Let's talk about the weather

Yesterday's post about the devils of ISIS was a little vitriolic, so let's talk about something gentler. Following a suggestion of leutgeb, this post will be all about the weather, which seems to have been typical of an English summer - sun and heavy rain. We invited some of our favourite religious figures to comment.

Tina Beattie, Roehampton.

Whenever I see a flash (!) of lightning or hear the bang (!) of thunder, I am reminded that the phallocentricism of neo-orthodox theology risks reducing the Mass to an orgasmic celebration of homosexual love, from which the female body is excluded. It makes me very cross, even if I remembered to bring an umbrella with me! We Tablet directors have concluded that the only answer is to ordain women, liberalise the abortion laws, and drop the God-centred aspects of religion in favour of human flourishing! By the way, if anyone would like me to give a lecture in a prestigious place - say, the Scunthorpe under-7s Bible Class - I will be glad to accept. But don't tell the local bishop beforehand - he might try and stop it!

Michael Campbell, blogger, bishop and controller of information.

Although I do not approve of humour on blogs - or indeed anything but the most tedious platitudes as a rule - it may be that the following hilarious story might make an exception. It was raining hard in Lancaster last week, and one of my deacons came to ask my advice on a moral dilemma. He had discovered an outbreak of cannibalism in my diocese - in particular his parish priest had been eaten by some members of ACTA - and wondered whether it was appropriate to mention it on his blog. However, he voluntarily slipped on the damp pavement and fell into a puddle, voluntarily ruining his vestments and breaking his leg. How we laughed at his voluntary misfortune! I think he's in for a period of voluntary prayer and reflection, don't you?

Damian Thompson declines a cupcake at the Mad Hatter's tea party.

It's been very hot lately, hasn't it? My spies in the Vatican tell me that this is because Pope Francis is finally getting to grips with the English weather. Whereas Pope Benedict was satisfied with the traditional mixture of rain, cloud, more rain, and fog, the man that his intimate friends call "Pope Francis" is determined to impose his own South American weather on the Catholic church. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that a new bishop, with responsibility for weather, had been appointed, with instructions to pray for sunshine! I have even heard the name of Fr Ray Blake mentioned - it is no secret that while at Brighton he has produced significantly more good weather than they get in northern cities such as Luton.

George Carey (2nd left) is corrected on a matter of theology.

A lovely day, isn't it? Of course, as the Bible says, if you don't think it's a lovely day then you are not appreciating God's creation to the full, and should take medical advice as to whether to carry on living! Trust me, I know all about these things, I was once an archbishop.

Paul Inwood, composer and liturgist.

Here's a little something you might like to sing at Mass. Don't forget your ukelele!

The sun has got his hat on, hip-hip-hip-hooray!
The sun has got his hat on and he's coming out today... ch-ch!

Eccles interviews Pope Francis

It is with great pleasure that we print an interview with Pope Francis, "The Pope whom nobody understands," in which we ask his views on a range of fundamental questions.

Eccles: Welcome, Holy Father. We are honoured to have you here today. I hope you will be frank with us, as we explore some controversial issues.

F: Well "Francis" is more usual, but I'm happy to be "Frank" if you wish.

Francis of Assisi, an inspiration to the Pope.

E: Er, excellent. Now, many people are still trying to decide, "Who exactly is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?"

F: A good question, Eccles, and we should not attempt to find an easy answer to it. Clearly, I am not Diego Maradona, even though I see the Hand of God in all things. But then nor am I Pope Benedict. I am reminded here of the motto of a countryman of mine, the Argentine poet Fray Bentos: "succulent and satisfying".

Argentine wisdom.

E: Yes, well I'm sure that commentators will wish to argue over these words for many days, to see whether they are a radical departure from orthodox Catholicism, and maybe a sop to Hans Küng. Let's try something less controversial. What is your favourite colour?

F: This is an issue with which Catholics seem to be obsessed. Green is a colour. Red is a colour. But you would not say that custard was a colour.

E: Isn't custard yellow?

F: Not if it's blue.

However, the Holy Father still left my question unanswered.

E: Let's try another question. Now, I know that infallibility doesn't work that way, but tell me, will it rain tomorrow?

F: I often think of the words of your poet Shakespeare, "The rain, it raineth every day," as well as Damian Lundy's "Rain rain, go away, come again another day." Still, unless Catholics also remember Bernadette Farrell's "The sun has got his hat on and is coming out to play!" they are not ready to face the challenges of the modern world.

E: Thank you very much, Holy Father. Do we have time for one final question?

F: No man knoweth the hour, Eccles. But I think I may give you a definite answer here. We may have time, or we may not have time, but time will continue to exist, regardless. Unless it doesn't.

E: Right. My last question is: Are you going to excommunicate those dreadful rebels at ACTA?

But this question was not to be answered. The Pope smiled enigmatically at me, and I was left to wonder whether he meant "yes" or "no" or, more probably, a definite "maybe".

A tasteless caricature of Ann Lardeur of ACTA.

Bad hymns 22

The judges of the Eccles Bad Hymn award are delighted to welcome Fr Frank Andersen, creator of the Galilee Song, which you can also hear here if you can stand it. This is the sort of hymn that goes down well with a lot of people, since it is only vaguely Christian. It is mostly about the mental state of the person singing the song, rather than about God.

Is it a hymn? Is it a sea shanty?

Eccles: Now, Father Frank, why not lie down on this couch and sing the first verse of the song to me?

Fr Andersen:

Deep within my heart, I feel voices whispering to me.
Words that I can't understand; meanings I can't clearly hear!
Calling me to follow close, lest I leave myself behind!
Calling me to walking into evening shadows one more time!

E: Yes, you do seem to have severe psychological problems, Father. I would say it's like paranoia, only in reverse. You think you're following someone, but you don't know who or why?

Eccles interviews Father Andersen.

FA: Perhaps I need help, Eccles. Following someone such as Christ for a good reason is one thing, but I find myself following random people in the street, and don't know why.

So I leave my boats behind!
Leave them on familiar shores!
Set my heart upon the deep!
Follow you again, my Lord!

E: Oh yes, that's the chorus, isn't it. Well at least you're following someone called Lord, who seems to have something to do with boats. Would that be anyone in particular?

Why does this man Andersen keep following me?

FA: Well, it is supposed to be Christ. But the abandoned boats are mine, so it could also be Mohammed. Or Krishna. Or Buddha. Or Boris Johnson. I wanted to give people a choice of deities.

E: Very ecumenical. And it goes so well with any musical accompaniment, such as guitars, zithers, kazoos or Balinese nose-flutes. Sing me the next verse.

FA:

In my memories, I know how you send familiar rains
falling gently on my days, dancing patterns on my pain!
And I need to learn once more in the fortress of my mind,
to believe in falling rain as I travel deserts dry!

E: Tell me more about these pains, Father. Headaches is it? Migraines? They seem to be giving you delusions, too. You see, as a matter of fact, deserts dry don't have falling rain. That's why they're dry.

Oh will the rain never stop?

FA: Sigh... I suppose you're right, Eccles. What do you recommend?

E: Take two aspirins, have a lie down, and don't try to write any more hymns, they just upset you.

FA: Eccles, thank you very much.

E: My pleasure. That'll be 100 guineas plus VAT. Next patient, please!

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Previous entries for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award:

Lord of the Dance.    Shine, Jesus, shine.    Enemy of apathy.    Walk in the Light.
Kum Ba Yah.    Follow me.    God's Spirit is in my heart.    Imagine.    Alleluia Ch-ch.
It ain't necessarily so.    I, the Lord of sea and sky.    Colours of day.    The red flag.
Go, the Mass is ended.    I watch the sunrise.    Bind us together, Lord.    Our god reigns.
My way.    Ding-Dong! The witch is dead.    If I were a butterfly.
Journeys ended, journeys begun.

New Hymns 4

For today's master-class, we have invited the lovely Christina Rossetti here, so that we can discuss her carol In the Bleak Midwinter, and attempt to rewrite it for modern worship.

Christina Rossetti, on learning that she needs to rewrite her hymn.

E: So, Miss Rossetti, there are a few problems with this hymn. The first verse, for example, is probably not historically correct: Christ was almost certainly not born in midwinter, and the weather was mild enough for shepherds to abide in the fields all night.

C: O Eccles, you're not going to make me sacrifice such a poetic verse? I could rewrite it I suppose:

It was quite a nice day,
Not too hot or cold,
They had lovely weather
In the days of old.

E: Yes, it's a pity we couldn't have kept the "frosty wind made moan" bit, and all joined in with a chorus of "Moan moan moan," but historical accuracy is more important. Perhaps you could make the song a bit more dramatic?

C: I thought of continuing:

Rain had fallen, rain on rain,
Rain on rain,
But the shepherd's clothes were
Drying out again.

It's a man's life in the sheep-farming industry.

E: Yes, that's fine. Now you have several verses about mangers, oxen, asses, even camels...

C: Camels are not really midwinter animals, I know. I thought of making them yetis instead. Are yetis Biblical? I suppose not.

A yeti reacts angrily to being told that it is not Biblical.

E: Well, we've got rid of the midwinter theme, anyway. Let's move on to the last verse, which is all about giving Christmas presents.

C: "If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb."

E: Yes, and "If I were a wise man, I would do my part." What is this mysterious "part?"

C: I was stuck for a rhyme for "heart," there, Eccles.

E: Now, it's good that the last verse is about us - that's the guiding spirit behind modern hymns - so let's see if we can make it even more egotistical, with a verse about Christmas shopping.

C: I have it:

I've been Christmas shopping, poor as I am:
For my auntie Jane, a year's supply of spam.

For my uncle Fred, a tasty rhubarb tart...

And for dear old Gran a piece of modern art.

E: Christina Rossetti, thank you very much. They'll be singing this version in all the churches this Christmas, I have no doubt about it.

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Earlier masterclasses: John Henry Newman    King David    Charles Wesley

Song from Twelfth Night

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Or, as portrayed by the Seven Ages of Man...

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When that I was but a little boy called Knowles,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
They found my childish essays full of holes,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When as a young man, known to all as Tim,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I told Obama what I thought of him,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Sir Henry Morton Stanley in Africa

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Then as a young-ish nerd by name of Tom,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I split infinitives with great aplomb,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When that I was but a balding chap called Dan,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I spoke and all the Europeans ran,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When that I was an addiction-crazy Dame,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I wrote six blogs essentially the same,
For the rain it raineth every day.

The Fix: How book-plugging is invading our lives and changing our world

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When that I was but an aged man called Norm,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
My trolls were lefties from the lower form,
For the rain it raineth every day.

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When that I was but a basket-case called Lean,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I wrote no facts, just propaganda green,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A nuclear power station. (Are you sure you've got that right, Geoffrey?)