In the annals of American history, few figures embody the art of political maneuvering quite like John Edward "Parson" Massey, the quintessential embodiment of the gospel of political flip-flopping. Born with a name that seems to suggest virtue and morality, this Baptist preacher took to the political stage in Virginia with all the fiery zeal of a hellfire sermon, only to serve up a heaping portion of “do as I say, not as I do” when it came to the more sordid aspects of political allegiance. Massey initially strutted onto the scene as a leading light of the Readjusters, a group so ephemeral that it seemed to exist purely as a plot twist in the grand narrative of Virginia’s post-Civil War struggles. One might expect a preacher to rally the sheep and guide them to a moral high ground. Yet, Massey’s foray into the world of politics was less about salvation and more about saving his own skin—and political career—by whatever means necessary. Six years into his role as Lieutenant Governor, it was clear that if there were a heaven for opportunistic politicians, Massey had a first-class ticket. When the "Big Four," a contingent of disillusioned gentlemen, found themselves at odds with the politically hallowed ground of William Mahone—the former Confederate general and Republican overlord—it was merely a footnote in the playbook of Massey’s political tactics. The good Parson, with the grace of a yielding oil lamp, supposedly supported their revolt, much like how one would sprinkle salt on a wound—painful yet oh-so-satisfying, especially when drama ensues. One is left to ponder whether his backing was borne of conviction or merely of the desire to hitch his wagon to a more favorable star. What defined Massey’s political career wasn’t a steadfast allegiance to a set of principles but rather his uncanny ability to adapt—or flip-flop—based on the prevailing winds of public opinion and partisan dynamics. Was he a Democrat? Certainly, whenever it suited his ambitions. But as the tides turned and new opportunities arose, one must imagine him standing at the water’s edge, casting anxious glances, ready to switch robes and ideologies if necessary. The only thing more fluid than his political stance was perhaps the wine served at the countless ecclesiastical gatherings he surely attended—blessing the congregation and quietly pocketing whatever political donations rolled in. As we delve deeper into the tale of Massey, we cannot escape the impression that religion and politics danced a waltz, one that would make even the most seasoned huckster sit up and take note. This preacher, who swore to uphold the tenets of honesty and piety, was as slippery as a wet soap in a baptistry. His autobiography, published posthumously in 1909, sits like a tragicomic chronicle of a man who spun yarns, oscillated between sincerity and sheer opportunism, and ultimately left future generations scratching their heads at the distance between his professed values and the actions he took. So, as we raise a glass to John Edward "Parson" Massey, let us toast not to his political successes but to the veritable buffet of hypocrisy that defines our earthly existence. Let us acknowledge that although he may have been buried in the hallowed grounds of Charlottesville's Oakhill cemetery, his legacy lives on in the power struggle reminiscent of a Sunday sermon—long on conviction but short on accountability. After all, few things resonate quicker in the world of politics than a good revival meeting, complete with a preacher willing to say anything and switch directions in mere heartbeats. Cheers to the Parson’s ploy, the gospel of political flip-flopping, echoing through the ages like a weary refrain.