Old Anglican bishop says something stupid. Must be Wednesday.
One notes that the Bishop conveniently left out the fact that 300,000 Northerners died to eradicate slavery. But let’s get down to brass tacks. Is this country perfect? Of course not; no people or nation in the history of the world has ever been perfect. Is there racism here? Of course. We are by no means unique in that regard and Ms. Roskam knows it.
But if I truly believed that my country was as evil as the Bishop thinks her country is, I would, for the sake of my soul and my Christian witness, abandon it forthwith. Ms. Roskam, on the other hand, thinks her country is about the most vile place there has ever been or ever will be but has no problem living here and benefiting from its evil.
So if Catherine Roskam truly believes that the United States of America is anywhere near the ridiculous caricature she describes here, the fact that she still lives here means that she is not really sorry about anything but is engaged in that favorite Episcopal pastime. Cheap, pseudo-moral posturing.
Why do churchmen — black and white — focus so much on our ancestors’ sins and not our own? Because they don’t think we sin. They don’t think they sin. After all, they have at least one PhD and have read all the right books and memorized all the latest liberal talking points; they are innoculated from sinfulness.
It’s too bad you all didn’t pick your own cotton, but we’re all sick of hearing about it. Anyone who isn’t sick of hearing about it has a screw loose.
Chronic scab scratching is a symptom of an underlying nervous disorder. Scratching someone else’s scabs? That’s a whole new wing of the nut house.
Meanwhile, here’s the “bishop” a few years ago:
The sight of women in priestly garb is bad enough. Note the mandatory butch white hair. Yep, that’s a real role model for young women in the pews; who’d want to be the Little Flower when they could be this chick, or Joan Chittister or any number of dykey old broads running Christianity for the past thirty years, with their endless degrees and tri-annual “sabbaticals” and really bad haircuts?
Then she opens her mouth:
“My sistas and brothas, all my homies and peeps, stay up — keep your head up, holla back, and go forth and tell like it is.”
Telling yourself “soon they’ll all be dead” only takes off so much of the edge…