Pentecost Special

Some of this is true, some of it exaggerated. Decide for yourselves which is which.

To Mass on Pentecost Sunday. We were told in advance that there would be a bring-food-and-share-it meal afterwards, encouraged to wear our own national costumes and bring our traditional food (we're a fairly diverse parish).

First surprise: the three Mass readings weren't in English (or even Latin). Admittedly, they were printed in English on the service sheet, but it sometimes became impossible to match them to the foreign-language readings we heard.

"... how does it happen that each hears him in his own native language?"

(N.B.: we didn't this time.)

One example: an African in traditional costume read the bit from the Acts of the Apostles. Actually, not a great loss, as he has such a heavy accent that I cannot always follow him when he reads in English, either.

The other languages used were easier to identify.

"What traditional English costume was Eccles wearing?" You may ask. I had several possibilities, but I won't reveal which one I eventually chose.

Option 1.

Option 2.

Option 3.

I did my bit for diversity by putting some left-over Swedish kronor in the collection, rather than the usual 5p. I've been trying to get rid of them for several years.

Anyway, we come to the bring-food-and-share-it. What traditional English foods would appeal to everyone? Tripe and onions? Black pudding? Jellied eels? Eccles cakes (of course)?

And what traditional foreign foods will they offer in return? Frogs' legs? Snails? Sheep's eyes? Korean hot dogs? Yummy!

In the end we were blessed by food from the New Hebrides / Vanuatu, where traditionally they ate missionaries.

Delicious!

The Book of Brexodus, Chapter 12

Continued from Part 11.

1. Six months had passed since May-sis sent her team of wise negotiators (Bo-sis, King David Davis, and some others whose names are justly forgotten) to dine with the Pharaoh Juncker.

2. Yet, after endless eating and drinking at the well-appointed table of Juncker, no agreement had been reached.

King David Davis pretends to know what is going on.

3. For, although the date was set on which the children of Bri-tain were to leave the land of EU-gypt, and many were waiting to cross the Red Sea, there were still questions to answer.

4. Should the children of Bri-tain remain in the Single Market, and thus return to EU-gypt every Saturday to buy and sell their produce?

5. For they could sell their rare foods such as tripe and onions, and buy frogs' legs and sauerkraut.

6. Or should they partake in the Customs Union, meaning that their traditional customs such as Morris Dancing and cricket might be combined with the customs of EU-gypt, such as the Can-can and bullfighting?

"Right, lads, the EU-gypt directive says we should do the Can-can next."

7. Then there was talk of hard borders and backstop plans, which nobody really understood, so that the people of Bri-tain said, "We never knew that it was so hard to flee the land of EU-gypt."

8. And many noble lords, who had been appointed to power by the ancient warlord Blair, voted to remain where they were, feasting on milk and honey.

9. Indeed, they said that the people should vote again, and keep on voting until they got the right answer.

10. Now even the High Priest Wel-by, custodian of the ancient religion of Eng-land, guardian of a box containing 39 wondrous articles, spake out, saying that EU-gypt was the best thing since sliced manna.

11. Finally, even King David Davis was so vexed that he threatened to resign his throne, although he could not give a precise date for leaving it.

12. And the people murmured saying, "This May-sis could not organize a wedding in a Cana brewery without running out of wine. Let us have Jacob Gogg-Magogg as our leader."

"May-sis hath not provided enough wine. Can you do something?"

13. "Or let us call an election and see if the Corbynites can do any better. The Abbot of Diane can organize our finances, and John, also known as Mc-Don-El, can form a lasting alliance with the Hamasites and Hezbollites."

14. Which at least showed that the people had not lost their sense of humour.

Continued in Chapter 13.

No jokes in your sermons, please

We have written before on How to make sermons less boring, but a recent poll has indicated that congregations do not like jokes in sermons. So let's have another go at this one.

No jokes. So, I'm afraid, dear Lord, that joke of Yours about straining at a gnat (gamla) and swallowing a camel (gamal) will have to go. It always brings the house down when we have that in the Gospel. Also the story about people having planks in their eyes - well, our focus group isn't too keen.

There was an old lady who swallowed a camel.

Today's tip for preachers is to avoid words and phrases that may trigger giggles in sermons. Here's a short list:

1. The bishop. Like it or not, most bishops are figures of fun. There are exceptions, of course: some are not megalomaniac self-publicists or idle time-servers, but devout and holy men who are true pastors of their sheep. However, in many dioceses the mere mention of the bishop will cause eye-rolling, sniggering, and head-shaking. Especially if he was on the television last night.

A devout and holy man.

2. Richard Dawkins. Although a tragic figure, rather than a comedian per se, he is associated with so many funny stories that his comedy value is more than his value as a source of spiritual nourishment. If he does finally convert, then he will have a natural role as a patron saint of comics. Or possibly honey.

3. The Spirit of Vatican II. It's probably safe to mention Vatican II, which was not inherently funny. However, invoke the Spirit (and the same goes for the Spirit of Laudato Si' or the Spirit of Amoris Laetitia), and the giggling will start.

The Spirit of Amoris Dancer.

4. Tina Beattie. I suppose a blood-and-thunder denunciation of the dear lady from the pulpit, although it would be impressive, is too much to ask for. Mentioning her in the context of Catholic teaching will probably count as a joke. No, avoid the subject.

5. Giles Fraser. Like Dawkins, an endless source of mirth, so much so that the mere mention of his name brings a smile to the face. I suppose that in private he may be a tortured soul who only wants to be loved, but even God must be congratulating Himself on one of his funniest creations.

6. Women bishops, women priests, deaconesses. Stop sniggering at the back.

I said, "Stop sniggering."

7. Paul Inwood. It's difficult to see how the subject might come up in a sermon, unless one of the Biblical readings was about a hideous and ghastly noise (there's probably a suitable text in the book of Revelation), but your audience will now be thinking "Alleluia, Ch-Ch" or "Prepare the way of the Lord, Moo-oo-oo, Moo-oo-oo".

8. Jesuits. Nowadays these are inherently funny, inasmuch as there are more jokes about Jesuits than spiritually nourishing stories. Forget it.

Well, you get the idea. Keep off topics that may trigger laughter. Model yourself on a BBC alternative comic - Jeremy Hardy, say, or Marcus Brigstocke. If they can talk for 20 minutes without making anyone laugh, then you should be able to as well.

Maintain the dignity of the cloth at all times!