The adventures of Amelia

Amelia, the AI creature who is mainly an advocate for traditional English values, was recently rebranded as a traditionally-minded Catholic. Here are some of her adventures, as seen on Twitter.

Note that originally she was not dressed appropriately, but she later improved her costume.

Amelia had a polite word with the great Austen Ivereigh, hoping to persuade him not to be so nasty to Bishop Barron.

Then Amelia had an unhappy encounter with Cardinal "Tucho" Fernández. What on earth could he have said to her?

It was Sunday, and of course Amelia went to Mass. However, her kneeling got her into trouble with Bishop Michael Martin of Charlotte.

Being a good Catholic, Amelia is anxious to keep up with the most important aspects of the faith. Thus, she had a meeting with Sr Nathalie Becquart, who has devoted her whole life to synodality. The good sister told her, "One day we shall find out what the point is!"

A bad day for Amelia when she went to visit Fr James Martin LGBTSJ. Can you see what the problem is?

Finally, on St Blaise's Day, Amelia paid a visit to Cardinal Cupich. It seems that they disagreed on a few issues.

All pictures compiled by Copilot.

Eccles gets a Blaised throat

Yesterday was the feast of St Blaise, and February 3rd is a very appropriate time of year to celebrate him, since he is the one to go to for throat problems. I myself have had various coughs and colds throughout this winter, so I went up after Mass yesterday to have my throat blessed.

St Blaise with 4th century medical equipment.

Now, what outcome should I have expected? If Jesus had healed me in person, then I would have leapt up rejoicing; but clearly one expects slightly less from a retired Irish priest fumbling around with two candles, even if he is somehow appealing to St Blaise for help.

Still, for a few hours I did feel quite a lot better: no coughing and only a slightly sore throat. Maybe it was psychological, or maybe Fr Jack had managed to invoke a minor miracle.

Now, the Bible itself doesn't have many positive things to say about throats. For example, there's Psalm 69: I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.

St Paul (Romans 3) is also somewhat discouraging: Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips. Who is he referring to? Well, all of us, it seems.

Cleopatra prepares to take delivery of an asp.

So here we are at a new day. The throat is slightly better, perhaps, but still not cured. Perhaps someone can advise me: is the St Blaise cure simply a matter of time? Or should I put this one down as a failure (like when, as a child, I asked God to mend my bicycle lamp and He refused)?

Well, there's always Lourdes, I suppose, but it seems a long way to go for a cough.

Prayer 2: Who do I pray to?

Our mini-series on prayer continues. More correctly, the title of this piece should be "To whom do I pray?" and if you didn't spot that you may be the sort of person who says ungrammatical prayers. Be warned.

The first thing to note is that not all prayers are uttered to God, or even to the saints. For example, if Giles Fraser comes on Thought for the Day, telling us what Christ thought about Greek debt, the reaction of millions is to shout at the radio: "Shut up, you clown! Just shut up!" This is clearly a prayer addressed to Giles himself.

Our Fraser, who art always on Radio 4...

Then again, if your car breaks down, you may well pray to it. "Come on! What's wrong with you?" Frankly, this sort of prayer is less likely to work, and your car would benefit from a proper (and not necessarily religious) service.

Right! I warned you!

But let's consider prayers issued in more conventional circumstances. Obviously, some prayers are directed to God, as they should be. "Our Father!" etc. No problem. But then, at least in the Catholic tradition, some are addressed to other members of the congregation: "I confess to almighty God, and to you, my brothers and sisters..." Or, in the Protestant traditions too, "The Lord be with you," then "And also with you" or "And with your spirit". Is this a prayer to God, or just talking about God behind His back?

"It's 'Ite, missa est' from me." ... "And also from him."

Then we come to the vexed question of praying to saints. Catholics like to recite the Hail Mary, pray to guardian angels, and talk to saints. The idea is that these guys may intercede with God, or even perform miracles through delegated divine power. Protestants aren't always too keen on this idea, of course. Brother Bosco of the Calvary Chapel would condemn it all as idolatry, worshipping graven images, etc.

Today being St Blaise's day, this may be a good time to pray for healing of injuries and afflictions of the throat. Luckily, St Blaise is a saint, for a lesser being might say "Look, you've all ignored me for 364 days of the year. Why does everyone have to pester me today?"

A challenge for St Blaise: a giraffe with laryngitis.

Well, one final remark. It may well be OK to pray to saints. However, the next stage of familiarity - holding a séance and summoning them to a darkened room where a load of slightly tipsy dinner-party guests are sitting at a round table holding hands - is OUT. St Blaise may be willing to help with sore throats, but he prefers to remain at a distance, and you will NOT get a better service if you invite him into your home.

"I don't usually do home visits."

So in the next instalment we'll consider what you should say to your chosen prayee.

A medieval French song

The manuscript of a previously-unknown French carol has come to light. It is attributed to the medieval monk Frère Graham Quendrique.

The underdog

Chien j'y sous-chien!
[The singer complains that he is always the underdog.]
Fille d'Islande vif dit farceuse clairet.
[A girl from Iceland says he is lively, but she is a jester who drinks claret.]

The girl from Iceland.

Blé ce spire rite Blaise!
[He invokes St Blaise to condemn a ritual involving binding wheat into coils.]
Ce tour hâtes Enfer!
[This prank hurries one to Hell!]

Beware pagan rituals!

Flou rit va flou!
[Confused, he laughs and goes.]
Fleur de naissance suive graissant merci!
[The flower denotes birth, but afterwards greasing (unction) may follow, thank God!]

Frère Graham looks forward to his deathbed.

Scène de four dur verte,
[The scenery is green, even if toiling at the oven is hard.]
Lourdes en laideur Pilate!
[He goes to Lourdes to atone for the ugliness of Pontius Pilate.]

The ugliness of Pilate.

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H/T brother Ben Trovato for reminding me of Mots d'Heures: Gousse, Rames. An alternative translation of the song may be found here.