, we can all do better.] I pray that we will be strengthened by His eternal love. I pray that we will be worthy of His many blessings.” Amen, Jerry!
“Reverend Doctor Sally,” he asked as he cupped his hands together, “would you please lead us in prayer.”
As we filed out of the hotel, all the attendees still in a lingering state of reflective euphoria, we had to pass by a group of protesters. They were carrying signs calling for an end to abortion.
The two guest speakers were close behind me and I could hear one of them say to the other something about: thanking God that they are not like these anti-choice dissidents here, who would deprive women of their health care.
