Conjuring tricks with bones

David Jenkins, Anglican bishop of Durham in the 1980s, has died at the ripe old age of 91. He will long be remembered for saying that the Resurrection was "far more than a conjuring trick with bones" and "not a single event but a series of experiences".

Captain Kirk attempts a conjuring trick with "Bones".

Surprisingly, since Bishop Jenkins's death, many people have claimed to have had mystical experiences convincing them that David's life, power, purpose and personality were still continuing.

For example, Jenkins's famous remark "I wouldn't put it past God to arrange a virgin birth if he wanted, but I very much doubt he would", then considered to be somewhat inappropriate for a man paid by the Church of England to promote Christian teaching, has been mystically echoed by the totally orthodox cleric Giles Fraser.

Today Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, agreed to clamp down on "turbulent priests" by introducing a list of fundamental Christian teachings that they - and indeed all worshippers - were expected to recite in church without crossing their fingers, rolling their eyes, winking, or in any other way indicating that it was a joke as far as they were concerned. "I shall call it 'The Creed'," he said, "and there will be three versions: the Nicene one for general use, the Apostles' Creed for when we're in a hurry, and the Athanasian Creed for people as clever as that Catholic chap Fr Hunwicke."

Someone could even make a song out of it!

It is thought that such a "creed" may contain phrases such as "the Virgin Mary" or "the resurrection of the dead", in order to weed out the unsaved.

Although I, Eccles, never met Bishop Jenkins, I did a long time ago meet Bishop John "Honest to God" Robinson, another famous Anglican liberal. Robinson had managed to anticipate Mother Tina Beattie by describing sex as "an act of holy communion" in the trial that tried to ban Lady Chatterley's Lover (he was defending the book). Actually, Mother Tina's own book describes Holy Communion as an act of homosexual sex, but Robinson did do his best to shock people, given that homosexuality wasn't invented until the late 1960s.

John Robinson was famous for pointing out that God is not an old man living on a cloud, which was another of the brilliant scientific discoveries of the 1960s. My most interesting conversation with him involved a planned Lake District Trip; he quoted to me the saying "Choose your companions carefully, you may have to eat them" from Sellar and Yeatman's And now all this. I duly followed his advice.

Choose your companions carefully...

In the end our bishop-less expedition climbed Scafell Pike, and I discovered God sitting on a cloud at the top. Which only goes to show that bishops don't know everything.

Don't be a Donatist! Be nice to your bishop!

The Bones blog tells of a fascinating document Reflection Document for Clergy on Marriage and Family Life, produced by the CBCEW, warning clergy against the heresy of Donatism.

Robert Donat in "The 39 Articles Steps".

Donatism, as every schoolboy or girl knows, was a heresy condemned by St Augustine. This was in the time of Diocletian's persecution of Christians: Christians were being forced to bake cakes bearing slogans in favour of same-sex "marriage", other Christians lost their jobs when they repeated Christ's teaching on marriage and the family... Well, in these times, various Christians renounced their faith, or at least kept very quiet about it. Some bishops even allowed "gay" masses to take places in their dioceses, or invited known dissenters to lecture.

Now, when the the climate was a bit milder, and people felt able to speak freely once more, then the Donatists refused to accept the sacraments at the hands of such "apostates". This is heretical, and we must take the view that - however badly your bishop has behaved - he is still a priest in good standing. If he marries you - er, to someone else, that is - baptises your child, or anoints you with oil, or whatever, then it's all perfectly above board.

"Something's not quite right here, Vin."

In fact, the CBCEW letter isn't condemning true Donatists who may refuse to accept the legitimacy of priests: it is changing the meaning of the word to refer to those who refuse to give communion to remarried divorcees, those in same-sex relationships, and others who do not wish to give "Go and sin no more" a try. It's always a good move to label your political opponents with some obscure heresy, rather than coming out and saying exactly what you mean. We've been accused of neo-Pelagianism and Donatism; coming soon: accusations of Arianism, Marcionism and Montanism, or you may be identified as one of the Bogomils, the Patarini, the Dulcinians, the Waldensians or the Cathars.

Do you look like this? If so, you mean be guilty of Bogomilism.

The explanation for the gibberish in the CBCEW document is simple. It was written by all the bishops, sitting in a large "magic" circle, each taking it in turns to supply a word. Some of the bishops dozed off while this was being done, or woke up shouting "Drink!", so the process was not entirely reliable. As Mr Bones has hinted, "Donatist" was actually one portly bishop's cry for doughnuts.

Eccles-iastical rumours

Great excitement has been generated by rumours that the Pope told a divorced and remarried woman, Jacquelina Sabetta, that she was now allowed to take Communion. "Who am I to fudge?" he is said to have asked her. Without knowing whether or not this rumour is true, we should point out that many previous rumours about the Pope have been shown to be false, and caused by mistranslation, misreporting, misunderstanding or simply mischief. Here are some of the silliest.

POPE TO MARRY A MUSLIM WOMAN.

Centuries of tradition, whereby the Pope, and indeed all priests, are forbidden to marry were supposed to have been upset recently when the Pope was seen talking to an attractive Muslim lady. Said the Queen of Jordan (for it was she), "Don't be silly, Damian (who he?), we are just good friends."

FRANCIS WASHES SHEEP'S FEET ON MAUNDY THURSDAY.

The Maundy Thursday ritual of washing feet was challenged this year when it was claimed that the Pope had extended it to animals. Said a spokesman, "It is true that the Holy Father might wash the feet of a primate, but only if it were Justin Welby."

HOLY FATHER ADMITS THAT HE HAS A SON.

Despite the strong physical resemblance, it has been explained that these two popes are not related.

The rumour machine continues to grind on, with forecasts that Fr Alban McCoy would become the next bishop of Leeds (which has been sede vacante since Arthur Roche was packed off to Rome). Ten days have elapsed, and the good man still hasn't received the expected letter, so we must conclude that this bit of gossip was off the mark.

Dammit, Damian, I'm a doctor, not a bishop!

---

We were going to blog about St George's Day as we did last year, but apparently it has been moved, owing to a clash with Easter. Curiously, one Very Famous Person Indeed found it was possible to celebrate Easter and St George at the same time.

They always said God was an Englishman.

The Pilgrim's Ogress 4 - the guilt of Titus' Grandma

Continued from Part 3

Eccles's Anti Moly takes up the tale.

After my stupid nephew escaped from the Tablet headquarters in Hammersmith, he wanted to go to Blogfen, a woeful traddy parish somewhere near Sidcup. Eccles had heard that there was a meeting there in honour of Titus' Grandma, to which Catholic bloggers were invited. My nephew somehow thought that he would be welcome.

This is Titus, but we never met his Grandma.

It was quite difficult to get to Blogfen, because our donkey, Micky, carrying the emergency gin supplies, wasn't allowed on buses or trains. Also, Eccles wanted to go incognito, as he had heard that a lunatic from Croydon was out for his blood; so he dressed up as a clown and pretended to be his brother Bosco. We missed the religious events, but arrived in time for the party.

Our donkey, also in disguise.

The event was very strange. There was an old man called "Lofty" present, who said he had come along in order to shut down as many blogs as possible. He also had an interesting theory, based on turning over several pages of St Luke's Gospel at once, that Jesus was only on the Earth for one week - Born on a Monday, Baptised on Tuesday, Retreated on Wednesday, Did His ministry on Thursday, Crucified on Friday, Rose on Saturday, Ascended on Sunday. Lofty spent most of the party exchanging scowls with someone they called the "LMS Chairman", and in the end the two of them went outside for a punch-up and never came back.

Eccles asked me to republish this photo of Basil Foltus as a young man.

Eccles says he will always look at Tina Beattie in a new light, as a result of the Blogfen party. As a leading Catholic thinker, she had come to the meeting, and Eccles, who is a little infatuated with her, asked her to dance. It was woeful seeing "luvvly Tina" and my idiot nephew Eccles tango-ing to a Gregorian chant, but this was supposed to be an occasion for getting to know new people.

Hans Küng was there too, and I thought he and I might dance, so I went up to him to ask. Silly me, it was his statue! Apparently Fr Finigan, the host of the party, had been given a copy of the original statue, and had not yet found a good home for it. Well, after a bottle or two of gin, it was an easy mistake for me to make.

Woeful - this man refused to dance with me.

Several more traddy bloggers were also present, many from the Brighton area. I remember talking to a man called Bones; he had come with his friend Blakey from Brighton, who kept saying "I 'ate you, Gardner", although we never discovered who this Gardner man was.

Bones (with an unusual cross) and Blakey.

But the person I remember best, because he talked for three hours without interruption, was someone they called "The Archbishop of Corby". I jotted down a few gems of his conversation, such as, "Make sure you understand the question you're asking, Ma'am, but it seems you prefer a black and white answer to a labyrinth of conditional logic gates you won't even acknowledge, as it's a question of objective disordering circumstances and Noachide/natural moral law, exposing your ignorance of intention/motive and circumstantial factors." This was in response to "Would you like another cup of tea, your Grace?" from a lady in a mantilla.

Sitting on the naughty chair.

Ah well, I slipped under the table shortly after that, and don't remember much more. Such is life, eh? What's more, they played Gregorian chant all afternoon, and not the music I wanted to dance to. Woeful.

This is the sort of music I prefer.

To be continued by another author.

Liturgical dancing

Doing the can-can in Liverpool Cathedral.

Liturgical dance is a vital component of modern worship - so much more exciting than traddy things like the Gloria or Credo, and much more interesting than the Bishop's Letter (do we really care what he got for Christmas?) Accordingly, we are pleased to publish an excerpt from the new Liverpool Missal, Lord have Mersey!

PRIEST: You put your left leg in.
PEOPLE: You put your left leg out.
PRIEST: In out, in out.
PEOPLE: Shake it all about.
PRIEST: You do the hokey-cokey and you turn around.
PEOPLE: That's what it's all about.

PRIEST: It is indeed what it is all about, and it is 
our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to
do the hokey-cokey and to turn around...

It is the priest's job to lead the liturgical dancing, as shown here.

The most recent liturgical dance in Liverpool Cathedral was held to celebrate the arrival of the relics of St John Bosco (that name seems strangely familiar). The saint was greeted by that lovely hymn based on Ezekiel 37, to which the whole congregation was invited to dance:

Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.
Now hear de word of de Lord.

♫ Your foot-bone's connected to your leg-bone... ♫

Liturgical dancing is here to stay. It has the great advantage that it concentrates the worshippers' minds, not on God, not on the meaning of the Mass, but on everyday things like being "cool" and having "rhythm." Also, it can take place at any point in the service.

No Mass is complete without some people waving cardboard boxes above their heads.

Of course the Anglicans have been doing liturgical dances for years. Here, Archbishop Sentamu of York demonstrates some of the movements to a sceptical Rowan Williams.

♫ Underneath the spreading chestnut tree... ♫

The full video of "Lord have Mersey" is here.

Star Trekk

De world is waitin for de full story of how Bosco met de characters from Star Trekk, when he was a little kid. De way he tells it is dat Leiutenant Uhurra (Nichele Nicholls) came to a party at our huose, and he was asleep upstares, but de reallity is rather different.

We was little kids, and in de bedroom Bosco was asleep, dreemin sweetly dat he was beetin up some nuns. I was awake finking about de probblems of being saved. What happenned was dat four Star Trekk characters turned up in our bedroom, as de sensers on de Entreprise told dem about a strangge creecher dat lived dere.

De lady in de party was indeed Leiutenant Uhurra, she screemed when she saw my bruvver Bosco, but otherwise she didnt say much. De one wiv de big ears is called Sock. He took a long look at my darlin bruvver Bosco and said "Dat's life, Jim, but not as we know it! I don't fink dis creecher is saved."

De leeder chap was called Kerk, dat means churhc, so we cuold tell he was relligiuos. "We abhorrs vilence at all times," he said, "but den we doesn't want dis freek to turn into a Cathlic. I fink I'll soften him up wiv de phassar, just to be on de safe side."

He fired de phassar at Bosco's head, but de deadly rays just buonced off, sometimes it is useful to have a crannium as hard as concreet.

De remainin chap was called Bons, and he was a doctor. He was very interresed by dis skelleton dat was given us by de Calumny Chappel for us to pray to in de bedroom at nihgt, and he was sure dat it was saved.

Anyways, de Star Trekk crew decidded dat Bosco was not much of a threat to civillization (dey did say dat hundreds might die of boredom when dey heard him preechin, but dats reely not nice, it's only been a dozzen at most so far). So Kerk said "Beem us up, Spotty," and den dey all vannished.

My Anti Moly says dat Captin Kerk visitted her too when she was yuonger; dey even had a short rommance cos dat's what always happens in dem storries. Dis is a pitcher of dem bein affectionnate.