Sunday, March 25, 2007

Waiting for Rowan

If you're one of the tiny band of folks who read this blog, then surely you're aware that our House of Bishops has all but begged the Archbishop of Canterbury to visit the U.S. -- something he has steadfastly refused to do since his installation.

No doubt, you're also aware of Brother Causticus' efforts to bring the Archbishop to the U.S.

You might understand why the Archbishop is quite content to meet with Zimbabwe's murdering bishop of Harare, while eschewing a visit that might bring him {eek!} face-to-face with a gay bishop in the U.S.

You're probably aware, too, of how mean some of the Anglicans in England are being to the Archbishop. If you've seen articles like this and this -- in which even the conservatives and evangelicals in England are asking what he's up to -- then you must wonder why he would not flee to the Anglophiles in the U.S.

So ... if you know all that ... you are surely aware that our waiting for Rowan to visit us has become something akin to Waiting for Godot.

And so is Father Jake. He has begun writing Act I of Waiting for Rowan. I think it's a masterpiece. Go check it out.
OK? Been to Jake's?
Now I'll copy the script here. 'Cause I promised him I would not put it here until he had published it. And because I fear he might delete it from his site. So it will remain here.
I give you . . . an excerpt from Act I of Waiting for Rowan (by Father Jake):
From Act I:
VLADIMIR: Well? What do we do?
ESTRAGON: Don't let's do anything. It's safer.
VLADIMIR: Let's wait and see what he says.
ESTRAGON: Who?
VLADIMIR: Rowan.
ESTRAGON: Good idea.
VLADIMIR: Let's wait till we know exactly how we stand.
ESTRAGON: On the other hand it might be better to strike the iron before it freezes.
VLADIMIR: I'm curious to hear what he has to offer. Then we'll take it or leave it.
ESTRAGON: What exactly did we ask him for?
VLADIMIR: Were you not there?
ESTRAGON: I can't have been listening.
VLADIMIR: Oh . . . Nothing very definite.
ESTRAGON: A kind of prayer.
VLADIMIR: Precisely.
ESTRAGON: A vague supplication.
VLADIMIR: Exactly.
ESTRAGON: And what did he reply?
VLADIMIR: That he'd see.
ESTRAGON: That he couldn't promise anything.
VLADIMIR: That he'd have to think it over.
ESTRAGON: In the quiet of his home.
VLADIMIR: Consult his family.
ESTRAGON: His friends.
VLADIMIR: His agents.
ESTRAGON: His correspondents.
VLADIMIR: His books.
ESTRAGON: His bank account.
VLADIMIR: Before taking a decision.
ESTRAGON: It's the normal thing.
VLADIMIR: Is it not?
ESTRAGON: I think it is.
VLADIMIR: I think so too.
Silence.
ESTRAGON: (anxious). And we?
VLADIMIR: I beg your pardon?
ESTRAGON: I said, And we?
VLADIMIR: I don't understand.
ESTRAGON: Where do we come in?
VLADIMIR: Come in?
ESTRAGON: Take your time.
VLADIMIR: Come in? On our hands and knees.
ESTRAGON: As bad as that?
VLADIMIR: Your Worship wishes to assert his prerogatives?
ESTRAGON: We've no rights any more?
Laugh of Vladimir, stifled as before, less the smile.
VLADIMIR: You'd make me laugh if it wasn't prohibited.
ESTRAGON: We've lost our rights?
VLADIMIR: (distinctly). We got rid of them.
Silence. They remain motionless, arms dangling, heads sunk, sagging at the knees.

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