Ik@nyt.com

toilet.jpgHet New Yorkse ‘ikje‘ van deze week.

Dear Diary:

I’m a semiretired Episcopal priest, and I was wearing jeans and a sweater as I drove across 69th Street in Manhattan several months ago.

The need to find a lavatory had morphed from urgent to essential when I spied the no-parking zone in front of Christ and St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church near Columbus Avenue.

Really desperate, I parked quickly and headed for the door, which was guarded by a woman about my age, on duty as security for the parish day school. I explained that I was a priest and was intensely anxious to use the bathroom. She surveyed me skeptically, and said, „I’m sorry…”

I started to recite the opening supplication of the Prayer Book liturgy: „Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, from you no secrets are hid…”

She smiled and said, „Down the stairs to your right.”

A few minutes later, on the way back to my car, I promised, “You’ll get your reward in heaven — absolutely.”!

Nils Blatz