'Twas the Night Before Pentecost

'Twas the night before Pentecost when all through the church

Not a bishop stirred from his cathedral perch.

The reformers were hung out to dry in the air

In hopes they’d just leave in disgust or despair.

The obedient were nestled all snug in their pew

While visions of salvation grew and grew.

And the nuns in their civvies and the pope in his hat

Had just settled nothing so continued their spat.

When out in the world there arose such a clatter

I put down my rosary to see what was the matter.

Away to the newsfeeds I flew like a flash,

Tore open my browser after clearing the cache.

The loon on the cast of the talking head show

Gave the luster of sin to the pelvis and below.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But a miniature concern whipped into fear.

With little resemblance to facts or truth

I knew in a moment that it was uncouth.

More rapid than emails God’s Spirit, it came

But the hierarchy said, “This is something to tame.”

"Now bash her, that cancer! Now answer, you vixen!

On dogma, you’re stupid!  We’re fonder of Nixon!"

"You can stop at the kitchen, or clean the church hall!

Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

"As dry heaves that before wild vomiting hurl,

We’d rather close churches than follow a girl!"

So up to the altar the clerics they flew

With glittering vestments and an empty pew.

And then in a twinkling we heard in the news

The dancing and stalling of episcopal crews.

As we knew in our heads clergy abuses abound

Down came their credibility crashing to the ground.

They were dressed all in silk from their heads to their toes

But their words could have won them Pinocchio’s nose.

A bundle of social doctrine they’d thrown out in the back

And acted like Vatican II was written by a quack.

Their chasubles, how they twinkled! Their preaching, how scary!

Their chalices, how golden!  But of women, they’re wary.

Their droll little quips about women are failin’

Except with Republicans or perhaps Sarah Palin.

A stump of dated biology they hold tight in their mind

Creating smokescreens of canons that restrict and confine. 

They have a broad set of rules that seem rather silly

But adhere to them all somewhat willy-nilly.

Some are chubby and plump; Some are jolly; some have wealth

But their culture is imbued with oodles of stealth.

A wink of their eyes and a twist of some facts

Without recourse they can give some people the axe.

But the Spirit speaks not a word just goes straight to its work

Filling the people – even if outside the pews they lurk.

And laying a foundation aligned with Christ’s actions

Gives a disapproving nod, then decries all the factions.

It works night and day, to its “peeps” giving a whistle

And we are all called as stated in Paul’s epistle.

But I heard the Spirit exclaim though it’s always out of sight,

"Happy Pentecost to all and may you all be guided right."

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A parody of Clement C. Moore's poem, "The Night Before Christmas"