The World Cup of Liturgical Abuses

Inspired by an offering from Patrick Coffin, I want to run a World Cup of Liturgical Abuses (either by the priest or the people). To make it interesting I only want people to vote for abuses that they have actually experienced (e.g. most of us have led sheltered lives, and missed out on clown masses), although it will be a lucky reader who has not come across any of the ones in my list.

So far we have the following contestants, but nominations of others are invited in the next week, either via the comments below or replying to @bruveccles on Twitter.

Ready?

Liturgical dancing

Female altar-servers

Communion in the hand

Clowns

Puppets

Sign of peace

"Let's not!"

Holding hands in the Our Father

Orans position for the Our Father

Standing for the consecration

Bad hymns (Schutte, Haugen etc.)

Introducing ourselves to our neighbours

Idols

Clapping

Reading out Vatican II documents

Changing words in the liturgy

Guitars

Balloons

Of course, you may actually like some/all of these, but that is not my problem.

The voting on Twitter will begin on Monday 25th May, once next week's exciting Laudato Si' celebrations (to be the subject of a future post?) have died down and everyone has sobered up again.

Incidentally, I think I have seen eight of the above. Can anyone beat that?

Believers of every religion unite!

Pope Francis: I would like to remind you that on 14 May, believers of every religion are invited to unite themselves spiritually in a day of prayer, fasting and works of charity, to implore God to help humanity overcome the coronavirus pandemic.

And what a response we're seeing. Not many Catholics, admittedly, as when Pope Francis asks them to do something, they will usually do the opposite. So it's a holiday from prayer, a time to feast like Cardinal Dolan, and we shall see no works of charity - the sick, the poor, and those in trouble can jolly well take care of themselves for a day.

But other religions are not so stubborn.

May Prince Philip save us from the virus!

Jim, of the Yaohnanen tribe of Vanuatu (formerly New Scunthorpe) is in no doubt that his God Prince Philip, although not recognised by the Catholic Church, will come to his aid and drive his mighty four-wheeled chariot over the demon Flu Manchu. Eccles: They're not cannibals, are they? Editor: No, although they sometimes have their relations for dinner. Jim is very impressed by Pope Francis's ecumenical outreach, although obviously for him there is no god but Philip.

And now hymn number 44, "Give me your heart tonight."

Massimo, a leading Aztec theologian, is also very enthusiastic about the Pope's call to prayer, and he has sharpened his knife specially for the occasion. "Now is a time for all believers to come together," he says. "There are only minor theological differences between us, and these should not stop us from seeing the common ground. After all, even the Anglicans are also taking part, and they don't believe anything at all."

May Pachamama protect us.

Lastly, we spoke to Shaman Austen of the cult of Pachamama. "If the Pope were not a Catholic, then I am sure that he would enter into full membership of our church," he explained. "Like him, we are South American in origin, sceptical about some of the claims of Christianity, and fascinated by the way that Mother Earth is suffering from carbon footprints, plastic straws, and the eternally youthful Greta Garbage of Sweden."

So there we have it. Get praying - it doesn't matter which God you choose, so why not try a different one just for a change? All praise be to ... please fill in as necessary!

---

Late news: Brentwood leads the way. What a fine collection of idols!

Where's Alexander Tschugguel when you need him?

St Elizabeth the LGBT activist

Hello, guys and gals, I'm Fr Arthur your new "Yoof Priest", and I'm preaching the official "Yoof Sermon" at the "Yoof Mass" or "Gig" as we Yoof Priests call it. Taking my lead from my hero, Fr Dom of Brentwood, I take as my text today the passage from Luke 1, where St Elizabeth was persecuted for being an LGBT activist.

St Elizabeth, an inspiration to LGBTQISJXYZαβPQRAREYOUSTILLREADING™∇⊕ZZZ999 people everywhere!

As Fr Dom so wisely tells us, Elizabeth was shunned for being barren. But why should she have been barren? Was she a lesbian? Or even bisexual? Perhaps she was "trans", and would have preferred to be called Elijah, or maybe a gender-neutral "El"? Yes, that was the real cause of her persecution, the homophobic tradition in 1st century Judaea!

Nowadays being a lesbian is of course no barrier to conceiving. Science has conquered nature, and we can make children in test-tubes who do not know who their parents are. And I am sure that many of you yooful ones here present would have preferred things that way! In future this will be the usual way to produce kids - in giant hatcheries - and sex will be reserved for pleasure as God intended!

Aldous Huxley. A dead white male but his "Brave New World" showed us how to advance!

Anyway, in the end Elizabeth gave way to the fascist hegemony of her times, and God gave her a child. And what a disaster that was! John the Baptist! Someone with distinctly old-fashioned views on marriage, a scruffy old drop-out who came to a bad end. The least said about him the better!

Oh, excuse me, my mobile's ringing. Hello, bishop? What's that people have been saying about me? A complete fruitcake? That's not nice... All right, that's all for today, lads and lasses.

© Fr Arthur 2017

The Pilgrim's Ogress 7: The Trouble with Butlers

Continued from Part 6

The story so far: Eccles and his Aunt Moly are on a pilgrimage. Now P.G. Wodehouse takes up the story.

"Oh dash it all, Aunt Moly," I said, "Do I really have to go and visit Uncle Thomas at Brentwood Castle? We're supposed to be on a pilgrimage. I've been looking forward to seeing the shrine of St Damian Thompson at Reading, and visiting my old chum Des Pond of Slough."

"Eccles, you woeful idiot," replied my aged relative, "Lord McMahon needs our help urgently. His whole life is in disarray, and he believes that his prize pig, the Empress of Brentwood, is dying."

"Well, needs must when the Devil drives, as the jolly old Bard puts it," I conceded. I summoned my manservant, Bosco, who shimmered in with some life-restoring Mystic Zuhlsdorf coffee.

"Excuse me for a moment, sir," said Bosco. "May I take the liberty of informing you that your new tartan biretta really does not suit you?"

"It really does not suit you, sir."

I am used to criticism from Bosco: usually it takes the form of remarks such as "May I remind you, sir, that you are not saved as I am, because Jesus has not chosen to visit you?" These I can safely ignore, as Bosco gets some strange ideas from his attendance at the Calvary Chapel; but when it comes to criticisms of my taste in headgear, then I feel I must put my foot down. Explaining coldly to Bosco that my biretta had been greatly admired by Ms Katharine Jefferts Schori, who writes the fashion column for the Episcopalian Times, I sent him off to buy some railway tickets for Brentwood.

What the well-dressed cleric is wearing.

We arrived at Brentwood Castle, where the door was opened by my uncle, Lord McMahon himself. "Uncle Thomas," I said. "Opening your own door, now?"

"Eccles, how nice to see you!" sighed my exhausted uncle. "It's my new butler, Liturgist. He's taken over the running of Brentwood Castle, and gives all the orders now."

"Ah, like the unjust steward chap in the Bible, what?" I had once won a prize for scripture knowledge at my prep school, and the parable of the cove in question (Luke 16, I fancy) was well known to me. "He fiddled a few things with his chief's debtors, and at the end the boss was very pleased with him. I'd have been furious."

The unjust butler.

"Yes, that's Liturgist. Everything has been changed in the running of the Castle. He's told the servants to disobey all my instructions. Here he is now."

Liturgist came in with a tray containing refreshments for Uncle Thomas, Aunt Moly, and myself. Instead of the usual whisky-and-soda, gin and wine that we had been expecting, we were served with strawberry milkshakes.

I looked in vain for my manservant Bosco to save the situation. Since the butler Liturgist had just broken into an impromptu dance, the Vati-can-can, Uncle Thomas hastily agreed to escort us to the pigsties, to see the Empress of Brentwood.

The Empress of Brentwood.

Knowing that Uncle Thomas regularly won prizes for his porcines, I had been expecting to see a healthy obese animal, but all we found was a scrawny-looking pig. The creature was clearly malnourished: instead of a well-balanced diet containing all that was necessary for nourishment, the poor beast was chewing on some old copies of the Tablet and minutes of ACTA meetings. It was looking decidedly the worse for wear.

A most unhealthy diet.

At that moment, Bosco, my "saved gentleman's personal saved gentleman", arrived, bearing a delicious dish of cupcakes, rhubarb crumble and custard, as recommended in Thompson's The care of the pig.

"Where did you get that food?" asked my Uncle Thomas. "Whenever I try to feed the Empress, my butler Liturgist gives contrary orders."

"I think we shall not be troubled by Mr Liturgist again," replied Bosco soothingly. "I have induced him to leave your employment, indicating to him that his unique talents would be more appreciated by Lord Paul Inwood, the son of the Duke of Cacophony.

"Bosco, I take my hat off to you!" I exclaimed.

"I would be most grateful if you did so, sir," replied my faithful employee. "As I said, it really does not suit you, sir."

Continued in Part 8.

How to praise the Lord

A sermon from Fr Arthur of the church of St Daryl the Apostate.

Many of you will have seen the Pope's recent homily on the fruitfulness of praise, telling people not to despise good people who praise the Lord in a spontaneous manner. Deacon, would you mind holding back on your spontaneous cries of "Hallelujah! I been saved!" for a few minutes, so that people can hear me preach? Just go back to sticking pins in that wax dummy of Brother Eccles. Thanks.

Fr Arthur releases an "emu of peace".

Now, we in the church of St Daryl interpret the Pope's words as meaning that you can sing whatever you like, and it is acceptable to the Lord. There's no need to look for good hymns with well-constructed melody and harmony, with verses that rhyme and scan appropriately, and which contain at least one new idea in every line. No, the Lord likes it if we sing "Walk in the Light" thirty times in one hymn, without ever bothering to analyse what walking in the Light actually involves, or why exactly it is a good thing to do. The same applies if we sing "Kum ba yah" thirty times. Who needs the intellectual hymns of a Newman or Wesley? It's sheer snobbery to prefer them.

You know, the Lord wouldn't mind if we just sang "The Laughing Policeman". Let's do that now.

Oh, be joyful in the Lord!

I know a fat old policeman,
He's always on our street.
A fat and jolly red-faced man,
He really is a treat.
He's too kind for a policeman,
He's never known to frown.  
And everybody says
He is the happiest man in town!

A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Ooo hoo hoo hoo ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Ooo hoo hoo hoo ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Ooo hoo hoo hoo ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. 

There! That did us all a power of good, didn't it? I'll bet that God was laughing too! That's the joy of praise for you, even if we're not sure exactly who we're praising here. Even the deacon joined in the chorus.

We take the same attitude to the liturgy. A committee of scholars has produced a new English translation, faithful to the Latin original. Phooey! As the great Fr Butler of Brentwood has said, the Vatican II Council (crosses himself reverently, and genuflects at the sacred name) allows us to use the vernacular, if we want to, and this means "informal, colloquial speech". Cor, strike a light, missus!

So, let's have another hymn. This one comes with a liturgical dance.

Liturgical dancing.

Chim chiminey,
Chim chiminey,
Chim chim cher-ee!
A sweep is as lucky
As lucky can be!

That was good, wasn't it? Of course in this hymn the sweep is a metaphor for all Christian people. Well, let's not be judgemental here - he represents all people of faith, regardless of what it is or whether they have any. God is indeed bringing us luck!

By the way, next Sunday we'll have one of our special "fun" Masses. The deacon and I will be dressing up as a pantomime horse - I'll take the front part of course - and we ask you all to enter into the spirit of the occasion. After all, what is a holy day, but a holiday? Let's parteeeeee....

The priest and deacon on their way to Mass.