Putting pressure on the Pope

When you run a very popular blog that is read by nearly four people, as I do and as Mike Lewis of Where Pacha Is does, you have to be careful what you write as you never know who will see it.

See the problem?

Every morning Pope Francis dips into Where Pacha Is to see what brilliant thing he should be doing that day. Maybe an aeroplane trip in order to announce some shiny new doctrine on same-sex climate change? Perhaps he expects another visit from Austen Ivereigh, who will be doing his Judy Garland impersonation, singing "We're off to see the Synod, the Wonderful Synod of Sin"? Or IS THERE A BISHOP HE SHOULD SACK?

Well, of course there are quite a few bishops who should be sacked, or, more precisely, put in a sack and dropped at the bottom of the ocean, but this a blog of love and kindness and we won't mention them by name. Until next time.

The pressure begins to tell on Pope Francis.

Usually, the Pope has no problems reading Where Pacha Is. Its main message is "Pope Francis is right on everything, even when he's wrong, and if he says something that contradicts previous popes, saints, etc. then they must have been wrong. Or, more precisely, since the Magisterium is constantly changing, they were right at the time, but definitely wrong now. He's also amazingly handsome and charming." But sometimes, WPI tries to predict how the Magisterium will develop, and Pope Francis cannot keep up.

Fortunately, a man of great influence and sensitivity like the Where Pacha Is supremo knows where to draw the line. Well done!

Pope Francis also takes advice on how to cook sausages.

Career options in the modern world

As regular readers of this blog will know, I am a particularly nasty piece of work. My way of relaxing in the evening is to pull the wings off butterflies or to torture sweet little kittens. So, watching the way poor Alfie Evans has been treated, I was pleased to see lots of possible new career openings.

Judge.

It's a pity they abolished hanging. Unlike Peter Cook, I do have enough Latin to be a judge, and I would have loved to be able to sentence some screaming villain - or preferably someone totally innocent - to death by hanging. I look really nice in a black cap. Also, a judge is the boss in his own court (sorry, no inclusive language on this blog). Fawning barristers address him as "My Lord".

And in this modern era, judges can sentence people to death once more. Oh, not terrorists who kill hundreds of people, there's no fun in that. Still, they can sentence helpless children to death, by removal of water, nutrition, even air, if some doctors say it is the right thing to do. Then they watch the parents suffer! But they won't let judges wear a black cap.

Doctor.

I wouldn't be a very good doctor. A priest came to see me complaining of clergyman's knee (this was one of those rigid priests who still thought that kneeling was an appropriate activity). I helped him by taking out his appendix out with a carving knife: the operation was a success but the patient died.

In the bad old days doctors had the Hippocratic oath, so abortion was out, and euthanasia was also forbidden. Especially the unwanted euthanasia of a child, where the parents were fighting for his life. Not any more! No matter if the whole world is shocked - the Pope, the Italian ambassador, the President of Poland, sundry other Americans, etc. Even Kim Jong-un said "Crikey! I wish I'd thought of that!"

Policeman.

Hello, hello, hello! I want to join the police force to maintain law and order, to serve the causes of justice, and to help the public. So I could spend the night standing outside a child's hospital room, making sure that nobody came in and interfered with him by giving him oxygen or water! Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho!

Bishop.

SITUATIONS VACANT. ARCHBISHOP OF KNOTTY ASH. Would suit someone who is vaguely interested in Catholicism (no previous experience necessary). Warning - if you're the sort who likes to give a moral lead on subjects such as putting children to death, then this job is not for you. No, we're looking for someone who will network well with non-Christians, and definitely won't rock the boat.

And don't even think about becoming Cardinal Archbishop of Elephant and Castle, as you have to have your spine removed as part of the terms and conditions of employment.

As Jesus said, "Well you *could* stick up for the weak and helpless, but I don't advise it as it might make you unpopular."

"I now declare this death camp open."

How social media bring people to the Catholic Church

In the news this week is Youtuber (whatever that is) Lizzie Estrella Reezay, who has announced her conversion to Catholicism. Apparently, social media are bringing in converts by the zillion: this blog will try and discover why.

"I owe it all to reading the Eccles blog."

Says one convert, "I feel that the Catholic Church is truly united behind Pope Francis at present. There is a general sense of well-being. He has solved the problems of China, by allowing them to appoint their own bishops, and probably the next Pope as well. He has waved his hand and made all the sex and financial scandals vanish into thin air. He has written a document on marriage and the family, Amoris Laetitia, that everyone can agree on. He has made some brilliant appointments of cardinals, by choosing the most unlikely people! What a time to be alive!"

"I'll have the shepherd's pie, made with real shepherds." No wonder people would rather be Catholics.

Said another convert, "I like the way new Catholics are made welcome. Austen Ivereigh - surely one of the giants of Catholic journalism - has described us as neurotic, and he is spot on! Then there's Professor Doctor Doctorior Doctorissimus Massimo Faggioli, a man whose knowledge of Catholic theology since 2013 (when the subject was invented) is second to none: he has warned us against conservative converts, and quite right too. Apparently the Catholic catechism will soon contain a section explaining that we should support Marxism, and that's only fair."

"Walter Kasper is my hero. A pillar of orthodoxy and traditional teaching."

Another convert spoke of the powerful work of Father James Martin LGBTSJ in driving people into the Catholic Church. "His new book, Digging a hole, is pure genius, and explains how we should all strive to go downhill. As explained in the papal encyclicals Facilis descensus Averno and Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate, there is wide path that we can all follow, paved with good intentions, and this is the way he wants Catholics to go."

But why do people rely on social media for their spiritual nourishment? Instead, could the Catholic Church not appoint people as leaders - you know, generally-respected shepherds of the sheep, who could give guidance? We would expect such people to speak out on issues of public concern. I've even thought of a name for them - bishops!

A bishop, showing leadership.

No, there's no hope there, and so people are driven to social media for guidance.

A final word from another convert: "In the end, the most effective tool for Evangelisation is surely the Eccles blog. Pope Francis is a regular reader of his "How to be a good pope" advice column; Peter Hitchens has never been the same since it was pointed out to him that Queen Elizabeth I martyred Catholics; Antonio Spadaro hangs on his every word. It can't be long before these three people (and many others) come out as Catholics." He's right, you know.

What was the quality of the service you received?

Thank you for attending divine worship this weekend. Please take the time to fill in the following ecumenical questionnaire, as we are constantly trying to improve the quality of our services.

1. What was the first thing you noticed on arriving at your place of worship?

a) A man high up in the tower shouting "Allahu Akbar!"
b) The jolly ringing of church bells, intermingled with the screams 
of someone who had caught his foot in the bellrope.
c) Hooting and swearing from drivers trying to park their cars.
d) A solemn silence.
e) An axe flying past your head and a cry of "Odin is great!"

"Welcome to our humble service of worship. I'm the vicar."

2. Did you have difficult finding a seat?

a) No, as there were only three people present.
b) Yes, but I kicked out old Granny Bannister, and took her place.
c) We do not sit in our church, but meditate while standing on our 
heads.
d) No, but a bouncer removed me, hissing "Get out of the bishop's 
cathedra!"
e) No, because I was part of the clown procession, and had a reserved 
bath of custard to lie in.

The liturgical significance of custard has been under-estimated.

3. Which (if any) of the following sacred beings were mentioned during the sermon?

a) Pope Francis.
b) Fr James Martin SJ.
c) Lord Oates, the Quaker Maximus.
d) The crocodile god.
e) Rowan Williams.
f) Donald Trump.
g) The Duchess of Cambridge.

"I take as my text the 2000th tweet of St James to the Twitteratians"

4. The sign of peace. What do you do?

a) We don't have it, although we are allowed to smile at our neighbours
if we don't get too excited.
b) As little as possible, but usually one or two people catch me.
c) I embrace as many as I can, and later go round to the houses of 
all the people I missed.
d) I grab my neighbour's hand firmly, and squeeze until he cries 
for mercy.
e) In our church we smoke a pipe of peace.

No, I don't know, either.

5. What music was there?

a) Gregorian chant.
b) Sankey's Sacred Songs and Solos ("Throw out the lifeline 
across the dark wave; There is a brother whom someone should save").
c) 100 Hymns for Hippies.
d) Something old, tuneful, and spiritually nourishing.
e) The Kevin Mayhew book of Bad Hymns.

"The organist is sick, but Mr Banerjee has agreed to play 'Shine, Jesus, Shine' on the nose-flute instead."

6. What was on offer after the service?

(a) Coffee and Eccles cakes in the church hall.
(b) Gin, toiler cleaner and hair-restorer, chez Anti Moly.
(c) Cold tap water (we are tops for asceticism).
(d) The priest's own-brand spinach wine.
(e) As much liturgical custard as we could drink.

"More gin, vicar?"

Thank you for completing our questionnaire, and if you have any further comments please keep them to yourself.

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!

Waiting for Vincent

With apologies to Samuel Beckett.

ESTRAGON: Any sign of Vincent yet?

VLADIMIR: No. Perhaps he didn't get our letter.

ESTRAGON: Fancy having to call him "Your Eminence" just like a real cardinal.

VLADIMIR: He is a real cardinal.

ESTRAGON: Oh. I thought that was a joke. Like Kasper.

Waiting for Vincent.

VLADIMIR: It doesn't have to be Vincent. One of the other bishops would do.

ESTRAGON: Even Smiffy. Or Conry.

VLADIMIR: No, not Conry. But one of the others.

ESTRAGON: So I told Vincent, "All you have to do..."

VLADIMIR: All he has to do...

ESTRAGON: "... is sort out Tina Beattie."

Tina - needs sorting out.

VLADIMIR: Give a moral lead.

ESTRAGON: Explain Catholic teaching to her.

VLADIMIR: Professor of Catholic Studies. Theological adviser to CAFOD.

ESTRAGON: Trustee of the Tablet...

VLADIMIR: Let's stick to her Catholic credentials, shall we?

ESTRAGON: Sorry. Now what was Vincent going to tell her?

VLADIMIR: Abortion is bad. Wrong. Sinful. Immoral.

ESTRAGON: That's not our team, is it?

VLADIMIR: No, no, we want babies to live. Humans of all ages.

Admittedly, not all babies are sweet.

ESTRAGON: Even teenagers?

VLADIMIR: Yes even teenagers have a right to live.

ESTRAGON: Being Catholic is tough sometimes.

VLADIMIR: Of course the Polish bishops will probably write to her.

ESTRAGON: They'll say: Czemu nie pójdziesz i trzymać głowę w toalecie?

VLADIMIR: I didn't know you spoke Polish. What does it mean?

ESTRAGON: Why don't you go and stick your head down the toilet?

VLADIMIR: Look, I only asked...

ESTRAGON: No, that's what it means. "Why don't you go and stick your head down the toilet?"

VLADIMIR: Do bishops say that sort of thing?

ESTRAGON: Think of it as offering a baptism.

VLADIMIR: Washing away her sins.

ESTRAGON: Vincent will say that when he turns up.

Missing person.

VLADIMIR: How long have we been waiting now?

ESTRAGON: For a moral lead?

VLADIMIR: Yes.

ESTRAGON: Six years.

VLADIMIR: Not long now, then...

Woman believes she is a bishop

Psychologists are struggling to cope with a wave of "identification" crises. First we saw the case of Bruce Jenner, fathering six children and then deciding that he was really a woman and should be called Caitlin - although to be convinced that he was female we'd really need to see photos of him getting off the sofa and doing the washing up.

Nano the cat.

Next, we saw the Norwegian girl Nano, who said that she was really a cat trapped in a human's body. It is not known whether she lives on a diet of Whiskas and voles, but to be fair, she does claim to hunt mice at night, so maybe she really is a cat. Who are we to judge?

However, another case that has come to our attention strains the limits of credulity even further.

Rachel the bishop.

Rachel Treweek, a 50-something speech therapist, has taken to dressing as a bishop, even referring herself as a "Lord Spiritual" and "Bishop of Gloucester". The UK being a tolerant place, nobody has challenged her when she goes around wearing bishop-clothes, especially as she shows better taste than the American "bishop" Katharine Jefferts Schori.

The case of women self-identifying as bishops is uniquely a late-20th and early-21st century phenomenon. Tell the great theological giants of the 16th century - Luther, St Thomas More, Henry VIII, Cranmer - that a woman could be a bishop, and they would have laughed at you (or, in the case of Henry VIII, cut off your head). Tell Jesus Himself, and He would patiently have sat down and explained the priesthood to you, possibly driving out any demons of which you happened to be possessed.

Candidates may attempt not more than three of these.

Ahead of the rest of the world as usual, Brighton school children are now asked to self-identify by gender/sex; so in addition to the perfectly normal male, female, tomboy, transylvanian, tri-gender, hidden agender, and twenty-odd further options, kids will now be able to choose tomcat, moggy, bishop, lord spiritual, and various other combinations. So please be sympathetic to poly-gendered feline bishops.

Letters to the Catholic Herald

SIR,

I was horrified by the rude and offensive article from Damian Thompson, entitled "Can Bad Catholic Music be stopped?" I have always regarded Damian as a very meek and mild writer, without a harsh word to say about anyone; hence, this sudden meltdown came as a shock to me, and, may I add, to my fellow-members of the Royal Association of Bad Catholic Musicians. In particular it caused distress to Bernadette Farrell (lovely lady, she rehearses all her hymns with the aid of a kazoo before releasing them to a delighted public), and of course The Master of the Queen's Bad Music, Sir Paul Inwood C.H. C.H.

Rehearsing a new hymn "Lord, aren't we jolly super, pip-pip".

Damian Thompson's views have obviously been formed by too much listening to classical music (he mentions Haydn, Parry and Vaughan Williams, which are names totally unknown to me and my fellow bad composers). Damian doesn't appreciate that the youth of today want religious services in which the music is produced by guitars - electric, of course - the hymns are all about what a wonderful time we're having, and there is the opportunity to do the kiss and cuddle of peace after a spell of liturgical dancing and a sermon about how God likes football.

Get lost, Damo!
Yours in The Light of the Lord,
Doris Muzak (Ms)

Damian Thompson and Paul Inwood do a "gig" together.

SIR,

I'm puzzled that an eminent Catholic historian, Tim Stanley, doesn't seem to understand the role of historical drama. In his review of Downton Abbey, he complains about the historical accuracy of some of the scenes. For example, he thought that the episode where an army of Daleks broke in and exterminated Lady Mary was unrealistic, as there are no recorded accounts of Dalek-extermination among the upper classes in the 1920s. He has obviously forgotten the 1922 Dalek Invasion of Hull, where the whole town was reduced to a wasteland (not very different from today's Hull), including - and this is the key fact - the Duke of Prescott's ancestral home, "Puddings".

Davros returns as a woman - note the unconvincing rubber mask.

Academic historians - especially Cambridge ones - should be aware that nobody cares about history. If Julian Fellowes chooses to invoke the atmosphere of the 1920s by writing dialogue such as "I wear a fez now. Fezzes are cool!" or "EX-TER-MIN-ATE", then we should accept his Tolstoyan skills for what they are, rather than heckling from the sidelines.

Dr William Misery-Guts.

Tim Stanley comments on the latest episode of Downton Abbey.

SIR,

Your correspondent is critical of ACTA's role in influencing the bishops of England and Wales before the recent Synod, apparently sharing the view of many traditional Catholics that ACTA is a quasi-Masonic organization with aprons, rolled-up trouser legs and funny handshakes. Whether or not it is (and I have promised not to divulge ACTA's secrets on pain of having my heart torn out by giant vultures), I am anxious to make it clear that we do not dance naked at the full moon - well, not all of us - we do not sacrifice babies to the god Pan, and we certainly do not stick pins into wax dummies of Cardinal Burke.

It may help your readers to understand us if I mention that we do not attend church and we do not believe any of the standard Catholic teaching. So in that respect we are exactly the same as any other Tablet-reading Catholic.

Andrew Bowman
Lead author of the ACTA report "The smell of the donkeys".

"You fool, I ordered sheep! How will I get a donkey round my neck?"

SIR,

As a very well-known bishop, I am getting increasingly embarrassed by your page of "Bishops' Engagements". My Dean has remarked to me that, whereas some bishops are able to record "Pilgrimage to Lourdes", "Blessing of the camels at the zoo", "Mass in memory of St Tharg", etc., all that I can find to list is "Watching television", "Going to a football match" and "Pub crawl". It would be best if you could omit this feature altogether.

+Paresseux, Bishop of... well, never mind.

Eccles apologises

Yesterday, I quoted a tweet from Fr James Martin, SJ, which claimed that the Blessed Virgin Mary was a man (I have since learned that the logic behind this tweet might not be as straightforward as I thought - my mistake, I later deleted the tweet). A few days ago I also retweeted an article about Enda Kenny's forthcoming "cannibalism" referendum in Ireland: this did not express my own views, but I thought I would draw attention to it, as a subject for discussion. I was shocked to see that I instantly got online abuse and was told that "my views" would be placed on a blog, so that people could discuss them.

Eccles talks to a lawyer.

Later, I was shocked to see that I had been personally insulted. A friend of mine who has spent a lot of time in court without ever being convicted - he is a solicitor - saw the blog and said, "Father Eccles, you could really cash in here!" It seemed like the appropriate action for a priest in good standing to take, for after all, does the Bible not tell us to "Sue the Lord thy God for all acts of God, and sue thy neighbour if he offend thee"?

Still, I am a poor priest, and not rich enough to sue anyone. Besides, I'm not sure that expressions such as "silly", "toad" and "fish-face" are really actionable. My friend says that "silly fish-faced toad" might be worth a sum in the region of 20p, but I am not so sure.

This is not Eccles.

Worse than that, I found my actions being discussed on the entire blogosphere, as unspeakable people rushed to the defence of the wicked shameless criminal - a self-confessed mother of three. Six people turned up at Mass wearing "We like mothers" tee-shirts, I have been told to "put a sock in it" and I have been accused of being possessed by the spirit of Enda Kenny. Also - horror of horrors - e-mails have been sent to my bishop. And you know how bishops get excited if someone they've never heard of tells them that they have had a Twitter squabble with one of their priests!

My bishop reacts to an e-mail.

Worst of all, a sanctimonious deacon wrote a blog post saying that he didn't agree with me, or anyone else, because he was a much better person than any of us. Still, he would say a prayer, asking that we would all become as virtuous as he was.

Anyway, stuff this for a lark. I apologise to the entire universe for whatever it is I never did.

Kind Regards,
Rev. Eccles.

What colour is this dress?

This week's Internet sensation was caused by arguments over the colour of a rather ugly dress. It seems that different people saw it in different ways, and there was no consensus.

Some say the dress below is purple, which would be the liturgically correct colour for Lent. Others see different colours: white, red, blue, green...

What colour dress is this woman wearing?

The photo is a source of further optical illusions, in that some people see a woman wearing a bishop's mitre, whereas others see a clown in a silly hat. Then is that a cross she is carrying or a pitchfork? Stare at it for 30 seconds and see what you think.

Said one celebrity, Justin Biebly of Canterbury, "Obviously it's a multicoloured dress that the lady is wearing; those are the liturgically correct vestments for All Fools' Day." However, many others see it differently.

The model wearing the dress is Kathy Schori, 60, a professional bishop-o-gram entertainer. She is available for weddings, funerals, and other happy occasions.

Kiss me, Kate! Another controversial dress.

Saint of the Week - St Libby

St Libidina ("Libby") Lane of Stockport was a twenty-first century Anglican saint, known for bringing Christianity to the sexist, misogynist, pagan lands of Stockport.

St Libidina of Stockport.

Such was her piety that St Libby was described by the legendary Archbishop Sentamu (a man of such exalted station that he was outranked only by Archbishop Welby, Queen Elizabeth II and God - and even then, only just) as "following in the footsteps of St Margaret Clitherow."

"Actually, I meant to say Jimmy Clitheroe, but nobody noticed."

St Margaret Clitherow was a Catholic Saint who was martyred in 1586 by being crushed with rocks (this was in the reign of Good Queen Bess, and was part of her policy of "tolerance towards Catholics"). St Libidina, on the other hand, suffered far greater woes, as she saw a succession of useless no-hopers appointed to the job of bishop - this is also a Catholic tradition - while she was sent out to make the tea and do the washing-up. Was she never to wear the coveted hat of a bishop?

St Margaret Clitherow - her martyrdom was considered a "luxury" by Yorkshiremen.

Of course traditions in the two churches do differ. The Catholics are forced to follow in the sexist footsteps of Jesus Christ, a man who never said anything significant about equality and diversity, women's issues, or the right to wear Babylonian fish hats. The Anglicans, on the other hand, take their lead from Henry VIII, a man who married six times and fully knew how to give a girl a good time (at least for a while).

The latest in bishop's mitres.

The day of St Libidina's fast-track consecration/ ordination/ promotion/ redeployment to an executive role in Anglico was itself full of drama. As the Archbishop read out the traditional words "Does any sexist mail chauvinist pig know any just cause or impediment why this girl may not be given a key to the bishops' washroom?" there came a cry of "Put a sock in it, Sentamu!" Nonetheless, a miracle occurred, and Archbishop Sentamu managed to achieve something that Christ Himself would never have dared to do. Yes, St Libidina had made it to the Board of Directors!

Graduality, or how to be saved the easy way

Thanks to the Synod on the Family, the idea of graduality, also known as gradualism, has come back into fashion. The basic idea here is that we are none of us perfect, but hey, we don't need to be, at least not yet!

Beginners should start by trying to obey just one commandment.

Find the Ten Commandments a bit of a challenge? Well, pick one of the easiest to obey, and start with that. This is what I have decided to do, and so now I give you the ECCLES PLEDGE: I promise not to commit murder. Or at least, not very often. This leaves me with more time free for other sins, such as coveting my neighbour's donkey, stealing, or bowing down to graven images.

Eccles's Anti Moly is very pleased that Eccles has pledged not to murder her.

Of course, for some people, even giving up murder is too ambitious. As Cardinal Kasper says, we should show compassion even towards those who have chosen a serial-killing lifestyle. If - like so many of my readers - you are a serial killer, then may I respectfully suggest that you start by cutting down a little? Say one murder a month? I believe that you can buy little sticky patches to put on your arm, which give you all the stimulation of serial killing, without actually having to go out and commit the sin of murder.

Likewise, if you are given to adulterous affairs, bishop, then the gradualist approach is to progressively reduce the number of marriages you break up, until you are down to one at a time, or even none!

St Augustine of Hippo: "Grant me chastity and continence, but not yet!"

Now, how does this work for people who are divorced and remarried? Will they gradually be admitted to communion? Well, the first time they approach the altar steps they will be condemned by the priest in thunderous tones: "BEGONE! ADULTEROUS VERMIN!" Then the next time, the priest will say "Oooh, you are awful, but I like you!" but still refuse them communion. Until eventually the priest will say "Well, what's the odd sinful lifestyle between friends? Probably, Jesus was only joking! Come and join in the fun!" Thus our separated brethren are ACCEPTED once more.

Or they could give up their second marriage bit by bit. They might start by sleeping in the garden shed, to avoid the temptations of the flesh. Eventually they could return to their previous spouse: this could be awkward if he or she has remarried, but, hey, it is better to have three in a bed than only two, if it's the wrong two.

Thou hast had seven husbands... even if they are on the small side.

Well, I hope you have found this little guide to gradualism helpful. Next week, we explain how a compulsive bower down to graven images can gradually repent, so that soon they simply give graven images a polite nod when they pass them in the street. Thus, according to my brother Bosco, they will have done almost all that needs to be done to assure Salvation.

Even cardinals can be saved.

Olé smoke!

Several priests have written to me, saying, "Eccles, how can I make a spectacle of myself in church, like José Planas Moreno, the flamenco-dancing priest, and thus bring the congregations flocking back to Mass? So far I have made the mistake of emphasising controversial notions such as God and Jesus, and it simply isn't getting the punters in."

The Credo, a key part of the Mass.

Well, Father F (or Z, or R, or whoever you are), there are various ways in which priests can focus the attention of the congregation onto themselves, and away from the Almighty (who, after all, gets quite a lot of attention already). For example, in 1937, Harold Davidson, the former Rector of Stiffkey, displayed himself in a cage with a lion called Freddie, which eventually killed him. So, dear Father P (or B), we don't recommend this strategy. Similarly, liturgical bullfighting, even in the Malaga area, is still at an experimental stage, and is not yet a standard part of modern worship.

Warning: lions are like bishops - they bite!

No, the future definitely lies in dancing. It started with liturgical can-cans, and continued with Kate Bottley, the dancing vicar, now hotly tipped to be the first female bishop in the church of England. Dancing has now been taken up by those Catholic priests who find the general idea of worshipping God a little too dull.

Sursum Genua (Let's have a knees-up!)

Let's conclude with another picture of the man they call Fr Pepe: note the quiet dignity which which he explains the hermeneutic of continuity in the context of Pope Benedict's 2005 speech to the Roman Curia, firmly rejecting the hermeneutic of discontinuity and rupture that has upset so many orthodox Catholics.

Take your partners for the Agnus Dei!

We are not sure who the lady in yellow biting her nails is: probably just an altar server modelling the latest in hot-weather vestments.