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<\/a>Men\u2019s group may be the butt of jokes, at least among some women in the parish, and I have made light fun of it in other posts, including this one<\/a>. There is a certain amount of oxygen wasted nearly every week arguing issues that are fundamentally unarguable; there is some ruffling of feathers, some strutting and posturing as among fighting cocks.<\/p>\nBut men\u2019s group also has a way of bringing me up against myself in a way that nothing else in my church week does, not even confession. And for that, as well as for the pure fellowship, I return as often as I can.<\/p>\n
This is partly because Ferde<\/a> is the founder and the sitting president of men\u2019s group\u2014although next week some of us will put our names into a hat to replace Ferde, as well as Jonathan, our secretary<\/a>. They have served long (and well) enough. It is time for a couple of other guys to preside, make the coffee (the president\u2019s chore), and organize the agenda (the secretary\u2019s).<\/p>\n Being at any table where Ferde presides is like sitting in the presence of an Old Testament judge. Ferde brooks no nonsense, and the meeting moves along purposefully under his gaze. It starts on time. It ends on time. Add to this the fact that Ferde is my dear friend but also in some ways my conscience, and when I slip up, as I have in a certain recent post (don\u2019t ask), Ferde lets me know it in uncertain terms. I am just unsure enough of my standing as a recent convert, also just proud enough of my standing as a recent convert with a blog<\/i>, that I alternately quail and bristle when Ferde glares. Please don\u2019t tell him I said so.<\/p>\n
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