September 8, 2005 - A Prayer for Justice Rehnquist

© 2005 by John Varley; all rights reserved

 

O Dear Heavenly Father ...

Yes, I know, O Lord, for a filthy atheist I’ve sure been praying to You a lot lately. It’s just that there have been so many situations that only You seem capable of handling, if You exist. Earlier this year I prayed for
Pope John Paul II, and for those in Your Congress who voted to save the life of Terry Schiavo.

Actually, I don’t really need to take up Your valuable time on this one, O Lord. Maybe one of Your servants could handle this prayer. So, could You connect me with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates? Oh ... sure, I’ll hold.

Oh, jeez, no ... sorry, Lord, didn’t mean to take Your Son’s name in vain, but really, do you have to play “It’s a Small World After All” while I’m waiting?

What’s that? Wait, let me write this down. To report a
mortal sin, press one. To report a venial sin, press two. For rosary repair, press three. To purchase an indulgence, press four, and have your credit card handy. If you have a request and know the extension of the angel in charge, enter the number now. To speak to an angelic service representative, press five.

Da dum, da dum, da dum ... small world after all, it’s a small world after all, it’s a small world after ...

Oh, hello, Saint Peter? Hi, I was just sending up this prayer to alert you that somebody will be coming your way soon, and I think you ought to be on your guard. You’ll recognize him by the four gold stripes on each sleeve of his black robe. You might be interested to know he’s the only Chief Justice of the Supreme Court ever to wear those stripes. He got the idea from a
Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, if you can believe it, Pete. (Can I call you Pete?) A little grandiloquent, if you ask me, considering that his vote counted for no more than the other eight. The sin of Pride, maybe?

When this guy arrives, Pete, I’d advise you to have a couple of hefty cherubs on hand. Tell him to put his hands on the Pearly Gates and assume the position, and then pat the son-of-a-bitch down. Somewhere on his person you’ll find copies of his decisions. Pay particular attention to the brief he wrote while a law clerk to
Robert Jackson, another Supreme Court Justice, where he defends the “separate but equal” doctrine of Plessy vs. Ferguson, and thus argued strongly against Brown vs. Board of Education. He later swore under oath that he only wrote it because Jackson asked him to, a blatant lie because Jackson voted for BvBoE. If this guy had had his way, Pete, we’d still have segregated schools in America, and water fountains and rest rooms and buses and lunch counters and hotels. Throughout his career he voted consistently against every civil rights measure. In 1960, working for Barry Goldwater, he led efforts to challenge the qualifications of black voters. It is rumored that he goose-stepped around Stanford shouting “Heil, Hitler!” around Jewish students. I can’t confirm that, but it should be right there in your book.

Correct me if I’m wrong, Pete, but back when I believed in you and your Boss, we sang a song: “Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.” Did I get it wrong? Was it really “All are separate but more or less equal in His sight?” Or was it “Some are more precious than others in His sight?” Would you ask Jesus, next time you see Him, and get back to me on that?

Listen, Pete, if you let this guy in, before long he’s going to be agitating to seat black people on the backside of clouds, have them sit in the back of the heavenly choir. He’ll want separate but equal neighborhoods for them, and he’ll outlaw playing The Blues on harps. He’ll have the cherubs pull blacks over for “flying while black,” and make it harder for black folks to get their wings.

Take it from me, Saint P. You don’t want this guy around. He was nothing but trouble down here, and he’ll be more of the same up there. So pull the lever on that Heavenly trap door, sound the whoopee buzzer, have
Chuck Barris hit that great big gong. Get out that Vaudeville crook and pull his racist ass offstage. Tell him he didn’t say the secret woid (tolerance), the duck ain’t comin’ down. He has to go directly to Hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200.

I’m not going to petition Satan in this prayer, Pete. That isn’t up to me. I do know that Hell is a rigorously segregated place, nine levels and a lot of neighborhoods, if
Dante is to be believed. I’m sure Satan will find a place for him. I can only hope it will be right next to Strom Thurmond, eternally chopping cotton under the blistering sun without a drop to drink nor a place to lay his head.

Let him keep the robe.

Amen.

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