Who is Worthier?

Johnny Carson knows the silence that should not be disturbed.

But Jane Fonda does not.

The Cathedral is gone. 

The Theatre is back.

Suspended midair in a velvet armchair, Jane Fonda hovers above stage left.  Below her are two lime green foam chairs with a round Formica coffee table between them. 

Smoke curling into the rafters from her joint, she purrs:  “Burfie, hello… .”

Doc Severinsen raises his trumpet for the reveille.

Jane says with a nod to Doc Severinsen.  “You’re very good at that.”

“Thank you,” he says.  “Occasionally, people tell me that.”

From stage left, out comes the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis led by William Duer, walking backwards with his camera on the reverend, talking as he goes:

“Burfie. Hello,” William Duer says quietly.  Then, in a loud rolling voice accompanied by a drum roll, he says:

Ladies and gentlemen:

Give a big hand to the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis – Bishop of Nova Scotia and erstwhile pastor in the great Trinity Church of Manhattan.

“Toot,” says Doc Severinsen.

Look at that wig – curled and powdered to perfection.

Tonight the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis is wearing a scarlet cassock made of watered silk, held with 39 individual sculpted buttons symbolizing the 39 Articles of Religion. 

Text 39AAR for prices. 

Each one humanely manufactured and blessed by the Bishop. 

Over the cassock, the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis wears a surplice of white satin; over the surplice, a fur stole; over the stole, a holy chasuble.  Layers upon layers of spiritual protection.  And as colorful as the rainbow.

“Toot,” says Doc Severinsen. 

Don this robe and you will be amazed:

People will believe everything you say.

You can tell them they will have a happy afterlife

And they will believe you

Because of this robe.

Without changing your diet or exercising.

You, too, can become more spiritually powerful…

Right now!  Don’t delay:  Text FFIncrease.

The Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis seats himself on the lime green foam chair and bows his head in prayer.

“And don’t forget! Go to RRDCI.com… Right now!” shouts William Duer as he disappears.

Doc Severinsen plays the drill call on his golden trumpet.

“Good job with the bugle,” says the announcer.  “You’re pretty good at that.”

“So I’ve been told,” says Doc Severinsen.

“And now we have Dr. Rodgers…”

With that, John Rodgers steps forward: Bible in hand, heel-first stride, head forward. 

William Duer’s bored voice is heard off stage:

Here comes Reverend John Rodgers.  Two honorary doctorates but no real education. 

He dons a limp black academic robe adorned by a plain white cravat.

(This outfit is also available at RRDCI.com.  Only five clicks to the wholesale warehouse.)

But — don’t be a john…

John Rodgers sits down in the second chair, a small round table between and the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis.  Once seated, he, too, bows his head.

William Duer jumps out on front of them and says to the audience: 

Whether you visit us at RRDCI.com or not – don’t forget to vote:  Which is the most worthy?

If it is Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis, press any number between 1 and 9. Your vote will be instantly recorded.

“Call to worship!” toots Doc Severinsen.

For Rodgers, push 11.

“Is that two ones?” asks the announcer.

“Tattoo,” says Doc Severinsen.

Then William Duer disappears.

The men are left on stage.

Two silent men sit upon lime green foam chairs with Formica table between them.

Their heads are bowed.

From the darkness:  “Gentleman,” purrs Jane Fonda.  “Go!”

A disembodied soft voice announces as if cards were being drawn:  “Based on a bet between God and Satan, we will begin tonight with the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis.”

A narrow spotlight turns on the Right Reverend Doctor Charles Inglis.

He clasps the crucifix hanging on his chest and looks up at Jane Fonda.

Madam, if it pleases you —

I will not say who is worthy and who unworthy.

For if I were to consider my brother Rodgers unworthy, I must first indict myself.

He and I are very different.  On a ruler of 12 inches, you would find us but 3 inches of agreement.

And yet we would both know that our goals are the same:  the betterment of mankind through God.  The aversion to the cruelty of men.

We differ in pamphlet and in pulpit, aye!  We have crossed crosses with much heat and passion.

Neither yielded but both of us suffered success and defeat. 

We shared our sorrows and losses in tandem to one another – our fates tied like a teeter–totter.  When one succeeded, the other – by physics itself –failed.

Once the war had begun, only one of us could inhabit Manhattan. 

And it was he. 

I concede.  I am exiled forever from the land I love.

Yet, could I say that he was unworthy?  Nay. 

Do I blame the Reverend Doctor John Rodgers for the failure of my cause?  Nay. 

But for the French and King George’s weak leadership and the exhaustion of the English:  It could just as easily have been me to conquer Manhattan.

As it should have been.

Yet, can I complain? 

Did I really lose?

But for this failure of my hopes in New York, I would never have become the Bishop of Nova Scotia — a country I now love as deeply as I love Manhattan.

And Nova Scotia needs me a great deal more than Manhattan…

Because Manhattan still has the honorable Reverend Doctor John Rodgers to shepherd its people.  And Nova Scotia only has me.

John Rodgers sits, his head down, shaking it slowly back and forth.  Finally, he looks up, his face wet with tears and his wide smile glistening: 

I must first confess…. Had I spoken those words first, I would be much a happier man right now. 

Once again, I have been outshone. In speech.  In honor.  In piety.  And humility. 

We shared so much sorrow in strife I should not be surprised that we share this mutual love for one another in peace.

I, too, was thinking that I would vote you the worthier. 

For I am but the graduate of a log cabin and you are the scepter of velvet and gold and power.

Besides: I am keenly aware of my own failings and only partially aware of yours.

(Although, I must remind you, my brother:  Those faults of yours of which I know are quite formidable and may present a considerable challenge to my conclusion that thou are the worthier.)

Charles Inglis replies:

Ah, but there you betray yourself, my dear Reverend Doctor Rodgers.   

For, to confess yourself the lesser:  is the surest mark of being the better.

And how can you not be the more worthy?  Not one – but two!  Two doctorate degrees.  Conferred for honor — not merit.  

And here, I only have one doctorate degree. 

Which I earned.

A self-made man from a Log Cabin fluent in Greek and Roman and Hebrew… 

If only you had been less interested in foreign ideas and more loyal to the English which you spoke. If only your oath to the king had mattered…

Alas, dear Reverend Doctor Doctor Rodgers, I must defer to your worthier-ness.

To which Rodgers replied:

Sir, I am bowed in awe that you should be so humble – you who bowed to only the king and all of his magistrates and anyone else with power and money in Manhattan…

Inglis says:

But, alas, dear sir:  Not as humble as the man whose holy staff, like Pied Piper, directed the rats through my city.  Surely that makes you more worthy than me…

Rodgers:

Oh, no, no, dear sir.  While I am the master of rats, you are hobnobbing with fat cats.

Inglis:

Says the man who stole the country from the king.

Passion, fortunately, grows old with time.

The men smiled.

They stood.  And hugged while both cried.

“Good to cross crosses with you again,” says John Rodgers.

“Even better to do it with you,” says Charles Inglis.

“The honor was mine,” says John Rodgers.

“And even more mine,” says Charles Inglis.

The Reverends showed little signs of wrapping up their show.  Johnny Carson senses that humility, like Zeno’s paradox, could be infinitely examined.

 No matter how much you have, you can always find more… 

And Johnny Carson’s bladder is stretching…

Fortunately, the red light goes off, the doors swing open.

His Burfie blinks yellow.