Anglican church tries a "God" experiment

This summer, the Reverend Francis Heppenstall, Anglican Vicar of Twing, has decided to try something new in order to attract congregations to his church. Instead of touristy gimmicks, he is planning to conduct a new type of service in which Christianity will play a major part.

Out go the crazy golf courses. In comes God!

The Church of England's main role, since the Reformation, has been to make it easier for people to divorce their wives and, if necessary, to behead them, but it has always tried to focus on FUN as well (after all, Henry VIII was a keen crazy golf player, as well as a sex maniac). That future saint, John Henry Newman, in his Anglican days, published various tracts on "Let's take religion seriously," but in the end he gave up his Anglican mission and became a Catholic instead.

Out go the helter skelters. Is nothing sacred?

Said Mr Bertram Wooster, a parishioner of Father Heppenstall, "The jolly old Anglican in the pew wants more than just funfairs and circuses; so we have asked old Heppers to liven up things with his forty-five minute sermon on Brotherly Love. That's the sort of thing to give the troops!"

It will be interesting to see whether this new "God" experiment will succeed in attracting the crowds back to Anglicanism. Many have already joined Cardinal Newman in the Catholic Church, where clown Masses, puppet Masses, and LGBT Masses are providing the spiritual nourishment they require. Heppenstall does have the surprising backing of Giles Fraser, the celebrity "loose canon," who is also considering the introduction of hymns and prayers as an alternative to coconut shies and "pin the tail on the donkey." It seems possible, therefore, that this innovation may catch on: we'll keep you informed.

An end to lunar gimmicks in our ancient cathedrals?

Are the Jesuits purely symbolic?

Following a load of heretical claptrap this week from someone with the implausible title of Jesuit Superior General, this blog is concerned with the burning question of the week: do the Jesuits really exist or are they merely symbols of evil?

I am the very model of a modern Jessie General:
I teach the ancient heresies and make sure they're perennial.

It is hard to believe in the reality of any Catholic priest expressing the view that the Devil doesn't exist (the Anglicans have seen similar opinions from the official Comedy Vicar, Giles Fraser of the BBC and Guardian, but he has long been recognised as a mythical figure). Likewise, this General Sosa character was also supposed to have said that one could not rely on the Bible for Jesus's words, as He didn't have a tape-recorder handy. Comedy gold, but not exactly spiritual nourishment.

Theologians attempt to analyse the recorded words of Arturo Sosa.

It is true that there was once a real Jesuit society, founded by St Ignatius of Loyola, which had many very virtuous and holy members. However, it is believed to have died out some time in the 20th century. So, just as "Druid" has become a term referring to a weirdo who likes to cavort around Stonehenge at the Solstice wearing silly clothes, "Goth" is someone who wears black clothes and wouldn't know how to build a cathedral if his life depended on it, and a modern "Vandal" owes little allegiance to Wisimar or Godogisel, you can be sure that anybody with "SJ" after his name is only in it for the laughs.

So what do Jesuits symbolize? Can it be the seven deadly sins?

Fr James Martin SJ - plays Lust in the Jesuit pantomime.

The "official" seven deadly sins are (in order of popularity) lust, gluttony, sloth, greed, wrath, envy and pride. Actually, I tell a lie, they're all pretty popular, and some aren't even recognised as sins. Also, the biggest sins of which Jesuits are symbolic - teaching false doctrine and general thick-headedness - don't seem to have made it into the Premier League of 7. Still, there are some Jesuits who definitely do seem to be there purely to symbolize one particular vice.

Fr Antonio Spadaro SJ - plays Wrath in the Jesuit pantomime.

No, it can't be the seven deadly sins (I can't think of a slothful Jesuit, or even a particularly gluttonous one). But, once you have realised that the Jesuits are not real people, it does raise lots of questions. And of course Pope Francis is also a Jesuit, and beyond criticism: so, even if he is mythical, he must symbolize something.

Pope Francis SJ (right) - symbolises clear and unambiguous teaching, a willingness to answer questions on doctrine, the maintenance of the dignity of the papal office, a respect for tradition, and a refusal to judge, condemn or insult other Catholics.

Pope Francis banned from Britain

Following the Home Office's decision to ban the entry of three persecuted archbishops from Iraq and Syria (Sharaf of Mosul, Shamani of Nineveh Valley, and Alnemech of Homs and Hama), who were invited to participate in the consecration of a Syrian Orthodox cathedral, it has now been revealed that a similar discourtesy was extended to Pope Francis.

The three archbishops, sighted somewhere near Calais.

This is apparently the true explanation of why the Holy Father will be visiting Ireland, the land of "Enda Life" Kenny, in 2018, but not the bigger island next door.

Said a spokesman for Amber Rudd, the Home Secretary. "We received a visa application from an elderly Argentine called Bergoglio, who admitted to being in rather poor health. We are concerned that he may wish to stay here permanently (apparently, he is currently living in Rome and finding things a little hot there), and indeed he may want to use our National Health Service, which is well known to be the best in the world. So obviously we turned the old man down, especially as he was clearly poverty-stricken, being still obliged to work at the age of 79."

"We've found this 53-year-old woman who says she's totally lost."

Said Vice-pope Grima Spadaro, "We haven't totally given up hope of getting a UK visa for Pope Francis. Following the advice of Giles Fraser, we are going to tell people that he's a teenage Muslim, as apparently Britain needs these more than archbishops. The trouble is, the pope is very bad at filling in visa application forms, especially the parts requiring explicit yes/no answers."

Pope Francis adopts a disguise in order to sneak through immigration.

Anglicans and Catholics agree to unite

Following very friendly discussions between Pope Francis and Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, it has been decided that the time has come for the Anglicans and Catholics to recognise that there are no real differences between them, and so to re-unite.

"That's agreed then. You take Tina Beattie off our hands, and we'll take Giles Fraser."

Initially, the joint statement from the pope and archbishop was going to be an admission of defeat, namely:

1. We promise to stop burning and beheading each other 
from now on.
2. We shall carry on disagreeing about almost everything.
3. Er...
4. That's it. How about a cup of tea?

An early attempt at Catholic-Protestant dialogue.

However, a deeper search for possible common ground revealed the following points of agreement:

1. Some Catholics think women should be ordained. 
So do some Anglicans.

2. Some Catholics are happy with same-sex marriage, 
including for priests. So are some Anglicans.

3. Some Catholics are atheists. So are some Anglicans.

4. Some Catholics are fine with abortion. 
So are some Anglicans.

5. Some Catholics are demented lunatics with no 
moral principles whatsoever. So are some Anglicans.

"So you'll wear the white vestments this week, and then next week it's my turn."

As for the liturgical differences that some commentators thought an insuperable barrier to union... well, clown masses, bad vestments, puppets, skateboards, communion in plastic cups, hymns that sound like bad pop songs, children sitting on the altar, balloons, masses where pets are invited, and fancy dress... are all welcome in any church. Or so it seems.

"Just remind me. Am I a Catholic, a Protestant, or a family entertainer?

So that's all right, then.

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.

No jokes in your sermons, please

We have written before on How to make sermons less boring, but a recent poll has indicated that congregations do not like jokes in sermons. So let's have another go at this one.

No jokes. So, I'm afraid, dear Lord, that joke of Yours about straining at a gnat (gamla) and swallowing a camel (gamal) will have to go. It always brings the house down when we have that in the Gospel. Also the story about people having planks in their eyes - well, our focus group isn't too keen.

There was an old lady who swallowed a camel.

Today's tip for preachers is to avoid words and phrases that may trigger giggles in sermons. Here's a short list:

1. The bishop. Like it or not, most bishops are figures of fun. There are exceptions, of course: some are not megalomaniac self-publicists or idle time-servers, but devout and holy men who are true pastors of their sheep. However, in many dioceses the mere mention of the bishop will cause eye-rolling, sniggering, and head-shaking. Especially if he was on the television last night.

A devout and holy man.

2. Richard Dawkins. Although a tragic figure, rather than a comedian per se, he is associated with so many funny stories that his comedy value is more than his value as a source of spiritual nourishment. If he does finally convert, then he will have a natural role as a patron saint of comics. Or possibly honey.

3. The Spirit of Vatican II. It's probably safe to mention Vatican II, which was not inherently funny. However, invoke the Spirit (and the same goes for the Spirit of Laudato Si' or the Spirit of Amoris Laetitia), and the giggling will start.

The Spirit of Amoris Dancer.

4. Tina Beattie. I suppose a blood-and-thunder denunciation of the dear lady from the pulpit, although it would be impressive, is too much to ask for. Mentioning her in the context of Catholic teaching will probably count as a joke. No, avoid the subject.

5. Giles Fraser. Like Dawkins, an endless source of mirth, so much so that the mere mention of his name brings a smile to the face. I suppose that in private he may be a tortured soul who only wants to be loved, but even God must be congratulating Himself on one of his funniest creations.

6. Women bishops, women priests, deaconesses. Stop sniggering at the back.

I said, "Stop sniggering."

7. Paul Inwood. It's difficult to see how the subject might come up in a sermon, unless one of the Biblical readings was about a hideous and ghastly noise (there's probably a suitable text in the book of Revelation), but your audience will now be thinking "Alleluia, Ch-Ch" or "Prepare the way of the Lord, Moo-oo-oo, Moo-oo-oo".

8. Jesuits. Nowadays these are inherently funny, inasmuch as there are more jokes about Jesuits than spiritually nourishing stories. Forget it.

Well, you get the idea. Keep off topics that may trigger laughter. Model yourself on a BBC alternative comic - Jeremy Hardy, say, or Marcus Brigstocke. If they can talk for 20 minutes without making anyone laugh, then you should be able to as well.

Maintain the dignity of the cloth at all times!

Fr James Martin wins Comedy Award

Fr James Martin SJ is known for his gifts as a humorist, often seen in his uncanny ability to draw the wrong conclusions from the Gospel or indeed anything else he comes across. Of course, in Jesuit circles, this is regarded as theological brilliance, while the rest of us simply appreciate it as light comedy.

Fellow-comedians Colbert and Rosica rush to congratulate Martin.

For those of us who hang onto his every word on Twitter, the following Martinism was a classic of the genre.

Wit from Fr James.

This is excellent humour. Nowhere in the Bible nor in Christian tradition is it ever claimed that the Holy Spirit is female. The Catechism of the Catholic Church uses "he". There is a weak argument based on the fact that certain Aramaic words (such as "ruah" or "ruach") are female - similarly, all German girls are neuter (it seems ungallant to point this out, Eccles, they don't all look like Angela Merkel) and cats are female, while French "personnes" are all female.

A female "personne".

Fr James (or should we say "Parent James"?) has had a long and successful career as a comedian. Another of his classic japes was to use the picture below as an argument for women priests. You see, it's a 3rd century woman in what looks vaguely like a dalmatic, so she's obviously a deacon, so...

Lady in a dalmatic (or possibly Demis Roussos).

Therefore we are delighted to announce that Fr James Martin wins the April "Comedy Vicar" award, also known as a "Giles", being a tastefully-designed statuette of Giles Fraser. Congratulations, Father, er Parent, James!

A prestigious "Giles".

For another take on this story, we recommend Faith In Our Families.

Book about Church of England to be pulped

A new book about the Church of England, That Was The Church That Was, by spiritual giants Andrew Brown and Linda Woodhead, has been withdrawn by the publishers because of "a disputed passage about a Christian leader". Damian Thompson has made some valiant efforts to discover what the fuss is about, but only this blog has the real story.

This book is dynamite!

In fact, there are several allegations that the Church of England is desperately trying to suppress. The first concerns its founder, Henry VIII, who is as much a figure of veneration to all Anglicans as St Peter, and the man who earned the title Fidei Defensor, which his successors bear so proudly.

It is claimed that Henry VIII was a nasty piece of work who tended to cut people's heads off whenever he felt like it, and treated at least four of his six "wives" rather badly. If this gossip were to leak out - and so far only readers of this blog know it - then the Church of England would be forced to close.

The skeleton in Justin Welby's cupboard.

Of course, dead people can't sue, and the publishers are really more worried about revelations about living Christian leaders. Take Prince Charles, for example. There are claims that he was a less than totally faithful husband to his first wife, Diana. (We can discount claims that his own father conspired to kill her, either with MI5, Amnesty International, or the Mothers' Union.) Still, this man will - in thirty years or so - become Supreme Governor of the Church, and if the secret ever leaks out...

Will Mo get his chance to be the first Muslim head of the C of E?

Other shocking stories circulating about senior Anglicans include rumours that Archbishop Rowan Williams has converted to druidism, that Archbishop George Carey supports assisted suicide, and that Canon Giles Fraser doesn't really believe in either the Devil or the Virgin Birth. If any of these turns out to be true, then the C of E may as well close down now and give most of its churches back to the Catholics.

The Archbishop of Stonehenge.

As Damian Thompson puts it: "For the time being, the Church of England is being protected from this atrocious book by somebody’s lawyers. But for how long?"

Cardinal Wolsey claims success in Europe

London, 1529.

Ahead of the forthcoming referendum on whether the Church of England should remain part of the Catholic Church (a referendum in which only kings called Henry Tudor will be allowed to vote), prime minister Thomas Wolsey has returned from Europe claiming success in his negotiations.

"Call me Tom" Wolsey.

According to the negotiated settlement, King Henry will be allowed a quota of six wives, of which a maximum of two may be executed; most importantly, the first marriage may be annulled on the solid theological grounds that Henry is a lecherous slob. Caveat: these demands will be granted subject to a "red cardinal" system whereby they have to be approved by a majority of all the cardinals.

Other "English" demands will also be granted within a time-frame of at most 500 years (this is called "applying the emergency brake"). These include the right to conduct masses in English, with or without clowns and puppets, and to sing silly songs about Jesus shining and being Lord of the Dance. More extreme Anglican demands, such as the right to ordain women, are still rejected by the Catholic Church.

Thomas Cromwell, star of the Guardian's "Cromwell is free" pages.

The "leave Europe" campaign is currently being spearheaded by two theological giants, the blogger Cranmer and the very influential Thomas "Let's dissolve the churches" Cromwell.

It therefore seems unlikely that "Tom" Wolsey will be able to avoid defeat in the Reformation Referendum, and his future is now very uncertain.

Bearding the Muslim in his lair

The suggestion by Richard Chartres, Anglican bishop of London, that growing beards can help vicars reach out to Muslims has been eagerly taken up by clerics everywhere. Male and female, vicars have stopped shaving, or, where necessary, rushed off to joke shops to buy Muslim-friendly false beards.

Richard Chartres is not shaved, only Eccles is shaved.

Curiously, this ties in with the experience of St Wilgefortis, a medieval noblewoman who managed to avoid an unwanted marriage by growing a beard. History does not record whether she later managed to reach out to Muslims.

Lovely Wilgefortis.

For us, it is not clear what happens when a vicar "reaches out" to a Muslim. Does the Muslim think "Hmm, Christians are just like us. Time to stop reading the Koran and study Giles Fraser's hard-hitting How to be a Christian without believing very much"? Yes, that must be it. Ayatollah El-Vees at the Guitar Mosque will see congregations dropping as Father Trendy packs the Muslims into his 10 a.m. "Clowns and hoverboards" Mass.

The Rev. Kate Bottley, the "dancing vicar", gets evangelising.

Well, we are all for convertng the Muslims, as it's pretty clear that they've got things wrong from beginning to end. Now is surely the time for Pope Francis to grow a beard - our extensive researches (clicking on Wikipedia) have revealed that the last bearded pope was Innocent XII, who died in 1700, and even his beard wasn't enough to reach out to many Muslims.

Pope Innocent XII. Not exactly a Rowan Williams, or even a Brian Blessed.

Over to you, Holy Father!

God apologises for causing hurt and pain to the LBGT community

Following endless protests, the Lord God Almighty has apologised to the LBGT community for His "insensitive" behaviour to them over the years.

An insensitive act of destruction.

Facing protestors, He explained, "With hindsight, some people may think that raining down fire from Heaven on Sodom and Gomorrah was a somewhat tactless way of treating the LBGT community. I particularly wish to apologise to Mr Lot for turning his wife into a pillar of salt, when all she was doing was 'rubber-necking'. Still, she made a great conversation piece."

He continued: "Nowadays, I realise that my role as Judge Eternal, Throned in Splendour could be regarded as controversial. I can reassure the American Episcopalians that I shall attempt to regard them in a more tolerant and sympathetic light from now on, and there will be no punishment for them in this world. Why, I'll even drop some 'gay manna' from Heaven, if they insist."

Gay manna.

God the Son was equally contrite. "When I said that marriage could only take place between a man and a woman, I made this comment in haste, without consulting Giles Fraser first. Although it is a self-evident truth, and I do still believe it, I feel that I may have been a little insensitive to mention it."

The Holy Spirit joined in the apologies: "Inspiring Christian writers such as St Paul and St Jude to make homophobic comments was perhaps a little tactless. Good chaps, but they did get carried away sometimes. Still, compared with the Muslims, they were really rather tolerant!"

Archbishop Welby welcomed the Trinitarian apology, and recommended to the Anglican Communion that they continue worshipping God, "at least for the time being".

Primate gathering in Canterbury

Over now to the Anglican Communion, where the news is that Canterbury will be hosting the long-awaited gathering of primates. Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, is representing the humans, but - the Anglicans being a very broad church - we shall also see baboons, gorillas, chimpanzees, etc. taking part. There will also be a guest keynote speech from King Küng the dissident Catholic.

Veneration of relics, from the last gathering in 2001

The meeting is expected to be very controversial, with disagreement on a variety of topics. For example, vestments: only the human clergy tend to wear clothes in church, but that is because (with the exception of Rowan Williams) they are not entirely covered in fur. Also, consider the case of Katharine Jefferts Schori. She wears the worst vestments you've ever seen outside a clown act in the circus, but the prospect of her stripping off is even more terrifying.

Keep them on, Kathy!

Another issue is bananas. No, nothing to do with the views of Giles Fraser (who accidentally wrote something sensible recently), but the fruit. Many primates find it hard to obtain bread and wine, and would prefer bananas as an alternative for Communion.

Then there's swinging from the beams, while scratching oneself under the arms. For many primates this is an acceptable form of worship, but for conservative Anglicans it may be a liturgical dance too far.

More tea, vicar?

Then there is the liturgy. Could it not be reduced to a simple "Oook!"? The Catholic Paul Inwood has offered to produce a chant "Alleluia, oook, oook!" in the interests of ecumenical understanding.

Indeed, the Vatican itself has been very much involved in Primates 2016, lending St Gregory's crozier to the Church of England for the occasion (also, as it happens, Canterbury Cathedral, which has been on loan on and off since 1536).

The Vatican marks the primate gathering

Good luck, chaps! Oook oook oook!

A good thrashing for Giles Fraser

The story began when Giles Fraser, the ultra-liberal Anglican priest, journalist and radio personality, wrote a particularly nasty piece denying the reality of the Virgin Birth. According to Father Giles, who clearly doesn't have much time for Bible-reading, Jesus was the product of fornication - or possibly rape; which makes it rather hard to see how He would be the Son of God.

A hatchet job on the Mystery of the Incarnation? No problem!

Now Pope Francis has said that if anyone were to insult his mother, then they would deserve a punch, and clearly the same must apply to anyone who insulted the Mother of God. However, the Holy Father tends to be quite busy at Christmas, and so dashing over to London to give a heretic a "poke in the snoot" may not be one of his priorities. So it was up to Eccles to stand up for Jesus.

A few possibilities occurred to me:

De-bag Giles and throw him in the river. Unfortunately the Thames is rather deep, and I don't know how well he can swim. It would also lead to strange news items about beached whales.

Horsewhip him on the steps of his club, the "Champagne Socialists". It might be hard to catch him there, and anyway I don't suppose he'd stay around long enough.

Catch him in his church, St Mary's, Newington, and hit him with a cricket bat. Now we're talking. As it happens I have a nice bat that I bought from the recently unsuccessful cricketer Ian Bell ("hardly used").

Keeping the bat away from anything that might damage it.

So off I toddled to St Mary's Newington. I had asked my great friend Father Zuhlsdorf, "What is the liturgically correct time in the service to assault a priest?" but he was not sure, since it was going to be an Anglican service. I remained peaceful throughout the Gospel (readings from Giles's old Guardian columns), the sermon (or "Thought for the Day"), and even the shortened Creed, which went as follows:

We believe in God, more-or-less;
And Jesus may even have existed;
And we've got no problems with the Holy Spirit;
And we're all going to Heaven. Amen.

It was just as a hymn was announced (something about the People's Flag being Deepest Red, which was unknown to me), that I noticed a strangely familiar man sitting next to me.

A strangely familiar man

He was clearly in his mid-seventies, but he dressed as a teenager, and had evidently sewn a new message on to his shirt. "Aren't you Richard Dawkins, the famous zoologist, theologian, bus-driver and poet?" I asked. "What are you doing in church?"

"I was so impressed by Giles Fraser's Guardian article that I have decided to sign up to Anglicanism," replied the learned professor. "I have finally discovered that religion doesn't actually involve believing in anything..."

I was disconcerted. If Father Giles was winning converts, then perhaps I should defer his thrashing to another occasion, or even cancel it. I walked out of his church, and from a nearby Catholic church I heard groans of "MERCY! MERCY!" as the congregation reacted to the Paul Inwood "Year of Mercy" chant (1024 repetitions of the same banal tune). Yes, I should show mercy. Happy Christmas, Giles, even if you don't believe a word of it.

We wish you a miserable Christmas

This year, Catholics, Anglicans and atheists have a single message for us. Pope Francis, no less, has told us that, this year, Christmas is a charade. Father Giles Fraser of the BBC is dreaming of a Blue Christmas. Finally, there's Kevin McKenna of the Guardian with a rant, Away with the manger! It's a holiday, not a holy day.

Down with this sort of thing (even the outsize king)!

That's that, then. No carol-singing, please; no wishing people - even Christians - a Happy Christmas; I think it may be OK to say "Season's Greetings", since that can be said at any time, and doesn't actually mean anything. "Happy Holidays" is also out, but the sort of people who say that are miserable humourless Guardian-reading types anyway.

So how should we "celebrate" Christmas? Will sitting in a dark cupboard for three days satisfy our distinguished commentators? Or should we go out into the streets and cry "Woe, woe, and thrice woe!"?

"Woe, woe, and thrice woe!"

We've already had many happy festivals recently, what with Hallowe'en, Guy Fawkes Night, Thanksgiving, Black Friday (your mileage may vary here), so it seems a bit excessive to rejoice just because God sent his Son to the Earth to redeem mankind - hey! most of us didn't even need redeeming, as my spiritual director, Fr Phil of St Daryl the Apostate's Church, is at pains to point out.

Many will say that the usual way to celebrate Christmas - eating and drinking until you feel ill, sending cards to people you hate, buying people presents they don't want, watching rubbish on the television, etc. - is quite enough to make most of us miserable, and that this is what God (or at least the Pope) wants. So how can we stamp out the other, more joyful, aspects of Christmas - those that somehow associate it with Christ?

Private Eye is apparently unaware of The Return of the J.C. (H/T Gareth Hurley)

As Fr Phil put it in last year's Midnight Mass sermon to a congregation of three (one old lady with her hearing-aid turned off, a sleeping man who had walked in by mistake after the pub closed, and myself), "My text today is from an old English carol, We all like figgy pudding. (We shall be singing this later as our offertory hymn, in an arrangement by Paul Inwood.) Some of you may be feeling guilty at this point - perhaps you don't like figgy pudding? It is important to realise that these words, like 'We believe in God', are purely a liturgical cliché. Following the Spirit of Vatican II, we realise that they do not commit us to anything. God loves us all - in a metaphorical sense - even those who have chosen a jam roly-poly pudding lifestyle."

Purely symbolic - like angels, shepherds, God, etc.

Well, Fr Phil's sermons are usually too deep for me, but I think that - as usual - he is liberating us from the more traditional aspects of Christian worship, such as Christmas. That leaves us free to be as miserable as we wish. Enjoy!