"A Damn good one," I answer lining up my next shot.
Roma bellows.
Next favorite John Ferguson, the very epitome of a "southern gentleman," leans forward in his chair to tell me, our noses almost touching because we're so close, "You'd be a very fine preacher if you ever got saved."
There's no question that when it comes to my religion, I prefer making hamburgers out of sacred cows.
For more than 30 years now a common description of me as ... a minister, although I much prefer calling it how it really is ... a fellow stumbler towards a light I believe is there ... as emerged.
Last week in a lovely message from our friend Chuck Cox, he used the term opening a flood gate of other people using the same words to describe who ... and what ... I am.
"Irreverent," is the word but "in a reverent sort of way."
A former Jewish friend, Philip Solomons, said it this way, "You successfully juggle reverence and irreverence in perfect tantrum."
I don't know if that's what I do but it's a Hell of a good description.
He said it after I'd conducted the funeral of Jerry Robinson, a very successful businessman and recovering alcoholic, making him another perfect juggler of things in tantrum.
I have no recollection of what I said that day, but do remember Philip smiling while putting his arm around me in the parking lot of Fox and Weeks Funeral Home on Whitemarsh Island to say, "Even at a funeral you successfully juggle reverence and irreverence in perfect tantrum. Jerry would have loved it."
I can certainly conjure Jerry up from the grave right now, smoking a never ending cigarette over the bottomless cup of coffee he perpetually drank, immaculately dressed in a three piece suit, thinning brown hair perfectly combed, grinning and saying, "Thanks for making it funny. I'd hate for my funeral to be dead."
It's true I suppose most funerals are not funny and there's no question laughing helps us get through them.
My favorite funeral was Chicago Bob's, an impromptu affair on the Pier.
John O' Neill calls to say, "Meet me at the Pier. Bring your robe."
He hangs up without telling me why.
Riding my bicycle, I'm met by a crowd who explain I'm officiating the scattering of Bobby's ashes, which is of course illegal on Tybee Island.
"Where is he?" I ask.
Margaret his widow looks around and exclaims, "Oh shit. I forgot him. Be right back."
And she scurries away.
"Beers for everyone," Dean Morris says.
In those days, Dean ran the Pier.
When Margaret returns she carries a Target Bag and hands it to me.
Sure enough, inside is Chicago Bob.
The Pier's crowded with people fishing but our crowd muscles it's way into northwest corner facing Hotel Tybee and a thousand people in the water.
I say a few words, pray a prayer and open the Target bag just as a gust of Ocean breeze blows from the east and throwing the ashes up, the wind catches and splitting them into two directions ... one raining down on the swimmers in the surf and the other into the Pier where tourists eat cheeseburgers, pizza and ice cream.
A collection of Hispanic fishermen watching, pull one hand from their poles to make the sign of the cross without putting any slack in their lines.
"Hmmm," Roma huffs, holding her Miller Lite, watching Bobby's ashes go this way and that.
"What?" John asks.
"Bobby's schizophrenia," she laughs with dancing eyes.
That's irreverent reverence right there and it really is how I prefer my stumbling towards the light I believe to exist.
I stick to the basics and don't take the layers of theology, christology, dogma, religious expectations too seriously, spending most of my time poking fun at the faith I hold so dear.
Jesus lived historically and lives still though I have no idea how.
His main message was "this is what it's like to be the son of God and you can be adopted into the family and do it too if you wish."
The reason you can is because God is love you can be love too if you keep at it.
Love conquers all!
That's what I believe and how I try to live.
The rest is unnecessary fluff and we all have far too much of it in our lives.
I deal with it by poking fun at it in an effort to keep me from taking it too serious.
It's because I start with Jesus' historical life and, God knows, he lambasted the religion of his day,
"Tear down this Temple," Jesus said pointing to the epicenter of the Jewish faith and I'll build it again in three days" (John 2:19).
He says this after criticizing the ways people were making money off religion, at the expense of the poor but completely accepted by the Church!
It says everything Jesus had to say about organized religion ... he had no use for it.
Though I've been in and out of it throughout my life, I've come to have a complete lack of trust when it comes to the organized Church.
Institution exist to perpetuate themselves.
That is their sole purpose and this includes the Church.
Given a choice between helping you or perpetuating it's own existence, any institution, even the Church, will choose itself over you.
That's why Jesus was crucified.
Other things may have come out of it but make no mistake, Jesus was killed because the institutions of his day were threatened by him.
I think he knew he'd be killed to make his point that God transcends institutions and chooses personal relationships rather than institutional, organized ones.
Want to hear my current favorite joke on all this?
Overheard from Jesus as the soldiers are nailing him to the cross ... "Oh c'mom! Your Momma hits nails harder than that!"
If you think that's bad, imagine the horror of the political and religious leaders of his day heard the words of Jesus, "TEAR IT DOWN" and it's presumed he's challenging his followers to do so ... "AND I'LL REBUILD IT IN 3 DAYS" but it'll be without walls because love can't be contained.
So they killed him rather than run the risk of having their money making Church destroyed.
Yet true to his word, three days later Jesus returns without a building, and carries on as though nothing had happened.
Seventy years later the Temple was torn down by a Government no longer needing it but Jesus carries on still.
I think it best to follow that example.
If it's God you want to be with then you start by ruling out the places he has little use for ... Temples being at the top of the list.
It's best to look in more immediate places for God, like in front of your face.
A Sunday School teacher asked her kids class, "Where is Jesus today?"
"He's in Heaven!" Mary gleefully yells.
"He's in our hearts!" Sam joyfully screams.
"He's in the bathroom," Gordon explains.
"The bathroom?" the teacher asks as the rest of the class turn to stare at Gordon.
"Well ... every morning my father gets up, bangs on the bathroom door and yells, "Jesus Christ! You still in there!"
