How to resign as head of your church

Mostly on this blog we content ourselves with giving advice on "How to be a good pope" - and you can see the results! However, the Catholic Church can learn something from the Anglicans (apart from useful advice on how to take over other people's church property, how to mess around with the Bible, and how to ordain lesbians). So let's see what we can learn from the dignified resignation of Justin Welby, sometimes called the Archbishop of Canterbury.

"I confess that one of us has sinned. Not me, of course."

It could not happen in the Catholic Church, but suppose you, as head of your church/ ecclesial community/ cult/ coven were revealed to have have protected people guilty of sex crimes. One day the outcry will be too great, and you won't have popesplainers imamsplainers primatesplainers to protect you. So you stand up and make a speech.

Here are some useful tips on how to do this. They can also be useful if you go into the confessional.

* Tell weak jokes. This is always a good move. "I say, I say, I say, Father. I've just killed my parents. Go gently with me, as I am an orphan."

Pause for laughter. Not a sausage. Oh well, carry on.

* Don't take any blame. "I regret, Father, than some grievous sins have been committed by members of the church to which I belong." Don't add "It was me, in fact."

* Another tasteless joke. "They say that heads must roll. Let me tell you a joke about the archbishop whose head was used as a football. You'll laugh, I know you will!"

* Finally, make yourself out to be a martyr. "It was inevitable that someone should suffer for these sins, and it had to be me. Now all I have left is a fat pension and a book deal for my memoirs."

The bishopess of London cannot stop giggling.

The sin against synodality

Most readers are aware of the seven deadly sins - pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth - and some readers may even have committed some of them. Mea culpa - I am particularly guily of sloth, and have even tried to encourage others to commit that sin (if they can be bothered!)

A typical "sloth pride" march - nobody turned up.

But now Pope Francis has come up with a list of new sins, and the synodal participants will request forgiveness "in the name of all the baptized" for a rather confused list of things he doesn't like.

The most important of these sins is of course the "sin against synodality". So I went to my priest and made the following confession.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I have not practised kenotic decentering, nor have I enlarged the space of my tent.

Pope Francis and Cardinal Cupich enlarge the space of their tent.

Worse, I do not breathe synodality into every component of academic theology, and I do not embrace the principle of circularity that animates the whole synodal process."

My priest interrupted. "Which aspect of 'PLACE' do you think is most important in shaping relationships within the Church? Are you an athlete and standard-bearer of synodality?"

I blushed, and continued:

"Er, synodality is essentially missionary, and, vice-versa, mission is always synodal. So I try to respect the protagonism of the Spirit as a new way of being Church."

But he was not fooled. The penance he gave me was a real killer: "GO AWAY AND SPEND THREE WEEKS SITTING AT A ROUND TABLE WITH AUSTEN IVEREIGH."

Mea culpa! Mea maxima culpa!

Hieronymus Bosch's depiction of souls in torment.

A successful week for Pope Francis

As Pope Francis keeps telling us, he is an old man, and starting to slow down. He hasn't slapped a pilgrim for several weeks, nor personally insulted a cardinal for a month or two. So it is with great pleasure that we can list some of the achievements of his recent trip to Canada.

Confined to a wheelchair but still in control!

1. Idolatory. Pachamama is so 2019, and a go-ahead pope who wants to troll the Catholic Church has got to find a new object of pagan worship. So we are delighted to welcome the Western grandmother, invoked in a "smudging ritual", in which noxious smoke is wafted round the room. Whether she will catch on with Francis-Catholics (now mainly Ivereigh, Lamb, Faggioli and Spadaro) is unclear, but here's Granny!

2. Fake confessions. Who are we to judge, but it may be thought that most Catholics - even the pope - have enough sins of their own to confess without confessing other people's. But no, in a brilliant innovation, Pope Francis has apologised to the Canadians, expressing deep shame and sorrow for various abuses that may or may not have taken place. Well, it certainly stopped anyone from asking embarrassing questions about Gussie Zanchetta!

"Don't worry, Gus, some future pope can apologise for us!"

3. A ritual kick at traditional Catholics. They just won't go away, will they, Francis? That TRADGON deodorant that Arthur Roche bought you doesn't seem to be working. A few bishops share your vindictive attitude to people who are used to the older forms of worship, but most are still ignoring you and hoping that the men in white coats will soon cart you off to the loony bin. Meanwhile, however, carry on insulting! Today's new one is BACKWARDIST. A good one, eh? When your popemobile is rushing down the hill towards a chasm, it's the backwardist who tries to stop it. Austen Ivereigh thinks it's brilliant!

4. Evolution of doctrine. As Pope Francis keeps stressing, doctrine evolves. What was a sin in the 1960s (or even the 1st century) may no longer be a sin! Conversely, there are new sins, such as advertising a Latin Mass in your parish bulletin, which earlier popes would have thought hilarious. Watch out, Humanae Vitae, we're gunning for you!

A nasty rigid backwardist pope! Which idiot canonized him? Oh...

Why Eccles will tell no more jokes

Eccles's new law states that it is impossible to tell any joke without someone being offended.

Take for example the Tommy Cooper joke: "I bought some pork chops and told the butcher to make them lean. He said, 'Which way?'"

With this joke the late Mr Cooper (99 today) has managed to offend Jews and Muslims (mentioning pork), fat people (mentioning "lean") and people with one leg shorter than the other (the other meaning of "lean"). So watch out for Mohammed Ben Fatwa, the overweight Muslim with a limp!

One man's comedy is another man's tragedy.

The same law has applied to me recently, and here are three examples.

Case 1. Someone on Twitter asks what she should do during the present crisis, if it is impossible to get to Confession.

Witty Eccles reply: Stop sinning.

Audience reaction: Let's be more charitable here, please. Accusing S. of being unable to stop sinning is the height of rudeness.

Well, that went down well!

Case 2. We have the usual St Patrick's Day dispute about whether St Patrick was English, Scottish, Welsh, or something else. Someone says that he was Scottish.

Witty Eccles reply: You're thinking of St Andrew.

Audience reaction: (patiently). No, no, he's the Patron Saint of Scotland. If he was Scottish, his brother Peter would also have been Scottish.

St Andrew relaxes after a hard day's apostling.

Case 3. An American priest (who claims to have a sense of "humor", whatever that may be) tells us that he tried to give up chocolates for Lent, and failed.

Witty Eccles reply. "This is the face of true evil."

Audience reaction (and this, if anything, proves that British irony doesn't travel well): I hope you didn’t give up "calling priests evil" or "exaggerating" or "joking not joking" or what New Yorkers called "joking on a square" for Lent.

Pope Francis will not eat his choco-Luther until Lent is over.

O.K. from now on I will stop telling jokes. Here instead is a purely factual piece of spiritual nourishment.

New Catholic helpline.
Worried about / whom to consult.

Climate change - Pope Francis.
Coronavirus - Cardinal Nichols.
Sexual problems - Cardinal Marx.
Sin, redemption, etc. - Er, position still vacant.

To which someone added: Liturgical Dancing / Cardinal Tagle. See? People are starting to appreciate my serious comments.

Pope Francis II?

Tim Kaine goes to Confession

This probably breaks several of the rules about the secrecy of the confessional, but we must take the risk. The penitent may have been a different senator, with a different priest, but the story is the same.

Senator Tim Kaine: Father, bless me blah blah blah, I can't be expected to remember the right form of words, can I? I'm a busy man.

Bishop Knestout of Richmond, VA (for it is he): Of course not, your importantship. Still, it's good to see you, and I am honoured to receive your confession in person, especially as I know you are incapable of sin.

When the Confession doesn't have any really meaty bits.

Tim: Yes, I wouldn't have come to Confession unless I knew that someone of the rank of bishop would be available.

Knestout: Now, how can I help you?

Tim: Well it's hard for me to think of any really interesting sins. I did make a rude noise during the State of the Union address. Also, I knocked over an old blind lady who was blocking my way this morning, but that's perfectly normal, isn't it?

Knestout: Totally normal, your wonderfulness.

Tim: Oh, and I chewed gum and spat it out during Mass.

Knestout: You're not being totally honest here, are you?

Tim: True. That was 3 years ago, and I confess it every time. I've not actually been to Mass recently.

Knestout: It seems to me that you're a typical modern Catholic. Keen on same-sex marriage and abortion, I see. Nothing else?

Tim Kaine with an unidentified friend.

Tim: Um, well suppose, hypothetically, that I voted against the Pain-Capable Unborn Child Protection Act, admitting that I saw no problem at all with the idea that children should be tortured, dismembered, and ripped screaming from the womb, with their corpses thrown into a bin marked "biological waste"?

Knestout: Well, technically, you'd be excommunicated and I should announce it publicly. Meanwhile, you would need to do a penance which involved wearing a sign saying "I'M A SCUMBAG" round your neck for the rest of your life. Still...

Tim: Still?

Knestout: Look, I won't mention it, if you don't. I absolve you from your sins blah blah blah (now you've got me doing it!)

Tim: Thanks, padre. EXIT.

Amoris Laetitia - what you missed

9451. Traditionally, the ideal family consists of a man, a woman, 2.4 children, a dog, a cat, and a hamster. In that case, we should take a moment to consider the suffering endured by the odd 0.4 of a child - why is he taunted by cries of "He's not all there, you know!"?

There are many ways that a married couple can show their love for each other. For example, a morning kiss may be appropriate. For those who find this too difficult, they may wish to share in the household chores, such as power-hosing the television, throwing the cat out of the window, or bathing the hamster.

Fr J. Hackett S.J. explains that loving relationships can be very varied.

Of course other models of family life are possible. In the parable of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Our Lord tells the tale of what some might call a "dysfunctional" family, with one woman and seven small men. It is important that Catholics treat such non-standard families with love and mercy^TM, and do not, for example, send them poisoned apples.

9452. Now is a good time for me to insert a dig at Father Thomas Rosica, who has been a complete pain in recent months.

Only joking, Tom!

9453. The good news for all of us is that, as the Gospel explains, everyone shall be saved. Good and Evil are a matter of personal choice, or "conscience"; that is why it would be inappropriate for this Apostolic Exhortation to mention sin, damnation, Hell, gnashing of teeth, or anything else that is not warm, cuddly and merciful^TM.

This is what Catholicism is really about.

9454. Now I know that many of you want answers to the following questions:

1. Is the Pope still a Catholic?
2. Should divorced and remarried couples be allowed to take communion?
3. Do we still burn heretics?

Confession should no longer involve torture.

Well, I am unwilling to give clear answers to these questions, so I suggest you read this document slowly and carefully - which is ironic as it was dashed off in a coffee break, and not properly checked - and maybe you will find some answers. I certainly couldn't.

9455. There will be another Synod next year, where we wheel out all the usual suspects to tell us what my Amoris Laetitia actually means. See you there!

Archbishop suddenly discovers sin

It's not been a good weekend for the Archbishop of Canterbury. Not only has his video nasty "The Lord's Prayer" been banned in cinemas, as already recorded, but he has suddenly been introduced to the notion of sin.

Specifically, he said that the recent terrorist murders in Paris led him to ask God where He was.

The three wise primates - see no evil, etc.

It is unusual for a man to reach the rank of archbishop without knowing that there is an inexhaustible well of evil in the world, but it can happen. As His Grace explains, "In the oil industry, where I began my career, there were very few acts of violence, unless you count the great Esso-Shell-Texaco gang warfare of the 1980s. The Church of England, where I am now, is full of people who believe themselves to be totally without sin, and they're probably right. Admittedly, we have this thing called 'General Confession', but it's so vague as to be meaningless. 'Erred and strayed from thy ways like lost sheep'? Doesn't sound too bad, does it?"

More tea, Justin? Eccles educates an archbishop.

We pointed out to Archbishop Welby that people had been murdering each other ever since the days of Cain and Abel, not to mention the great massacres of the Reformation, and a few (alleged) sinners in the 20th century such as Hitler, Stalin and Mao. "Oh, they must have slipped my mind," he admitted.

We then pointed out that one of the reasons that Jesus came into the world, apart from amusing Himself by turning water into wine and making large quantities of fish sandwiches, was to bear the sins of the world. This struck the archbishop as a brilliantly original theory: "You mean that my whole job is based on the fact that there is evil in the world?" he asked. "Well, well, I never thought of that one. You've really taught me a thing or two, Eccles!"

The Archbishop was startled when we told him that Christians were being martyred in the Middle East.

We planned to conclude our little chat with a prayer together, namely, "Our Father", which also mentions sins, but, out of consideration for the feelings of the National Secular Society, we decided not to do anything so controversial.

Flirting with the SSPX

QUAERITUR: Dear Father Eccles, Pope Francis has said that during the Year of Mercy, Catholics may make their confession to SSPX priests and be validly absolved. What's all that about then?

Offer does not apply to Anglicans, Muslims, Hindus, etc.

Fr. E. replies: The SSPX chaps are basically Catholics who reject some of the decisions of Vatican II - the prohibition of Latin, the introduction of clown masses, the compulsory installation of piles of copies of the Tablet at the back of the church, the recognition of Paul Inwood as a "composer", etc. Going to confession with an SSPX priest is very similar to what you might expect from a "normal" Catholic, apart from a few small differences:

1. You must make your confession in Latin.
2. The priest will have his back to you.
3. The SSPX considers certain actions such as singing "Walk in the 
Light" (even in the privacy of your own bath) to be sins, although 
they may not be recognised as such by "ordinary" Catholics.

Q: Well, actually the sin I committed was pretty minor, really. I got drunk, wandered into the church, blew out all the votive candles, and sang "Happy Birthday to Me!"

You must blow them out with one big breath.

Fr E: Yes, that would be considered a sin in most Catholic traditions, including the SSPX. Perhaps not in a very liberal church; indeed, that might even be a praiseworthy act, as it lowers the church's carbon footprint (see Laudato Si', pages 3, 7, 13 to 45 inclusive, 61, and 88 to 105).

Q: Apparently, the Church is also giving its support to the naming of a square in Rome after Martin Luther, who was excommunicated 500 years ago. Can I be absolved by Lutherans?

Fr E: This is a grey area. I gather that Pope Francis is in a mood of forgiveness at present, and we can soon expect to see a Judas Iscariot Street, a Pontius Pilate Avenue, and even a Richard Dawkins Circus. We live in interesting times.

Richard Dawkins prepares to forgive some sins.

Eccles hears some confessions

During my time in Rome, participating in the very Extraordinary Synod on the Family, I went into St Peter's Basilica, and sat down for a nap in a confessional - as one does. This turned out to be a bad move, as I dreamed that various people came and confessed their sins to me, mistaking me for a priest (perhaps the red biretta had something to do with it).

Not a good place to take a nap.

Clearly, I cannot reveal who took part in my Confessional dream, and indeed I will try not to give any clues away.

"Father, my Relatio post disceptationem was intended as a bit of light relief after a hard week's listening to oddballs, but people are taking it seriously. There are even lunatics such as that comedy Jesuit who works for the National Catholic Reporter - what's his name, Rees-Mogg? - saying that my little updates to Christ's teaching were the work of the Holy Spirit, almost as if there were some great battle going on between two Persons of the Trinity. I thought my little Relatio wouldn't fool anyone, but even the traddies think I'm serious. Some are calling me Erdő the Weirdo..."

"... and I've got this hilarious idea called 'gradualism'."

"Father, I've been told I need to go to Confession, but we scrapped that sort of thing when I was running Arundel and Brighton. Still, if you want me to confess something, I daresay I can think of something. Er, I was Jack the Ripper all along, also I shot President Kennedy, kidnapped Shergar, and persuaded Nick Clegg to go into politics. Also I am secretly a member of ISIS, a freemason, and a Guardian-reader. Oh, and I killed Edwin Drood. What do you mean, I'm making up confessions again? Well, it's not as if I had any real sins to confess, is it?"

"Also I impersonated Ed West."

"Father, I admit it. I suppressed the Protect the Pope blog, and pretended that I hadn't. Deacon Donnelly was starting to discover where the bodies were buried, and people were leaning on me to stop him before he got too close. Tina Beattie said she was being mocked: her students were playing 'Heresy Bingo' when she lectured, and throwing paper darts at each other behind her back. The burden of my sins is intolerable, and all I have been able to do since then is to wander round the diocese having my photo taken eating and drinking. Also, I copied Eccles's idea of writing a humorous religious blog, and now people can't tell us apart. There will be no further statement on this matter."

An Eccles look-alike.

"Father, it's a fair cop. When we made Conry a bishop, I had a pretty good idea what he got up to in his spare time. In fact I saw his little black book of telephone numbers - well, a big black book, really! Still, Kieran was one of the 'lads' and it seemed only fair to do him a small favour by giving him a job. Also, I tried to get Damian Thompson sacked from the Telegraph because of his perpetual sneering at me. But that's not a sin, is it?"

The queue for confession never ends.

"Hello, Father, you know who I am, the world's most famous atheist theologian and retired biologist. Of course it isn't logical to talk about Good, Evil, Sin, Confession, Forgiveness and Redemption, ha ha. But I have got myself into a small dilemma. Christianity - and the Catholic Church in particular - seems to be flourishing now, even though I spend 16 hours a day condemning it on Twitter with all the most powerful materialistic arguments at my disposal. So I turned to condemning Islam instead, and look what happened! Half of New College, Oxford has joined ISIS, after hearing me sound off about Islam on High Table, and even my wife Lalla seems to have filled her wardrobe with niqabs, hijabs, burkas, and so on; also, she keeps surfing the web looking for holidays in Syria. What am I doing wrong?"

"Was it something I said?"

QUAERITUR: Should I wake the priest?

Dear Father E, when I make Confession I often find that the priest starts yawning. Sometimes, he even asks me to repeat some of my sins - the enumeration of them, that is - on the grounds that he "dropped off for a moment". I am terrified that one day he will fall into a deep sleep. If this happens, what should I do?

... and I've put more details on my blog, Father.

Father E replies: Sleep is a gift from God, and, given that you sometimes doze off during the priest's homily, it is only natural that he in turn should grab a much-needed forty winks while you are telling him how you spent the week. I have seen your written account of the incident in question, and I am not sure that it was necessary to give the full details of how A insulted you on Twitter so that you screen-capped her words, and then B got involved and wrote a nasty post on his own tedious blog, and then C joined in and started stalking you, and then, ... zzzzz... sorry, where was I?

Do you get excommunicated if you nudge a pope?

Now, if your confessor falls asleep, there are several things you might do:

1. Stop talking, and wait patiently until he wakes up again. Of course, this might not be for eight hours or so...
2. Tiptoe out quietly, so as not to wake him. However, experts would say that you had not fully completed your confession.
3. Cough loudly, bang on the confessional, shout "WAKE UP, FATHER!" Probably best, but a little discourteous.

The sins of a parrot are not usually very interesting.

Frankly, the best way to avoid such a situation is to invent some interesting sins, as recommended by certain bishops. You could, for example, walk in covered with blood and pretend that you have just murdered your grandmother. Then, having got the priest's attention, you say, "It's all right. Only joking. It was only the deacon." This is probably more interesting than seeking absolution for the sin of wearing liturgically-incorrect socks at the Church Fayre. The priest may even stay awake.

Not the best place to make your confession.

A sin-based approach to weather-forecasting

Following Councillor David Silvester's comments that recent storms and floods were caused by David Cameron's same-sex "marriage" legislation, and the Rev. Drayton Parslow's consequent explanation of many of the events seen in the last few thousand years, we have enlisted the aid of leading moral theologians and meteorologists to present a sin-based approach to weather forecasting. Simply see what sins you have committed recently, and we can tell you what tomorrow's weather will be like - more accurately than the Met Office.

Alice, affected by flooding. Was sex to blame?

LUST. Lust is normally associated with extreme wet weather, leading to floods in some areas. Remember the book of Genesis, and what happened to the cities of the flood plain? That.

GLUTTONY. Put that pie down for a minute and I'll tell you what to expect. Probably a foggy day tomorrow, where you'll be wandering round aimlessly in circles.

AVARICE. Well you may have been saving for a rainy day, but, tough luck, you're more likely to get hail, with snow on high ground.

SLOTH. Expect one of those days that are cloudy and dull, without even a trace of a breeze. Since you're probably in bed anyway, you won't even notice, will you?

ANGER. Shocking weather, with disruption on the rails, flights cancelled, long traffic jams, and road rage. Apparently it's the wrong kind of sunshine, so don't get cross. I said, don't get cross.

Sunshine! Doesn't it make you want to beat someone up?

ENVY. Expect lousy cold weather, with scattered showers and sunny intervals. It's much nicer on the Costa Blanca, I assure you. Some people have all the luck, don't they?

PRIDE. You have got wonderful weather, but that's because where you are it's the height of summer. But remember, this always comes before a Fall.

Forgive me father, it's cloudy today.

This guide can of course be used in the converse sense: if you go to Confession and it's foggy, that may mean that you overdid on the pies last night. Be warned.

The Pilgrim's Ogress 5: The Spy who Saved Me

Continued from Part 4.

Ian Fleming takes up the tale.

"Get 007 over here at once," said F to his secretary, Cardinal Munnipenni. "He's the only person who can deal with this crisis. Tell him to leave his aunt behind - I will brief him on his own."

A few days later, Eccles arrived in Rome, having been flown in from a secret mission somewhere in South London. Ignoring flirtatious glances from Munnipenni (they still had a few such problems in the Curia) he went straight into F's office. "The name's Eccles, Brother Eccles," he exclaimed.

Pope Francis (sitting) briefs Eccles.

"Bless you, 007," said F. "I'm afraid we're out of dry Martini - he died last year."

"So I heard," replied "Eccles. I was shaken but not stirred by what he had to say."

"Now, we're sending you back to England on a special mission. According to the Protect Me blog, there have been a number of disturbing incidents in your country. A sinister organization called ACTA is determined to destabilize the Catholic Church, and we'll need you to go undercover and infiltrate it."

Tipped to be the next "Bond girl".

"What will it involve, sir?" asked Eccles. "Any good-looking girls that I can collaborate with?"

"Probably not this time, Eccles," said his boss. "Most of the members seem to be over 70 years old. Now, to join ACTA you will need to sign its mission statement, all about how you are inspired by the Second Vatican Council, but - and this is the important thing - there is a mysterious supplementary paragraph to sign up to, as well. This is top secret, and we don't know what it contains. We want you to get hold of a copy of it - it could be dynamite!"

"How do I make contact with ACTA?" asked 007.

"We have sent three other agents already, but they've all disappeared mysteriously. Probably they were spotted as being our people, because they didn't know the passwords or the funny handshakes; or maybe they rolled up the wrong trouser-leg. You'll need to be careful, Eccles."

"Anything else you can tell me, sir?"

"Yes, there have been one or two other mysterious incidents, recently. We don't know if they are related. For example, a priest who was supposed to interpret Catholic teaching in sign language turned out to be producing total gibberish."

Warning: total gibberish.

"Ah yes, I heard about him, poor fellow. Was there anything else?"

"It's a long shot, but at Saatchi and Saatchi in London they have put a blasphemous representation of Mary and Joseph on display. We don't know whether there's a link to ACTA."

Not Joseph and Mary.

"I'll get back to England straight away," promised 007.

"Before you go, drop in on C. He'll issue you with some equipment for your mission."

"C" with Zuhlsdorf^TM "Mors Vobiscum" liturgical beretta.

007 said his goodbyes to F, and went to see the man they called "C" or "Cormac".

"Now, Eccles, listen carefully," said C. "You'll be going in disguised as a priest. What I am giving you looks like a mobile confessional, but it is programmed to recognise voice patterns. Once someone says the words 'Miser Peccator', the confessional is flooded with an evil gas, sending the sinner to sleep."

The booby-trapped Portofess.

Thanking C for his gift, although wondering how he would ever persuade ACTA members to admit that they might have sinned, Eccles made his way back to England and rejoined his aunt.

To be continued by another writer.