How to preach today's sermon

Following a spiritually nourishing blog post from Fr Tim Finigan, entitled How to listen to the sermon tomorrow, we propose a little help for your priest/ vicar/ pastor/ worship leader/ big cheese (this is an ecumenical post) in case he/ she/ xe/ brie (and a polygendered post) has to preach on the subject of the Wheat and the Tares (a.k.a. Darnel). One of the following templates is sure to work.

Trouble at Ambridge.

Brother Bosco of the Calumny Chapel: Brothers, we is Wheat and everyone else is Dranel! Altogether now, raise your arms in the air and shout: "You is not saved, only we is saved!" And especially the Cathlics with their Babylonian fish hats, their cannibalism, and their costume holy men, they is very unsaved! For those of us what knows Jesus personally, He says to us "Brother Bosco, you is Wheat, my son, and you has a golden crown waiting for you when you pops off to the Glassy Sea. While the Pope and his Cradinals is going to the Lake of Fire!" Hallelujah! And now, Hymn 94, "Oh what fun it is to be saved!"

You is not saved, only Bosco is saved.

Father Dan Brown SJ: Today's gospel about the wheat and the darnel is based on a parable written by Mary Magdalene, the wife of Jesus, and the first Pope, who wore a dalmatic and taught God all He knows. Its message is that we are the wheat, and those who disagree with us are the darnel, the haters, who don't know the first thing about discernment. By the way, have you got your copy of my new book "Bridge-it James's Diary", or "The Jesuit guide to sexual relationships"? You haven't? Then you too are a hater!

Renowned Jesuit Jacques Martin staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery.

Father Laudatosi: In the reading today, we see the perils of ignoring the environment. Somehow, genetically-modified seeds were mixed with the original organic low-fat gluten-free vegan-friendly non-carcinogenic unleaded wheat, and as a consequence the Earth will be destroyed by climate change! As Pope Francis has told us, there is only one solution - study the spiritual enneagram and practise your circle dancing!

Some non-alcoholic salt-free unisex circle dancing.

The Reverend Alfred Narcolepsy M.A.: Today my typewriter crashed, so at the last minute I borrowed some ideas from the nineteenth-century sermons of the Reverend Chedediah Somnifer M.A. Now, the parable of the wheat and tares is of great relevance to us in this age of uncertainty. With Napoleon having escaped from Elba, and heading for Paris, vowing to "make France great again", we may think of the French army as sowing destruction among us. Now, what would Jesus have done? I think He would have backed the Duke of Wellington to rip up the tares. However, we cannot be sure that He would have endorsed the Earl of Liverpool's pledge to return us to the gold standard! Cano in pluvia as every schoolboy knows!

"This looks like a good place to plant some tares!"

Bev the Rev: Hey! A funny thing happened to me on the way to the church. I was walking past a cornfield when I decided to dance in it, just as David danced before the Lord! But Farmer Giles shouted at me, "Oi! Get out of my cornfield, fatso!" Men are such sexists! I think that's the true meaning of the parable of the wheat and tares, don't you? And my glove-puppet thinks so too, don't you, Bottley?

Pope Francis, with a trusted adviser.

Fr Antonio Spiderman SJ: Stuff this for a lark! I hate you all.

Religious leaders comment on the environment

Well, never mind the Pope's encyclical for the moment. What do other religious leaders have to say?

The Dalai Lama.

The isness of the one is the oneness of the all. We are one with the Earth, and the Earth is one with us. Putting it more simply, the wholeness of the essence of being is the key to the oneness of the why. If I say to myself, "Hello, Dalai!" then am I not talking to myself? Whereas, if I say to a tree, "Hello, Laurel," then am I not communing with the Universe? The upshot of that is that we should talk to trees, indeed we should listen to trees. For are we not trees ourselves? I know I am.

Justin Welby.

Now, it's not for an Anglican clergyman to preach to you; indeed, until my opinions have been approved by a 2/3 majority at the General Synod, we cannot be sure that they are truly the will of God - if He exists, and that's a question that we still aren't agreed on! However, I think I can stick my neck out here and say - in a very real sense - that if we are all doomed to be inconvenienced by War, Famine, Disease and Death, then this will be jolly unpopular in some circles. Still, I am happy to reassure my critics that the Church of England is instituting a system of "Smoking Bishops" to minister to those who think that being drowned by rising seas and bursting into flames is a good thing on the whole. So, as usual, we are catering for all beliefs and none. After all, that's why we're here!

Imam Abu Hamza.

We are all called to Jihad, and by that I mean the massacre of the infidel. But Allah asks us to do this in a way that respects the planet. Beheading Christians is ecologically sound - it has a very low carbon footprint - whereas shooting them releases dangerous greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. I used to be quite keen on the use of landmines, until I discovered Green Terrorism; nowadays I respect all nature - except for humans of course.

Brother Bosco of the Calvary Chapel.

I don't care about the environment. If the Pope says we must respect it, then he's saying this as part of some international baby-eating conspiracy including the Jesuits, the freemasons, Sepp Blatter, the Mafia, the Inland Revenue, the BBC's Strictly Come Dancing show, and the Mothers' Union. Trust me, I read all about it on wehatecatholics.org, catholicsarecannibals.com, letsbitethecarpet.org, makeupyourowndrivel.net and Richard Dawkins's website weluvdicky.org. The Catholics are just using atmospheric pollution as a smokescreen. Nurse! Where's my medication?

How to be a saint

If you are a regular reader of this blog, then obviously you are clearly slightly saved already. However, you may be interested in something better, namely, the reassurance that you will be heading straight for Heaven when you die, without any intermediate steps such as Purgatory, a Last Judgement (which could be very disagreeable, even if at the end you scrape through with a "Not Guilty" verdict), or anything else you might see as a possible hazard en route.

Two saints turn up at the Pearly Gates.

The first thing to remember is that saints are not actually saintly people. Consider the case of St Dismas, the "good thief". Along with his mate Gestas, the "bad thief", he made a complete nuisance of himself in 1st Century Palestine. With his mask, his striped jersey, and his bag marked "SWAG" - an unusual sight in Judæa - he would break into houses and steal primitive computers - Amstrads, probably - or pick pockets. Luckily, they never tried this on Jesus, who would have detected it instantly, as He did when the woman touched His cloak. Still, at the end (admittedly very painful for him), Dismas said the immortal words "It's a fair cop" and ended up in Heaven.

Dismal Dismas.

Moving on a bit, we come to St Augustine, with his famous saying, "Grant me chastity and continence, but not yet." I know we live in a "who am I to judge?" era, but I really don't advise you to try this bit of gradualism at home. Augustine converted to Christianity at the age of 32: since he lived to be 75, he behaved himself, more or less, for 43 years, and just spent his spare time blogging. Incidentally, his mother was also a saint (Monica), but in general such titles are not hereditary. So we have here a different way to sainthood, and one more suitable for most of my readers, who are not thieves, as far as I know.

My third and last case study is Pope St John-Paul II. Like Dismas (on a Very High Authority Indeed) and Augustine (by Popular Acclaim), John-Paul was canonized very quickly - 9 years after his death - and the fact that he made it to pope may have had something to do with this. But even John-Paul did some startling things.

Kissing the Koran. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

We never got to the bottom of this story. Perhaps it was just John-Paul's habit to kiss any large book that came his way, whether it be a Bible, an Encyclopædia Vaticana, or even a humble telephone directory. The last is not such a bad idea, actually, as it may be interpreted as blessing all those within, yeah, even from brother A.A.A.A.0.0.0.Dyno-Plugg, the plumber, right through unto the blessed Zzygmunt Zzzzzzuhlsdorf of the Magic Circle (available for parties, weddings, and bishops' conferences). Still, kissing a Koran is something we do not generally advise.

John-Paul was of course a better man than we are, and has even been recognised to have performed some post-mortem miracles. Still, his route to sainthood is a hard one to follow, if only because we cannot all be popes.

Conclusion: I still haven't worked out a thoroughly reliable recipe for sainthood. More later, after I have consulted my brother Bosco, who is undeniably a saved person.

Could this be the way to Salvation?

Eccles isn't made welcome in church

I gotta apollogise for this post as my secretarries, Ecclesiam and Ecclesiis, is both away todday, so there may be the odd typpo and spelin erorr that creeps into this post. I think we're OK so far, but figners crossed...

Fr Phil of the church of St Daryl the Apostate, at the Hallowe'en Mass.

On Sunday I went to Mass at the very libberal church of St Daryl the Apostate, takin with me my big bruvver Bosco - him wot is even more saved than Pop Francis - and my dere Anti Moly, wot is not at all saved and don't want to be. Bosco only goes along so that he can interrupt the preist by sayin "You is not saved, only I is saved," and Anti Moly just finds the church a conveneint place to slubmer peacefully once she has emptied her bottle of gin.

Bosco and me when we was kids. I is the one bein chaste.

So we gets into the church, and Fr Phil welcomes us at the door, sayin, "Ullo, Eccles, is you gay? If so, you gotta special welcome todday, cos that's what the Snyodd decided. Or if you is cohabitin and never got round to marryin, then Cradinal Nickles says that's wonderful, and he wishes all Cathlics was like you." I explaned that I is a saved pusson leadin a chased and cellybat lifestyle, though I got lotsa lady admirers on account of my handsome looks.

"And I gotta girlfriend," said Bosco. "She's called Camilla, and lives near the cemmetry. But she sleeps in the day time and only comes out a night."

"That's super," said Fr Phil. "We really values a vampair's lifestyle: they has a lot to contribute. I must invite her round for a bite one evenin."

Who is I to judge this lady's lifestyle?

"Now, how about you, Anti Moly? Is you perchance a lebsian? You is one of the few women round here whose name aint been linked with that of Bishop Keiran Corny."

My dere anti explaned that on the contrary, she had many years ago been deeply in love with a young Austrialan student called Goerge Pell, wot had jumped into a billaboing to avoid her unwanted attentoins. Later he became a preist, and is now a cradinal, but we is sure that secretly he regrets not tyin the knott with Anti Moly.

"Got that? If Anti Moly gets near, shoot on sight."

"Well you ain't no fun, is you?" said Fr Phil in disgust. "It's a two-way process, you know. If you wants the fatted claf and the lovvin welcome as a sinner, you gotta do some interestin sins wot we can admire. Remember the prodigious son's elder bruvver didn't get nuffink."

"I got into a fight wiv some nuns last night," said Bosco hopefully. "I was tellin them rotten critters they wasn't saved, when they started beatin me up. Wot's more, one of em nuns cut my leg up wiv a broken bottle, and I had to have stitches."

Training for a re-match with Bosco next Friday night.

"You ain't been paying attentoin," said Fr Phil grumpily. "It was a Snyodd on the Fambly, and that means SEX. We aint interested in people what does greivous boddily harm, or shopliftin, or other non-sexaul sins. Now clear off, the lotta you."

Et in terra pax

This has been a very good Christmas season for me, as lots of people with whom I disagreed violently have contacted me to admit that I was right all along. To avoid embarrassment, or people checking my claims, I cannot name any names, but here are some heart-warming messages I have received.

Professor D, who wishes to remain anonymous.

A retired professor at a well-known Oxbridge University (which isn't Cambridge) has e-mailed me to say that after reading my blog he has come to the conclusion that I was right all along, and that atheism is bunk. It is embarrassing for him to come out in public and say this, as he runs a "Foundation for Reason and Science" of which the main purpose is (i) to say how wonderful he is, and (ii) to promote atheism. Still, he is hoping to change the name of his foundation when nobody is looking.

Spot the difference!

I then received a Christmas card from another professor, living somewhere near Roehampton, who also feels that it is egg-on-face time. "How could I have been so wrong when I wrote my book God's Mother, Eve's Advocate?" she asks. "Did I not realise that it was in direct contradiction to all mainstream Christian teaching since the first century?"

It's never too late to make amends.

Another distinguished person who contacted me over Christmas was someone who - to spare his blushes - we shall refer to simply as Paul Mirkwood. "You have opened my eyes to the possible richness of liturgy and music," he told me. "Apparently, there's more to worship than singing 'Alleluia-Moo-Moo'." I have put him in contact with the composer James MacMillan, who thinks that it may not be too late to retrain Paul as a musician.

Were sinister plots hatched in this shed?

Of course 2013 was a year in which I was stalked, harassed, calumniated, and generally insulted on Twitter. How I wish I could share with you the fulsome apology I received from a deacon who was to blame for much of this. At 4 a.m. he stood in the street outside my house, yelling, "Eccles, for months I accused you of running dozens of sockpuppets, including Damian Thompson, a lady journalist in Hove, a donkey-breeding teacher in Spain, a midwife, Spock of the Enterprise, Fr Ray Blake, and Fr John Zuhlsdorf. I now realise that I may have exaggerated slightly. Will you ever forgive me?"

"In Cappella Calvariæ nulla salus."

Of course I forgave the deacon, and no sooner had I done this than my dear brother, the first person ever mentioned on this blog - whose name I will anagrammatise to "Scoob" so that nobody can identify him - grabbed me by the hand and said, "Eccles, I have been considering the words of St Cyprian of Carthage, In Cappella Calvariæ nulla salus ('No Salvation in the Calvary Chapel'), and I now realise that I am not as saved as I thought I was."

"Scoob" is baptised, as a first step to Salvation.

More e-mails flooded into my inbox. A Telegraph journalist (the only clue I shall give this time is the word "custard") apologised for blocking me on Twitter - he said that reading my blog made him realise that his own efforts could never be as spiritually nourishing. Phantom Domains (anag.) you are forgiven.

Last, and definitely not least, and this one may even be true: I have been nominated for another award by the great Jessica Hof. I must blog on this separately.

How to write a religious blog II

Well, yesterday's introduction to religious blogging was very popular, and achieved a massive 5 hits, only 4 of which were from me. So, encouraged by this, let me continue to advise you.

When you're writing a blog, it is important to be able to show your readers what you've had to eat. Probably, this is because the reader says to himself, "If I eat frogs' legs/ cornflakes/ roast camel/ peas with honey, then I too can become an archbishop/ a celebrity blogger/ a Tablet journalist/ a saved person." Alas, this is usually not going to happen.

In fact, today I had the best that French cuisine could offer.

Other things that you can do to add the "personal" touch to your blog include photographing key items in your everyday life, such as your cats, your kitchen, your dustbins, perhaps your lavatory.

Now the easiest kind of blog to write is one where you post spiritually nourishing paintings and poems. Such blogs are usually very good, because the material is, by definition, produced by someone talented. This is the sort of thing I mean:

Old Noah he had an ostrich farm and fowls on the largest scale,
He ate his egg with a ladle in a egg-cup big as a pail,
And the soup he took was Elephant Soup and fish he took was 
   Whale,
But they all were small to the cellar he took when he set out to 
   sail,
And Noah he often said to his wife when he sat down to dine,
"I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the 
   wine."

Painting by Breughel, poem by G.K. Chesterton.

See what I mean? This has already improved the quality of my post, immeasurably. And Noah is in the Bible, so is a spiritually nourishing person. Come to think of it, why do I waste my time trying to produce original stuff?

Some blogs are co-operative efforts. Jessica Hof has an excellent blog called All along the watchtower, which has several different authors - some Anglicans, Catholics, a Baptist, and - occasionally - my dear brother Bosco of the Calvary Chapel, who was the inspiration for my own blog. This keeps the blog very active, although there is necessarily a divergence of opinions: if an article begins All pictures of my Lord are false images and idolatry, and shows that the artists didn't have Jesus in their lives like I do, and they'll all be left behind when the Rapture comes. Ha ha! - well, that was probably written by Bosco rather than someone from a mainstream branch of Christianity.

Sorry, Rubens - it's the Lake of Fire for you!

Let's finish today with some ideas on how to write an American priest's blog. Now American priests all have complicated names, such as Zuhlsnecker or Longedorf, so are best referred to simply as "Father M" or "Father Q", as if they were James Bond characters. Unlike British priests, who always lead luxurious well-paid lives, with regular holidays in Tahiti and deacons to wait on them hand and foot, American priests are generally broke, and often need to raise money through their blogs. Their demands vary from 10 cents, which will buy a crust of dry maggotty bread for dinner, up to $500, which will buy a new silk biretta with a special compartment in which to store the priest's handgun.

Do give generously. Buy the coffee they're sponsoring - remember, Mystic Monk coffee makes you live longer and develop a sharper mind, while the rival Numinous Nun coffee causes arthritis and dizzy spells. You know it makes sense.

Finally, two tips for rescuing a blog post when it's running out of steam, as this one is:

Post a picture of some sweet furry creatures (these are possums).

Or use a picture of people making fools of themselves in church.

Eccles is hacked.

I was sittin at de computter yesterday, planning de next bit of spiritaul nuorishment for my long-sufferin readers, viz. an in-depth analysis of de book 1 Kings for de Eccles Bibble project, when I noticed dat de pitchers on my blogg was all disappearin.

Wot is left when your pitchers has gone.

In de words of de Tridentine Mass Cui Bono? wot means "As a benefit to whom?" (Or, in de translatoin done by Mgr Bassil Loftus in the 1960s, "Whose is dem bones?" - I fink he was referrin to Ezekiel 37.)

So we has to look at all de usual suspects.

"Well, if you've all got alibis, we must look elsewhere..."

Reely, the fust on my list of suspects should be my dere Bruvver Bosco, wot is a saved pusson like me. He and I aint never seen eye-to-eye, which is odd as I often just echoes what he is sayin. However, Bosco aint got de technical know-how to hack a saved pusson's blogg: he once spent three weeks unable to logg on to his own blogg cos de CAPS LOCK key was on. He cuoldn't phone de technical support cos he mistook de TV channel changer for a mobile phone.

So it aint Bosco. Nor Anti Moly, whose laptopp aint workin since she threw it at Mgr X. Pell De Mons, de local Cathlic priest.

Bosco shares in his little bruvver's sorrows.

Could it be our dere friend Damain Thopmson, alias Captain Custard? A careless reeder of dis blogg might say dat he was bein mocked occasoinally; more careful reeders knows dat he is learnin a lot from my blogg, and his own little blogg is soundin more and more like a paroddy of mine.

Archbishop Nichols points de finger, but I fink he is wrong.

De fertile mind of Eccles thought a bit more about people who might not apprecaite his writins. Could dear old Richard Dakwins be exasperated by de Eccles Bibble Project, which is forcin him to read a book of de Bibble every week after havvin had it explaned to him by an expert? We is comin up to Sollomon, what was a wise (and slightly saved) pusson - maybe de Professor is scared dat he may be reveeled as not bein very wise himself?

Eccles, come clean now - is it wise to cut babies in half, or not?

Well de list of suspects is long, as dere is many wot doesnt luv poor Eccles. We can rule out Basil Loftus, Giles Fraser, and de staff of de Tablet, as dey aint viscous pussons, dey is kind and luvvin, even if dey is wrong on most fings.

Well, my fust break was when I found a biretta lying round de house. Can it be a clue?

Wot can dis mean?

To be continued...

---

For dem wot cares, I is gonna repare de most recent blosts, and de most poppular, but de rest is gonna be like de Bibble, and have no pitchers.

Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. Eccles. 1:2.