The rector, our moles inform us, never tires of haranguing the pesthouse's pathologically credulous inmates on how very necessary a seminary formation is. It's almost an article of faith down in the lurid, fly-blown swamp. Yet, we find ourselves asking, if a seminary formation is essential, then why does the Flushing Rat allow "One Hand" to bring onto MHT's premises his new Bay-State protégé -- a man who never underwent formal seminary training? (For details, see last week's post below about "One Hand's" transgressive poison-pen letter.)
Also, we wonder why, after the Newbie separated from the priest out West and found sanctuary at the SW Ohio cult center, Dannie did not insist he spend a year or two enduring the flies, heat, torrential storms, and mosquitoes at the swampland pesthouse. (At least he could have done a summer internship.) Shouldn't the Newbie first have "settled down to seminary life" (a phrase from "One Hand's" Nov. 21 nasty-gram)?
Dannie and goof-prone, "seminary professor" Tony Baloney are committed to the same formational philosophy as the rector, aren't they? We thought the Terrible Trio had shared interests! Insofar as the rector stuck out his neck to save "One Hand" from becoming a big-box-store greeter during the 2009 SGG School Scandal, doesn't Deacon Dan have an obligation to support the swampland "seminary" mission by sending "Big Don" at least the Americans he plans to "ordain"? We're sure the rector would have welcomed with open and admiring arms a candidate who, by his own report, graduated with two degrees!
If the rector truly believed a seminary formation were so fundamental and if that belief had risen to the level of principle, then it would seem that, as a matter of conscience, he could not allow a man so irregularly "formed" to cross the buzzing threshold of the pesthouse compound. The McNewbie's haphazard preparation for the priesthood should represent everything against which the rector has devoted both his life and the treasure of his benefactors, shouldn't it?
Perhaps the rector, acutely sensitive to the buttered side of his bread, calculated there's no need to ruffle the feathers of the turkey who may, one day not so very far off, be in charge of the cult-center collections and the checkbook. Everybody knows that alumni are more disposed to support their alma mater: What motivation is there for a non-completer like the Newbie except to pretend he's one of the old gang and hope for some handouts later?
Self-interested "Big Don" certainly doesn't want to jeopardize those periodic remittances of the laity's hard-earned cash. In Traddielandia, where King Mammon reigns sovereign, the smarter cult masters -- that excludes the Bonehead, whose offbeat theological antics (for starters, think Terri Schiavo, Leonine prayers, and una cum) have visited big-dollar setbacks on the cult -- know it's always in their best interest to park their shape-shifting principles at the door when there's a risk of losing a few bucks. That's also why the rector still plays the hireling to an Arizona lay board despite his firm resolve against lay governance.
As they might might say in certain worldly-wise, New-York neighborhoods: Principles-schmincibles!