Lexington, KY - Irony: an outcome of events contrary to what was, or might have been, expected.
My near obsession
with the proper use of this word, especially in its adjectival or adverbial forms - ironic and ironically -
has caused me much emotional pain and, I'm sure, has got on the nerves of anyone watching local TV newscasts with me.
It has been a trigger for ungentlemanly and perhaps sinful behavior on my part.
I'm sitting in my most comfortable chair and a TV reporter or anchor (the British call them what they are, readers) says something like "Ironically, this same thing happened at this place just a year ago."
I stiffen and lean toward the screen, jaw clenched: "No, you idiot, not ironically; coincidentally, maybe, but not ironically."
One day I got in touch with the news editors of all the local TV stations and politely -
really, politely -
suggested they check their dictionaries for irony in its various forms. My call did no good. I no longer speak to the TV screen on this matter, but it still causes me some pain. (As does "Me and Joe" did this or that, or "He gave a wonderful gift to Sarah and I.")
I just don't like to see irony cheapened. The real thing makes for a good story. Let me tell you one.
Through the first 15 or so years after my ordination I was a pretty conservative and traditionalist priest. The bishop and the Episcopal Diocese of Lexington were like that, too, and so were the majority of people in the congregations I served. We were uncomfortable with big changes. We liked the way things were. I was a deputy to
General Convention when the vote was taken to ordain women priests. I voted no.
I had several arguments to defend my position, but right now I can't think of any of them except that all Jesus' disciples/apostles were men. Though Mary Magdalene was obviously very close to Jesus and was the first to see him after the resurrection and passed the news to the men, that didn't count.
In the years immediately after that vote, no women were ordained in my diocese. But one day I was talking with a fellow priest, who had been a Roman Catholic priest before he married a former Nun and became an Episcopalian. We were discussing the concept of the priest as representative of Christ, and he pointed out the truth that the Incarnation was not that God became a man but that God became a human being. Of course. Why hadn't I seen that?
But, under our bishop, who had been my mentor and whom I loved, the policy of no women priests continued. Still, things were happening. In my congregation for awhile there was a retired priest who was a national leader of opposition to change, and, known only to me, a woman priest from another diocese who would some years later become one of the first women bishops.
But that was just an interesting situation; here begins the irony, and for me a source of great humor: Out of my traditionalist parish of 400-plus members, under my traditionalist (through most of my tenure) leadership, came the first four women to be ordained priest in our diocese. Now there have been others.
And the life of the church has gone on without missing a beat; the gospel has been preached, the sacraments administered, the sick and dying comforted, and the poor ministered to.
In retirement I joined the staff of our cathedral as an associate. The dean was a man, as were his two assistants. When the assistants left, the dean hired two women. When the dean left, the vestry hired a woman to act as interim. So, this one-time champion of the all-male priesthood finds himself the only male on the clergy list.
I figure this is the final irony unless a granddaughter steps forward.