An exclusive interview with Cardinal Roche

A slightly edited version of the Catholic Herald piece.

"Three plates of tiramisu will be enough, thanks. After all, it is Lent!"

Cardinal Roche is one of four English cardinals currently serving, and has just turned 75. Following the elevation of Timothy Radcliffe, his title of England's Worst Cardinal is now in danger.

CH: Your Eminence...

AR: Just call me "Holy Father" - after all, you'll be doing that in a few weeks, anyway!

CH: Holy Father, then. This year marks the golden jubilee of your ordination. Could you tell us about some of the wonderful things you've done over the last 50 years?

AR: Well, we 'ad it tough in Yorkshire, you know. No plates of tiramisu then - it were black puddings and chip butties for dinner, if we were lucky. If not, it were lumps of coal and wood shavings. But even when I were a few months old, I knew that I were going to end up as pope.

A young Arthur Roche discerns his vocation.

CH: So you gave up ice skating (© Damian Thompson) and became a priest?

AR: Yes, I were sent to the English College at Valladolid. I had no idea where it were, I thought it were somewhere near Barnsley, but it turned out to be in Spain, where they talk funny. Anyway, after I had learned everything there is to learn about being holy, I ended up in Leeds, where they put me in charge of organizing Pope John-Paul II's visit to York. Telling the pope and cardinals what they must do - well that were good practice for later life.

CH: And you ended up as Bishop of Leeds?

"Yes, my policy of closing down churches were very popular."

CH: And then Benedict XVI asked you to become secretary of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments in Rome - and when Cardinal Sarah turned 75 you got his job?

"Aye, I were always very loyal to Cardinal Sarah."

CH: What advice would you give to those who want to remain faithful members of the Church and love the Latin Mass but find themselves restricted in attending?

AR: There is nothing wrong with attending the Mass celebrated with the 1962 missal.

CH interviewer falls on the floor in astonishment. Bravely carries on...

CH: But you have been trying to suppress it! (Note: the CH didn't actually point this out.)

AR: Ah, but that was before the Pope were taken ill. Of course we all want him to get better - after all I led the Rosary prayers in St Peter's Square on March 4th, and people said that my Italian was the best by a Yorkshireman since Geoffrey Boycott led a Rosary for England during the Headingley Test Match.

Eee, this Rosary's all a mystery to me, lads!

But the St Wilfrid Mafia told me that if I wanted to guarantee becoming the next pope I needed to change tack quickly. Otherwise we might end up with Parolin, Tagle, or some other unspeakable person (er, could you delete these remarks from the final transcript? Thanks!)

CH: Anyway, you have always liked the Latin Mass?

AR: Well, if they only knew that most days I order my tiramisu in Latin because it is the common language for all of us here! Which reminds me, perhaps another plate would be good after all - I'm feeling a little peckish now!

Anyway, I promise you, the TLM is safe with me! Except where it isn't, of course.

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.

Call my Bluff!

For each word below we have three definitions. Which is the correct one?

Choudary

Looking forward to a bowl of choudary!

1. A choudary is a strongly flavoured soup made of pork. Seen in expressions such as That disgusting choudary has made me feel a little sick.

2. No, "choudary" is a Shakespearean form of "cowardly". See for example, Henry V: Go, go; you are a counterfeit choudary knave!

3. In fact, a choudary is a a cricket stroke that goes badly astray. The word is a corruption of the surname of the late Colin Cowdrey, an England cricket captain. For example: That was a pathetic choudary! Mr grandmother could have done better with a stick of rhubarb! (© Geoffrey Boycott)

A choudary.

Bergoglio

1. Clearly, it's a variation on "imbroglio". After the fiasco of the Extraordinary Synod on the Family, the situation in the Church has become a real bergoglio!

2. Nonsense, it's an Argentine dance, similar to the tango. I'm really looking forward to the next Mass: we're performing a liturgical bergoglio in honour of the bishop!

Time to begin the bergoglio!

3. Actually, it's a very humble peasant dish, something like a stew. The Holy Father came to the canteen today, and ate a simple dish of llama bergoglio!

Pepinster

1. It means a stern governess, of unimpeachable moral character but few religious convictions. The word is a portmanteau of (Mary) "Poppins" and "spinster". "Just a spoonful of sugar helps the Bitter Pill go down!" sang the pepinster.

Mary Pepinster.

2. As you knew all along, it's a very hot spice, something like pepper. Ye are the pepinster of the Earth, and I'm sick of the lot of you! (from the apocryphal Gospel of St Catherine)

3. Obviously, it's a specialised term for someone who controls the puppets in a religious service. The word is a corruption of "puppet minister". The pepinster overslept this morning, so we had to celebrate Mass without using the Teletubby dolls.

The Pilgrim's Ogress 6: the ACTA of the Apostle

Continued from Part 5

The story so far: Pope Francis has asked Eccles to infiltrate the rebel organization ACTA and find out its secrets. St Luke takes up the tale.

It's BEHIND you, Luke!

1. I offer to you, Theophilus, the story of the Apostle Eccles, a godly man who was known for writing a blog containing much spiritual nourishment.

2. Now Eccles was sent by Pontifex to see the people of ACTA. These were men who followed strange teachers such as Hans Küng, he whose statue lies in the desert even unto this day.

My name is Ozymandias, Küng of Küngs. Look on my works ye mighty, and despair!

3. Some years before this, a man named Arthur was bishop in the land of Yorkshire, where the men live on chip butties and strange batter puddings.

4. Now Arthur had translated the Mass into English. For the previous translation had been done in a hurry by one who had been found wanting in Latin, and it bore little resemblance to the words handed down by our forefathers.

5. And his friends gave aid unto Arthur, lest he use phrases such as "Eee, by gum" and "Where there's muck, there's brass" in his translation.

"My granny could've hit that wi' a stick of rhubarb" - a Yorkshire phrase, not used in the Mass.

6. So when he had done his work, Arthur was himself translated - to Rome.

7. But the men of ACTA, having seen Arthur's translation, were full of wrath, saying, "Lo! It bears the mark of authority, not to mention arthurity, and we want none of it."

8. Indeed, one of them said: Because of the insistence on using English words as close as possible to their Latin equivalents, substantial parts of the new rite in English are ungainly, long-winded and obscure.

9. I ask thee, Theophilus, to note their use of words insistence, possible, equivalent, substantial and obscure, which are good short Anglo-Saxon words, such as the men of ACTA would prefer.

10. Meanwhile, Eccles was now accepted by ACTA as one of their number, having stolen a cardinal's biretta as a gesture against the tyranny of the Vatican.

11. Thus they taught unto Eccles the secret handshake, and showed him a dreadful vow to be made by full members of ACTA, which no man durst speak except inside a pentagram.

The secret vow of ACTA.

11. Then the men of ACTA told Eccles of their further plans, and he was sore afraid.

12. For they said, "There is another traddy work that we reject, and it is called the Bible. For it speaketh of God, and sin, and judgement, and redemption, which are ideas totally against the Spirit of Vatican II."

13. "We call on the Pope to suppress this book entirely. We suggest that he appoint a committee to provide a new translation, deleting all the embarrassing bits, leaving just a few jolly stories about donkeys and sheep, that will offend no man."

Jonah - too obsessed with evil to be retained in the New ACTA Bible.

14. "And for our committee we propose the names of Leonardo Boff, Hans Küng, Tina Beattie, and Ann Lardeur."

15. "Plus of course Stephen Fry: for Stephen Fry is omnipresent, just as God used to be until the 1960s."

16. So, having learned of their plans, Eccles left the people of ACTA, and returned to his aunt Moly, who declared that it was "woeful".

To be continued by another author.

Eccles Boycott Day

It has not escaped our attention that this blog is not universally loved.

Eccles Boycott.

The problem is that we don't show respect to the vain and proud: this naturally grates with the vain and proud community. Also we attempt to make jokes (sometimes not very good ones), which offend the humourless community. St Mary had the same problem: compose a Magnificat in which you claim that God puts down the mighty from their seats, and you get hate mail from the mighty, claiming that they will certainly hold their seats at the next election.

Mighty indeed - but is his seat in danger?

Now, if you are in a high-profile position and call yourself a Catholic, while putting forward doctrines that are simply heretical, then Eccles may poke fun at this fact. If you are an atheist who spends his life attacking religions and their adherents, you may just get a little prod in return. As a politician, enact legislation which is an attack on Christian values, and this will be pointed out. If you are aggressive but patently absurd, then the best way to counter you is by mockery? No?

No. Let's attack Eccles's blog. Oh look, someone has recommended one of his posts. DO THEY KNOW that 4 months ago some idiot posted a nasty comment on the thread below his blog, which Eccles deleted the same day? This proves that Eccles is a nasty "Bernard Manning" type, who does not scruple to curse and swear, who is racist and sexist, and who probably eats babies.

Eccles's lunch.

Oh look, someone on Twitter has set up a "mock-puppet" parody account. That must have been Eccles, as he does parodies on his blog occasionally. Admittedly it doesn't SOUND like Eccles, but then he is a master of all styles and all languages - in his spare time he no doubt runs a Korean parody account mocking Kim Jong-un.

"It may not sound like Eccles, but I've got an ear for these things."

Eccles has written a post pointing out the absurd attempts by journalists to pigeon-hole the new pope: let's tell everyone it was an attack on Pope Francis! Throw mud at Eccles, you know it makes sense!

So let's make today Eccles Boycott Day. Don't read his blog, and harass anyone who tries to. All right?

Novus Ordo Cricket

With apologies to non-Cricketians who may worship the ball that is base, or even subscribe to one of the many cults of the ball called foot.

Following the 1960s Vatican II reforms, the Cricketic Church introduced a Novus Ordo form of its service, which upset many traditionalist worshippers.

Novus Ordo cricket. Note the unusual liturgical vestments.

In the Tridentine form of the service (named after the Council of Trent Bridge), worship was often not deemed to be completed until a "testing" period of 5 days of prayer (or Quinquena) had elapsed.

Father Shepherd knew the correct liturgical gestures.

Typically, the prayers varied over the five days, perhaps along the following lines:

Day 1: Australia batting well. A prayer that the Lord may aid 
his servants Anderson, Swann, and the other bowlers. 
Day 2: Australia declares: Ite. Inningus est, and England bats.
A prayer that the Lord may sustain Cook, Trott, and the
other batsmen.
Day 3: England batting collapses (this is traditional). Readings 
from the book of Job.
Day 4: Australia bats again. A prayer for rain.
Day 5: England, set 947 to win, manage 111 all out. A requiem 
mass for English cricket, including the burning of bails. Ashes 
to ashes...

The veneration of relics is an important part of the Tridentine game.

However, in the Novus Ordo service, some of the dignity and reverence shown in the Tridentine form simply disappeared. The wise theological advice, dig thou in, lad, just stay there for a few days, don't try to score any runs, found in the Gospel of St Geoffrey of Boycott, was replaced by an undignified scramble, as the whole service was rushed through in a matter of hours.

Liturgical dancing - what next?

Still there are hopeful signs for the future, as the Tridentine form of the game is still permitted, and a new generation of worshippers is favouring it. Curiously, some of the Latin terminology used in the older form of the game persists, and even the Novus Ordo service includes phrases such as Howzat? (Latin for "Hath he not transgressed?")

The Lord's temple - pavilioned in splendour and girded with praise.

Finally, whether or not they prefer the Ordinary Form or the Extraordinary Form of the game, Cricketics everywhere will treasure the words of Ezekiel 41:24: And in the two doors on both sides were two little doors, which were folded within each other: for there were two wickets on both sides of the doors.

St Geoffrey of Boycott smites the ungodly.