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This stained glass window in St Gummarus Church in Lier, Belgium, depicts Jesus and the Apostles at the Last Supper, with Judas Iscariot in front.

Meet Bishop Boyd Beesley Bird.

Bishop Bird is a bald, 220-pound newspaper columnist who loves baseball, poetry and T-bone steak.

Some think he’s me. But I’ve never been a bishop.

Still, we do share some traits.

Like me, his ears and teeth are shot. Loud children make his eyes water. And newfangled stuff makes his scalp itch.

He finally understands the meaning of the words “frail existence” in the hymn “O My Father.”

Bishop Bird also has dozens of regrets and little secrets he never shares with anyone.

Except with me, of course.

Here are some recent dispatches from the world and words of Bishop Bird:

Called to Spike

“Life,” Bishop Bird told

a band of Beehive girls,

“is a game of volleyball.

You can only win

If you’re willing to serve."

Semper Fido

Bishop Bird closed his Bible,

convinced the Good Book

was like a good dog:

It was welcoming.

Always available.

It seemed to say,

“When we’re together

the world disappears.”

Gospel Gold

In the public library

Christian books filled 20 shelves.

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But for Bishop Bird, the gospel

came down to a couple of lines:

Forsake the golden calf.

Embrace the golden rule.

Brain Doodles

During dry meetings

the bishop composed

rhymes in his mind

to pass the time

(Like that one).


Sister Bird surveyed

her husband’s messy desk.

“What a hodgepodge,” she said.

The bishop patted her hand.

“One person’s hodgepodge,” he said,

“is another’s potpourri.”


As it happened,

only the Primary tots

(and Bishop Bird)

could hear the word “scary”

when people said “Judas Iscariot.”