Imagine the scene, if you dare—for some readers this might be triggering or flat-out traumatic. There he is, a once-young, now-aging priest celebrating Mass, arriving at the homily, with Britney Spears headset microphone in place, center “stage” (er … Sanctuary), ready to “share” (not a homily, God forbid!), dripping and gushing with vacuous platitudes and, in all seriousness, stereotypically diva-like gestures and postures.
And everyone is just beaming and smiling.
God is just soooooo big, he insists, that no creed, no doctrine can have anything meaningful to say about him! Wait, strike that—not “him”—what was I thinking? The masculine pronoun for God

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