Entering on a sacred journey of becoming whole

Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, has signed a letter to Boris Johnson condemning Conversion Therapy for "trans" people. (Rowan himself was never very good at converting people, even to Anglicanism.)

The Archdruid of Canterbury (no, this is not photoshopped).

The letter contains the immortal sentence "To be trans is to enter on a sacred journey of becoming whole: precious, honoured and loved, by yourself, by others, and by God."

See, it's not just about denying the identity given to you by God, putting on a wig and high heels, and perhaps taking some weird drugs and/or having a few bits cut off. An archbishop has spoken, so the argument is over.

Or could it be a misprint for trains?

Many children aged about 3 or 4 play trains. Chugging round the garden saying "I'm a train. Choo choo!" is perfectly normal behaviour in kids. What can parents do if they have a "trains" kid?

A child (Thomas) after "trains" surgery.

Such children merely want to enter on a sacred journey of becoming whole (© Archdruid Rowan). Their parents should encourage them with "trains" surgery - remove their legs and have wheels fitted; feed them on coal; fit a little chimney to the top of the head. All this is available on the National Health Service, and it is only right.

Well, that's settled. People who have already adopted a "trains" existence have found their true station in life, and should not be converted to a "normal" existence - that would be going off the rails completely! With that slight edit, we agree totally with his Druidness.

Just a biological question to finish off. What does "non-binary" mean? Binary... 0 and 1... well, without getting too anatomically explicit here, your naughty bits vaguely resemble one or the other, don't they?

Lenten Reflections on Modernism

This blog will soon be closing for Lent, as I retire into the contemplative life of a hermit. I shall move to a shed on the Costa Blanca, where my only companions will be my four faithful hippopotamuses: Dolan, Pickles, Batmanghelidjh, and Auntie Moly. As a modern St Francis - or maybe St Augustine of Hippo - I shall exchange spiritually nourishing ideas with these highly intelligent creatures, but, except possibly on some Sundays, there will be nothing new to read on this blog.

Auntie Moly has a spiritually nourishing idea.

So, to give you material for reflection during Lent, here are some thoughts on modernism in a religious context.

Pre-Vatican II. A spiritual experience. Note the clouds of incense.

Post-Vatican II. Worshippers don't even know where they're going.

The revolution in Catholicism can be traced to three events, which collectively are known as "Vatican II". First, there was the Beeching report, saying that churches should be modernized, some being closed down and the others becoming soul-less. The results can be seen above - in the "modernist" service we don't even know which way the priest's going to be facing. "Extraordinary form" services still exist, but the Spirit of Vatican II is against them, and they are often only available to the lucky few in churches run by enthusiasts.

Traddy worship. Note how Fr Boycott's vestments are liturgically appropriate.

Bad vestments with the priest's name on the back!

Second, there was the move to bad vestments, and the rush to complete all one's worship in one day. Before Vatican II, a Mass could easily last five days, with intervals for lunch and tea. Experienced worshippers would use terms such as "night-watchman" (usually a disparaging reference to a deacon who came in for the night-time vigil), and "state of the pitch" (a reference to the quality of the unaccompanied Gregorian chant). These concepts have now largely disappeared.

An asperges from Pope Pertwee.

A guitar Mass with Pope Capaldi.

Finally, there was the Medicus Quis. In the olden days, Pope St Pertwee's main recipe for salvation was to "reverse the polarity of the neutron flow," which in theological terms means "turn back, O Man, forswear thy foolish ways." He often found salvation via the ventilation shaft (whence came the "rushing wind" of the Holy Spirit), and his services never employed guitars; only rarely did he use gimmicks such as the sonic screwdriver.

Pope Capaldi, on the other hand, relies almost exclusively on the sonic screwdriver. A demon appears? Zap it. A penitent needs a blessing? Zap him (oops. you weren't supposed to use the same setting, Father). Alleluia, zap-zap!

I hope these little thoughts will help you to stay saved during Lent. At least the hippopotamuses appreciated them.

Wot Eccles did on his hols

Well I took a few days off from de hurly-burly of Notting Hell, and decided to go round England seein some of de sites. My first trip was a trian journey to Manchester, cos I wanted to see de famous town of Eccles; also I got a fan in Altrincham, wot spends all her time screen-cappin everyfink I says on Twitter and puttin it into a big scrapbook.

We leaves Euston in a Pendalino.

Dis aint gonna be a partickularly spiritaully nuorishin story, but I will try and mentoin some of de fings dat happened. Fust, it was a Friday when I left, and de trian got very crowded.

After some commuters got on at Nuneaton.

Later on, our Virgin trian was delayed, and it seemed dat dere weren't no Richard Branson on it to complane to. But I later found out wot de problem was.

Unsaved pussons on de line near Rugeley.

Still, the juorney eventaully came to and end, and I reached de North.

Manchester.

So I went to see my grate admirer in Altrincham, wot had invited me round for a cup of tea and a Pengiun.

My fan in Altrincham.

In fact she kept me a prisoner in her house for 4 days (all de doors and winders was locked) as she wanted to read to me from her bound copies of de luvvly Vatican II documents, some of which I doesn't know very well. I eventaully escaped and hid behind a sofa.

Hidin behind de sofa.

When I got away, my next destinatoin was Corby, cos de Archbishop is a great hero of mine. I took a photo of his cathedrall.

Corby Cathedrall.

He was givvin a specail lecture in my honour called "How Eccles brought me spiritaul nuorishment" (6 p.m. to 4 a.m.). To put it simply, I contradicts all logical paradimgs and I show that, following St Augustine's anti-donatism and anti-pelagianism, it is imperative to court the panoptically hypostasized tasks of intertextual grounding.

De audience listened in rapt attentoin.

About 2 a.m. he said "finally", and so I knew dere was only anuvver couple of hours to go. After Corby, dere was just time to head down to de south coast, stoppin on de way to see a deacon in Crodyon wot is a grate friend of mine, althuogh he does like screemin "sockpoppet" at poeple he aint met before.

De deacon is keepin a dossier on me.

And so we gets to Brihgton.

I'm fairly sure dis is de Brihgton pavillion.

Well, not much else to record reely. I went to de seaside to paddle, but de tide was out.

Brihgton Beach. A deep-sea diver returns to land.

And so back to Notting Hell, refreshed, and still a saved pusson.

---

I aint never put dis on my blogg, but I recently persauded my Bruvver Bosco to get baptised, which he hadnt done before. Here is a touchin snap of de occasoin.

My bruvver Bosco, bein baptised.

Liturgy for G. K. Chesterton

Special Liturgy for the Feast of Gilbert of Beaconsfield (May 29th)

The opening words

Priest, Fr Brown (for it is he): I'm sorry, but the 
bishop's late. He missed the train.
People: The only way to be sure of catching a train is 
to miss the one before it.
Priest: The bishop comes from Birmingham...
People: By way of Beachy Head.

Naught for your comfort: the bishop was last seen here.

Reading from Holy Scripture
John 2:1-11, the story of the turning of water into wine.

The prayers

Priest: We pray for the canonization of St Gilbert.
People: It has not been tried and found wanting; 
it has been found difficult and not tried.
Priest: We shall now have a moment of silent prayer.
Deacon: The poets have been mysteriously 
silent on the subject of cheese.
Priest: Ssshhh!

A subject for prayer and contemplation.

Priest: It isn't that they can't see the solution... 
People: It is that they can't see the problem.
Priest: If a thing is worth doing... 
People: It is worth doing badly.
Priest: A dead thing can go with the stream...
People: But only a living thing can go against it.

The Dismissal

Priest: The Bible tells us to love our neighbours, 
and also to love our enemies...
People: Probably because they are generally the same people.
Priest: Will someone take me to a pub?
People: Good idea!

Our soon-to-be patron saint with his own Luvvly (Frances) Blogg.