I don't know anyone who cares about the TLM

Reprinted from America Rag with some edits.

By Kevin Clarke

I do not miss the Traditional Latin Mass. I have never been to one, I do not know anyone who has, and I am not even very sure what it is. From my Big Boy's Book of the Roman Empire, I'm guessing that it is some evil ritual involving human sacrifices, possibly throwing people to the lions, with everyone wearing togas while reciting "Hic haec hoc". But frankly I can't be bothered to find out, and after all this is an America Rag article, and so facts would be a little out of place anyway!

So, let's assume, as is reasonable, that nobody actually goes to a TLM, and that it is just a code phrase for "We hate Pope Francis", which is what social media seem to be full of these days. Admittedly, there were people who went to primitive masses in the Dark Ages before the 1960s, when everyone lived in mud huts, and there were no intelligent people like me around. Some of them are still alive, deaf, blind, and insane, pretending that they know what odd code phrases like "Gloria's Excellent, Dear" and "Agnes Day" mean.

Wait until Herr Austen Ivereigh finds out where you are, Agnes Day!

No, anyone who uses the phrase "Traditional Latin Mass" is using an anti-Francis code phrase, just as "Let's Go, Brandon" is a way of persecuting that devout Catholic Joe Biden - another hero to all America Rag readers. You see these loathsome phrases all over Twitter, and even on church websites.

I have never experienced the dread "clown Mass," so often reported in stories of the "Novus Ordo," and I cannot imagine what they are referring to. It's true that I put on a red nose, fright wig, and oversize trousers when I attend Mass - oh, and I fill the trousers with custard, as recommended in Pope Francis's "Trousers Custardes" (I am told) - but that doesn't make it a clown mass! And I NEVER do liturgical dances when my trousers are full of custard. Well, hardly ever. So you can be sure that the masses I attend are reverent and dignified, and much better than anything there was before.

"Kevin, can you give us a few paragraphs about the TLM?"

As my hero Michael Sean Winters, a columnist for the National Devout Catholic Fishwrap, has already pointed out, the attacks on Pope Francis from proponents of the Latin Mass are evidence that all people who like the old rite are thugs - and therefore it was time to close it down. After all, we must Build Back Better, and that means rejecting the old ways. If it makes a few old dinosaurs unhappy, then that's all to the good, surely?

Apparently, some people find the old rite spiritually nurturing, or do I mean nourishing? Nutritious, maybe? Well, REALLY! Do people go to church for spiritual nourishment? Good grief, next you'll be letting people kneel in prayer, to remain silent, or to be reverent. Surely, it's just an excuse for feeling superior over the rest of us, who go to church to chatter with friends, slouch around in the pews, and listen to sermons telling us how good we are?

Anyway, if you see someone claiming to like the TLM, they are probably just an illusion and you should seek medical help. They don't exist!

Can the Curia reform Pope Francis?

The Curia - essentially the Vatican's Civil Service - is a body with a long and distinguished history. It was founded by Christ Himself, when he gave Peter the keys to Heaven and - as a consolation prize - passed on the keys of His filing-cabinets to the other disciples, saying "Keep an eye on him."

These filing-cabinets were made by St Joseph the carpenter.

However, popes come and go, while the Curia endureth for ever. When a new pope is elected, he often arrives with new and exciting ideas about how the Catholic Church should be reformed. It is the duty of the Curia to make sure that God's business is carried on as usual, and nothing changes.

Cardinal Humphrey Appleby explains.

Says Cardinal Appleby, the Permanent Secretary to the College of Cardinals: "When Pope Francis came on the scene, he was full of new ideas that would have been disastrous to implement. For example, he wanted the Swiss Guard to invade the Falkland Islands, he wanted to introduce the tango as a compulsory part of the Mass, and he wanted the cardinals to dress like the Argentine football team. We dealt with these ideas by our standard method, saying 'Yes, Holy Father. What an interesting idea. We must set up a committee to look into these plans.' We also manage to divert the pope by giving him long documents in Latin to read: since he he failed his Latin Certificado General de Educación Secundaria we knew he would never get through them."

A group of cardinals poses in their proposed new vestments.

Of course, the Curia's blocking tactics are not always successful. When Pope John XXIII came up with his own modest wish-list of changes, the Permanent Secretary of the time, Cardinal Arnold Robinson, made the mistake of persuading him to convene the Second Vatican Council. For three years the politicians of the Catholic Church quarrelled with each other - during which time John himself left his Ministerial post, being promoted to a new position in Heaven - and it looked at first as though this time-wasting device would have the desired effect. Numerous reports and memoranda were produced - dignified by the name of constitutions, declarations and decrees - and in the end they were filed away unread, as intended. However, the Church still managed to change in bizarre ways unforeseen by Cardinal Robinson, who was forced to resign in disgrace.

"Yes, Holy Father." The Curia humours a new pope.

Cardinal Appleby continues: "The last two years have been very difficult for us. Normally I get to vet all papal speeches, to make sure that the Holy Father doesn't commit himself to any significant new policies. However, the present incumbent has become very adept at making off-the-cuff statements, usually in aeroplanes, causing severe embarrassment to us." Although this has not been publicly admitted, it seems that Cardinal Bernard Woolley, the Pope's Principal Private Secretary, is looking into the possibility of lacing Francis's in-flight gin and tonic with a powerful sleeping drug, so that he sleeps during flights, rather than re-inventing Catholicism.

"No new doctrine today, guys. Must... lie... down..."

Which brings us finally to the Extraordinary Synod of 2014, and the General Synod of 2015. This is part of Cardinal Appleby's high-risk strategy for blocking the pope's ideas for reform. Everyone - except, apparently Vincent Nichols - remembers those confusing votes which decided (or not) the statement to be issued by the Extraordinary Synod under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. The crusading idealism of Cardinal Kasper came head-to-head with the more conventional orthodoxy of Cardinal Burke and his allies in the Resistance. Appleby himself is proposing that Cardinal Kasper be sent on a round-the-world fact-finding mission, from which he will probably never return.

"Listen very carefully, Cardinal Burke, I shall say this only once."

Still, Pope Francis remains unreformed, and all Catholics must pray that the Curia manages to keep him on-message. His predecessor, Pope Benedict, now in retirement, admits that he "never managed to get round Appleby," and perhaps in the end Francis will be similarly thwarted.