This is me, Eccles

This is me, Eccles
This is me, Eccles

Thursday, 15 April 2021

Jesuits and Latinophobia

Warning: this blog contains scenes of explicit Latin, and should not be made available to children and young people.

It's been a bad week for Jesuits. First, Pope Francis SJ managed to introduce a version of the Our Father which contained deliberate translation errors. In the words of his Latin teacher, back in 1940s Argentina:

Bergoglio Minor! Et - and. Ne - with the subjunctive, a negative imperative. Nos - we, us. Inducas - subjunctive of induco, lead in, bring in. In - when it takes the accusative, into. Tentationem - accusative, temptation. What does that give us?

"Do not abandon us to temptation", Sir?

No, boy! Bend over! THWACK! It means "do not lead us into temptation". THWACK!

Ouch! Yarooh! Chiz.

Shortbread Eating Primer

The Pope's personal copy of the Shorter Latin Primer.

But enough of 1940s Argentina. The scene shifts to 2020s USA, where Fr Tommy Reese SJ is trying to take over the mantle of the late lamented Hans Küng, having already scored some Küng points for getting into trouble over his views on abortion, homosexuality, birth control (for), Jesuit control (against), etc. Let's see what he has to say about the traditional Latin Mass.

It is time to return to bishops the authority over the Tridentine liturgy in their dioceses. The church needs to be clear that it wants the unreformed liturgy to disappear and will only allow it out of pastoral kindness to older people who do not understand the need for change. Children and young people should not be allowed to attend such Masses.

Reese, Biden Obama

You can tell a man by the company he keeps.

At first sight, we thought this was from a rival Catholic blog, maybe Tommy is Saved, similar to the well-known satirical blogs The Horan of Babylon Bee and Joe Biden's State of the Onion. So we telephoned Tommy to check.

Ansaphone: Hello, you have reached the desk of Father Thomas Reese LGBTSJ: you can call me Tommy. I am away on an Ignatian Yoga Camping Trip but you can leave a message. Please press 1 if you want me to explain why pro-life views are bunk, 2 if you want to hear me talk about gay orgies, 3 if you would like to hear some new Catholic doctrine, 4 if you want to speak to me on my retreat at Fishwrap Park.

I pressed 4 and the great man answered!

Eccles: Hello, Father. Pax tecum!


Someone spoke Latin to a Jesuit!

I heard sounds of hysterics and the sound of Fr Tommy collapsing on the ground. Other voices could be heard:
"He said 'pax tecum' to Fr Tommy!" 
"You've done it as well!" 
"Mea culpa!" 
"Hey, stop speaking Latin, there are young people present! 
We don't want it as a lingua franca!"
"Help! Mommy!"
"Now you're doing it! You'll be a persona non grata!"
"Tommy's gone into a coma. Give him the kiss of life, someone! 
Look, don't all rush at once! Ten minutes each."
At that point we lost the phone connection. So, I never did complete my liturgical discussions with Fr Tommy.


  1. I have only one question - 'Cui bono?' Sorry.

  2. I look forward to your piece on Latinists and Jesuitophobia.

  3. De gustibus non est disputandum.

  4. Comoediae nobis Bruvverum Ecclesum et Franciscus Pontifex praebet Ecclesia Petri.

  5. Going off topic, if I may, here's a priest in Wisconsin telling his parishioners not to get vaccinated. Maybe you've already seen it, but if not, it's worth a look:

  6. Dr. Fausti Frankenstein

    One dark & stormy night I arrived at my ancestral Alma Mater and was admitted by a pop-eyed hunchback who led me down steep stairs into the University of Pitt pit.
    Amidst frothing test tubes, a little man in a white coat was absorbed in his dissection & resection of small samples of something strange.

    “Uncle, it is I, your nephew & namesake, Victor Fausti Frankenstein from the NIH. It is time for the renewal of your CDC-NIH funding grant. Igor suggested I visit your lab in person.”

    The little man behind the mask muttered, “Welcome to the Pitt & the pendulum of cutting edge Science.”

    “What are you doing there, Uncle Fausti?”

    “I have created human life ex nihilo.”

    “But Uncle, ex nihilo, nihil fit. Nothing comes from nothing.”

    “No need to translate. I attended Fordham with a degree in Neo-Jesuitism. I admit to sewing human fetal scalp tissue onto mice that subsequently grow human baby hair. But watch me give my creation the spark of life.”

    I watched in horror as he gave a mouse an electric charge that stood its human hair, like mine, on end.

    “This is only the beginning,” the doctor laughed. “Aborted babies are too precious to waste. Getting people to believe one remote-controlled abortion was performed for the development of multiple vaccines set the precedent. Now it’s a lucrative biotech industry. Just ask Planned Parenthood.”

    “What about adult & placental cord stem cells to cure disease? AVM Biotechnology has had success---”

    “But I have founded the Fountain of Youth! Today it’s toupees, tomorrow wrinkle-free baby skins. Eternal life begins in the lab.”

    “But Uncle Fausti, when I tell people what you’re doing to babies, they won’t pay taxe$ for it.”

    My uncle fixed me with a steely-eyed gaze as he advanced upon me with a scalpel. “Look, here’s the deal: If you keep quiet, you’ll get a profit share in my Fountain of Youth.”

    Edging away, I attempted to mollify the madman. “If people are just material to manipulate, then life has no meaning. Do we not have souls? What about love? Are you trying to play God?”

    “Playing God?” Dr. Fausti cackled Kamala-like. “Try Satan!”

    Aghast, I tripped on the stairs and prepared to be scalped. Suddenly, Igor sprang upon the doctor and jabbed him with an injection of some sort.

    “Is it a sedative or poison?” I gasped.

    “Yes, it’s a mixed double dose of mRNA given twice annually.”

    “Sounds painful,” I mumbled in confusion.

    Escaping from UPitt, I vowed never to return, severing all ties to Mad Scientism. If I tell the world, will NIH & UPitt be prevented from carrying on Dr. Fausti Frankenstein’s ghoulish experiments? After all, the best laid schemes o’ mice & men gang aft agley...