Hopes fade for Michael Coren

Doctors monitoring the state of Michael Coren, the Catholic Evangelical Catholic Anglican Druid writer have expressed themselves as pessimistic about the possibility that he can be saved. Since swimming the Tiber for the fourth time (and becoming eligible for a Frequent Swimmer Gold Card), Mike has shown a distinct inability to laugh at his predicament, and - unlike the rest of us - is taking himself far too seriously.

Cheer up, Mike!

We have made attempts to bring a smile to the face of Mr Coren (after all, he is supposed to be keen on "gay" issues). These include tickling him with a feather during his latest television interview, putting a whoopee cushion on his seat when he attended (Anglican) church, and reading out in a silly voice some passages from Why Catholics are Right. All to no avail, he's still Mike Misery-Guts.

Kasper has just stuck a "Kick me" sign to the back of Fr Rosica.

Contrast this with the demeanour of his Eminence, Cardinal Kasper, who has a somewhat perpetual grin. Wally Kasper's views are not very different from Mike Coren's, but he has managed to avoid donning the old life-jacket and plunging into the Tiber. Of course, some regard the Kasper grin as a sign of mania, but it's better than scowling all the time.

"So then his Holiness saw the sign and gave him a kick!"

Another smiler who makes the good folk at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith throw up their hands in disgust is Fr Timothy Radagast the White, who has been packed off to Rome as consultor to the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace. We were hoping that this was a non-job, designed to keep him out of trouble, but unfortunately Timmy Radish - who, like his namesake keeps coming back leaving a nasty taste - will probably consider that drivelling on about homosexual rights is the main purpose of Catholicism.

"That's funny, I reject Catholic teaching as well."

So, Mike, why not come back again to the Catholic Church - it will get you a mention in the Guinness Book of Records, and as a Frequent Swimmer you'll get complimentary champagne and fatted calf! After all, your ludicrous anti-Christian views are already shared by some very senior types in Rome! Think about it, OK?

Job

Welcome back, class, to the Eccles Bible project, in which we explain Holy Scripture to atheists and any others who require spiritual nourishment. And it's a big welcome to one or two scholars that we don't remember seeing before. We have Russell Brand (put that phoney-woney away, boy - no nuisance calls in class, please), and a contingent of cardinals fresh from the Extraordinary Synod in Rome, sent here by Cardinal Burke for a refresher course: so hello to Walter Kasper, Reinhard Marx ("Rhino" of the famous Marx Brothers), and of course our dear friend Vincent Nichols!

Cheer up, Job! It could be worse!

Well, the basic idea of the book of Job is that s*** happens. Job is rich and prosperous, and a truly religious person. Satan asks, "What would he be like if we took everything from him?" God says "Let's find out." So Job loses his oxen, asses, camels, sheep, servants, sons and daughters - this is called down-sizing - and gets afflicted with boils. At this stage, he is not really enjoying life. "Let the day perish wherein I was born," he says.

So what do you do if things go wrong? Well, it's good to have friends - in Job's case Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite* and Zophar the Naamathite - who can come along and console you by saying. "You know, Job, it's your own fault really. You must be a dreadful sinner."

"Who was the shortest person in the Bible? Bildad, as he was only shoe-height."

It's all YOUR fault, Job.

Anyway, Job keeps moaning, with catchy lines such as "Man born of a woman, living for a short time, is filled with many miseries," so you can see that he is not looking on the bright side at this point. His friends continue to tell him "Serve you right. You're a great sinner. ROFL," and thus they get the somewhat exasperated response "You are all troublesome comforters."

Job sticks to his faith, in particular the idea that in the end God will make all things right. He gradually gets round to giving a little homily about wisdom - for one with a very grievous ulcer, from the sole of the foot even to the top of his head, he is still remarkably chatty - and he says some very sound things such as "Behold the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom: and to depart from evil, is understanding."

I can see that I'm losing my audience here: some of you don't believe in God, and others are quite happy to compromise with evil, eh, cardinals? Still, Job doesn't quite see it your way.

And after more of the same, God comes back.

Do you think there's someone outside?

God is not going to explain what's been going on, nor defend Himself. He makes the (if I may say so) very valid point that He (God) is infinitely wise and powerful, and Job is a mere human. "Canst thou draw out the leviathan with a hook, or canst thou tie his tongue with a cord?" asks God, and Job is fairly sure that he cannot.

The book has a happy ending, as God ticks off the three comforters and restores to Job his wealth, more than previously: namely, fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand she-asses. He also has seven sons, and three daughters. Phew!

Job and his (apparently, rather musical) family.

It's a good book to read if you're feeling depressed. Class dismissed.