The Diakonia of Beauty

Continuing our exploration of the Cannes Festival we came to an event of spiritual nourishment.

The sacred festival of beauty. The "off" of the soul (!?)

This event is organized by the local diocese in conjunction with La Diaconie de la Beauté. At first I thought this was something to do with deacons, who are often beautiful creatures with beautiful minds, but in fact a Diaconie is better translated as Diakonia, which is concerned with the poor and needy.

Now, who are the poor and needy in this context? Well, as far as I could ascertain, they are actors. The sort of poor and needy actors you see at the Cannes Festival.

Brother Bosco blends inconspicuously with the beautiful people.

Indeed, one of the events (next Thursday if you can make it) features Michael Lonsdale, a.k.a. Sir Hugo Drax, the villain of the James Bond film Moonraker. Not poor, not needy, not even a poor actor.

Possibly not a saved person.

Another event that the church is organizing is a Concert inter-religieux "Les Trois Religions". Apparently the three religions - which seem to be regarded by some as interchangeable, equivalent, and all as good as each other - are Christianity (yay!), Islam (hiss!) and Judaism (somewhere in between on the Eccles "how saved is you?" scale). I guess that if a passing fakir had walked in and wanted to lie down on his bed of nails, he would also have been welcome.

Gratuitous cat-picture from Cannes to make the blog more popular.

We did drop in to one event of this festival; it was a concert called De Marie-Magdeleine à François et Claire d'Assise, which might reasonably be expected to have some religious content. However the bit we heard consisted of rock music and a man singing (if I understood it correctly) about Earth and Water. I guess the pagan wing of the Church would have appreciated it.

The angel of the diakonia.

Now, when we landed in Nice, I tried to emulate the great Father Z. and take a picture of the aeroplane seat in front of me - that sort of thing always makes a blog popular. However, by mistake, I was facing ad aquilonem rather than ad orientem, and so I took a liturgically-incorrect photo out of the window. Mea culpa.

Cannes, as seen from my plane.

Downfall

We have arrived in Cannes for the start of the Film Festival: last night we saw a very exciting new film called Downfall, which we strongly recommend.

Right, we've imposed a voluntary gag on the deacon. No more "Protect the Pope"!

Mein Bischof... the deacon's wife is still blogging!

Himmel! She knows where the bodies are buried.

She must be stopped! And the deacon must continue his voluntary silence!

Don't worry, the bishop won't try and interfere with ACTA.

Why doesn't anyone read my blog? There's no moral guidance in it whatsoever!

More from Cannes soon, including something religious, possibly...

The Deacon's blog

Hi, I'm Deacon Candide of the Diocese of Lancaster, and I run the very popular "Jesus loves fluffy kittens!" blog.

Jesus loves fluffy kittens!

My blog is a nice blog, and could offend nobody. You certainly won't find me being ordered to take a voluntary period of prayer and reflection! Nobody is going to tell me that my blog isn't suppressed but I need to bury it in concrete fifty feet underground!

No, no, no! These are not the stories anyone should be covering!

Of course, it isn't only fluffy kittens that I write about in my hard-hitting blog about the state of the Church today. I sometimes write controversial posts about bunny rabbits.

The lettuce community was offended by this picture.

Today's Gospel was fun, wasn't it? All about the walk to Emmaus. We should take from it the message that walking is good for you, nice healthy exercise, and a good way to get fresh air. And if you meet someone on the way, why not be nice and offer them a high-fibre low-carbon Fairtrade vegan sandwich? That's the true message of Easter!

Four young ACTA members study my controversial article about kittens.

Nihil obstat.

How to address the clergy

If you are reading this blog, you probably encounter clergy on a regular basis - whether Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox, or something else - and indeed you may even be a person of the cloth. However, you may not be precisely sure how to address them, and how to treat them.

A deacon or "Reverend Mister". Often he has a second job, e.g., burglar.

Deacons are customarily accorded the "Reverend" title, which means that they should be revered, or held in reverence. When two deacons meet, they say things like "Oh how I revere you!" or "No, I revere you more than you revere me!" Of course being a deacon doesn't make you immune to hypocrisy (you have to be a bishop to achieve that level of purity): I once knew one who had enough planks in his eyes to make an entire shed.

Murder at the vicarage! All in a day's work for a priest!

So we come onto the priesthood, where again "reverence" is the appropriate reaction. Priests come across many sins in their daily round, of which murder is perhaps the most common. The priest above was an Anglican, but the same applies to Catholic priests, of course. Some (particularly the Catholic priests) are addressed as "Father". Not "Dad", not "Pop", just "Father".

Fr Brown. (The raised umbrella on a dry day is a liturgical error.)

After that it gets complicated. There are lots of clergy with titles such as Canon Street, Metropolitan Line, Marble Archdeacon, etc. but I think we'll move straight on to Monsignor.

Mgr Ronald Knox. What is it about the clergy and crime?

These chaps used to be regarded as Very Reverend, or in some circumstances Right Reverend, but have now been downgraded to "Reverend". Since future Monsignors will have to be at least 105 years of age, it won't matter how you address them as they won't be able to hear you anyway.

Bishops, then...

You address a bishop as "My Lord", although they are also "Right Reverend". This shows that they are the bosses, are always right, and should obeyed under all circumstances. In return for your squirming in their presence, they undertake always to be loyal to the Pope, the Queen, the Magnificent Archdruid of the Luminous Feet, or whatever the big cheese in their church is called.

Four young members of the dissident group ACTA, turned away by a faithful bishop.

Archbishops are a bit more senior. I was told "Say 'Your Grace', Eccles, when you meet Archbishop Nichols," but the poor man looked disconcerted when I began "For what we are about to receive..." So this one is a mystery to me.

Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor ("His Eminence").

Cardinals are "His Eminence" or "Your Eminence". This is a bit of a come-down, really, as being "eminent" is less impressive than being "reverend", surely. It's not much better than just being a celebrity, like Eminem. Still, these are the princes of the Church, so should be regarded as eminent in the same way, as, say, Prince Harry.

A Pope, with birds of pray.

Popes are very busy men, asked to give many off-the-cuff newspaper interviews in addition to their ecclesiastical responsibilities. If you meet a pope - perhaps performing papal duties at your local bird sanctuary - call him "Your Holiness". This is to emphasise that he's not merely eminent, like a cardinal, but is in many ways a saved person. If he then says "Bless you!" it would be discourteous to point out that you didn't sneeze.

Et in terra pax

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

Professor D, who wishes to remain anonymous.

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

Spot the difference!

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

It's never too late to make amends.

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

Were sinister plots hatched in this shed?

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

"In Cappella Calvariæ nulla salus."

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

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

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

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

Eccles and his sockpuppets

Brilliant detective work has at least revealed that Brother Eccles is a master of sockpuppetry. In addition to running 500 Twitter accounts - his ambition is to run the whole of Twitter single-handed - he also manages to write 200 different blogs on (mostly) religious subjects.

A Vatican-approved guide to puppetry.

Here are examples of some of the blogs that Eccles maintains. You will notice that they all have exactly the same style.

The Eccles Catholic donkey blog.

Today I took Vincent, the most troublesome of my 24 donkeys, on a walk to the Bar Moli in Finestrat, where we shared a bottle of gin to celebrate the feast of St Jude. Unfortunately, he was unable to walk home again, so I had to carry him back. Then when we got home, he logged onto Twitter and started insulting random people. I should never have given him his own computer.

The Eccles paranoid Chaplain blog.

What people don't realise is that deacons are priests. So priests should stop feeling superior to us. You wouldn't let me into your Superior Clergy Club, would you? Even though I made myself a biretta. What's more I don't want to hear anything from mothers who stay at home with babies. I'm a mother too, you know. Well, a father. And I stay at home all weekend. Except when I go out. I hate you all, especially the puppetmaster Eccles.

St Joan Blogger.

Hello, everyone, this is Auntie Joan, the writer, biographer, historian, poet, humourist, Olympic cyclist, brain surgeon and Renaissance woman. Auntie has had a very exciting week, as Pope Francis phoned her up to ask if she had any advice to give him on how to write encyclicals. Auntie told him, "Write everything in the third person, as it produces a vibrant prose style." Auntie is taking part in a discussion with Pope Francis on Vatican Radio soon, and she will make every effort to prevent the Holy Father from saying anything embarrassing - that should be easy, because he probably won't be able to get a word in edgeways!

The Eccles "Holy Smoke" blog.

Maria João Pires - found herself playing Mozart's 4th horn concerto.

Take a look at this ancient video that someone sent me. It shows the pianist Maria João Pires in a terrible dilemma. She was expecting to play a Mozart Piano Concerto with the Amsterdam Concertgebouw, but when the orchestra started, she found that they were playing his 4th Horn Concerto. Resourceful to the last, she grabbed a French horn from a member of the orchestra, and gallantly blew her way through the concerto. Said the orchestra member, a Mr Flanders, "I've lost that horn - I know I was using it yesterday. I've lost that horn, lost that horn, found that horn ... gorn."

The same thing happens to me sometimes. I have prepared an in-depth article on custard for the Telegraph, when the editor comes to my desk and says, "Damian! It's Catholicism this week." Being an experienced journalist, I take out my blue pencil, change all the references to custard, add something about the impending murder of the Nuncio, and - voilà! - in 5 minutes I have the piece that I was asked for.

The Protect-the-Eccles Pope blog.

The Tablet ludicrously misreports Bishop Conry's meeting with ACTA to discuss their recommendation of abortion as a human right, in an attempt to ban the Bible in all English dioceses, while Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor's refusal to attend a SHAG week in Rome sends out mixed signals to Enda Kenny, according to the BBC.

Protect-the-Eccles Comment: Phew! This one's too much for me.

The Hermit of Cottingley blog.

The autumn colloquium of the British Province of the Confraternity of Catholic Clergy was very well attended, but some delegates found that it was disruptive to hear cries of "Let me in, I'm a deacon!" outside the window, as we sang Gregorian chants in the bar at night. From now on, the Confraternity has agreed to admit deacons as well, except for ones who are obviously insane.

See? All these well-regarded blogs were really by Eccles, all along.

2 Chronicles

Welcome back, class. I hope you are enjoying the Eccles Bible Project, as we work our way through the Bible, explaining it to beginners. Now today's book of the Bible contains more Jewish history, and duplicates a lot of what we've seen already, so last week I set you all some homework - read 2 Chronicles and write an essay on it.

Gervais! Put your feet down. And where's your essay, boy?

Ah, Dawkins, our star pupil. What's your essay about? Why Solomon wasn't as wise or as rich as what I am. Yes, that's just about on-topic. In 2 Chronicles we do get nine chapters about Solomon, building a temple, running a fleet of chariots bearing the message "THERE'S DEFINITELY A GOD. NOW STOP WORRYING - UNLESS YOU'RE AN ATHEIST," and getting rich from the royalties on his father's psalms. But your essay seems to be mostly about you, and why you should be King too. Could do better, lad.

Not really a useful guide to the 10th century BC.

Now, Fry, I know you once wrote a book called Moab is my washpot, which is a line taken from the psalms. However, when I read it, it seemed to be all about you rather than any of the people we're looking at today. So what is your essay entitled? Rehoboam or Jeroboam - which had the cutest boam? I've got a nasty feeling about this one. Let's move on.

Hari? You have an exclusive interview with King Asa of Judah, in which he tells you that he did that which was good and right in the eyes of the Lord his God? Splendid. We'll read that later.

The chaplin demonstrates a liturgical dance.

Oh yes, Marvin the paranoid deacon. You were sent here on a refresher course, I gather. Do stop spitting at your neighbours. So you've written something for us, explaining how the entire Bible was written by a sockpuppet of Eccles? And you have invented some characters in the style of your favourite newspaper, Viz? That's like the Tablet but a little more Catholic, right? Brilliant idea! Let's see what's on offer.

King Silly Man the not-so-wise. Who is it based on? A boy at school who borrowed your pencil 35 years ago and forgot to give it back? Crumbs, that's biting satire, well done. He'll be seeking counselling, I'm sure.

J. Whosa Fatty, the overweight king of Judah. Ha ha ha, brilliantly witty. Yes, it's true that a certain priest is a little overweight; I'm sure he'll recognise himself there. Yes, I know, isn't it terrible how priests look down on deacons? Well, on some deacons. Well, on you.

Neighbourhood-nurser and Baby Lon. Oh, you're killing me. A woman with a baby, whom you hate intensely because she has got more friends than you? That'll teach her to humiliate you!

Neighbourhood-nurser and Baby Lon (ho ho!)

Well, we'd better stop there. Next time we'll look at the book of Ezra, which may be a bit more spiritually nourishing.

Parodies make me depressed

Today we are luck enough to have a guest post from Marvin the Paranoid Deacon. The Reverend Mr Marvin writes his own blog, with a special password-protected section that his bishop cannot read.

Our guest blogger.

Parody is the last bastion of the bully (with apologies to Dr Johnson). I've heard of Dr Johnson, and his remark about patriotism. So I thought I'd do a clever parody of his epigram and... no, not a parody. Oh dear, can I start again?

Sir! The Tablet is a scurrilous rag, not worthy of the house of a gentleman.

What I was trying to say is that I get very depressed when I see parodies. For example, there's this organization ACTOR that everyone keeps talking about. It seems to be a parody of the Church of England, or at least its liberal tendency. Abortion, same-sex marriage, homosexual priests, defying the Pope... We've seen all this before, and these ACTORs (who are doubtless all true and faithful Catholics) are simply trying to bully the liberal Anglicans by parodying their views.

Six wives? I left the Catholic Church because I really wanted six husbands!

Excuse me while a pour a bucket of water over my head. You'd like to see a deacon in good standing with water streaming off him, wouldn't you? It would make you laugh, wouldn't it? All right then, here goes.

As a deacon, I am expected to be a martyr.

Now, I was looking around for examples of parody, and, apart from Eccles's blog, I found that the worst examples are in the Bible. That's a book that we deacons like to read in the bath. I've got a special waterproof edition, as I keep dropping it into the water.

You may be familiar with a man called Jesus Christ. We deacons get told about him when we go to deacon classes. But Christ could never have been a deacon in good standing, because he kept telling jokes, being satirical and even making parodies.

Consider that poor Pharisee. By all accounts, he was a Pharisee in good standing. Probably he was a spiritual life coordinator, so that he used to fast twice in a week, go on Twitter to insult Catholic women, and give tithes of all that he possessed. Note that A. Pharisee was his real name - Anthony Pharisee, at a guess. He's more likely to be a real person than the publican, who called himself Mr Peccator, an obviously made-up name. But Jesus bullied him unmercifully.

A Pharisee in good standing.

Christ also made stupid jokes about people straining at gnats and swallowing camels. How depressing. I don't often eat gnats, but I see nothing wrong with swallowing camels. Here's one of my favourite recipes.

I'll swallow camels if I want to!

Well, I hope that you will all take my remarks to heart, and continue to be really nasty to anyone who engages in satire or parody. We're not in this world to have fun... well, I'm not... you try being a manically-depressed deacon sometime.

Adopt a Pope!

A saved pusson writes:

My adopted pop. All will be explaned later.

You may remember dat in March, when dey was electin a new pop, we was invited to adopt a cradinal, and by de luck of de draw I got Cradinal Marc Ouellet, wot is a good man but did not become pop. He is de prefect of de congregation for bishops instead. I knows wot prefects does cos I read about it in de grate classics of literature like Moleswort, Billy Butner and Tom Brown's Scholdays.

Cripes! A nuaughty Etonian wot is gonna be dicsiplined by de school prefect.

If de prefect catches de junior bishops bein nuaghty den he has got to discipline em. For example, if a bishop starts doin silly dances durin prep, he can be told to write out I must not be a silly bishop 200 times. Now dey tells me dat Bishop Keiran Corny may be in danger of havin to bend down and take six of de best cos he said silly fings about Islam bein pretty much as good as Christainity.

A mountian dat wuld not go to Mohammed (but proper faith can move mountians).

After adoptin a cradinal, I den tried to adopt a deacon. Well dat's a very sad story, as some poeple just aint got de quallities of kindness needed to be saved like me. Let's move on.

De new initaitive is Adopt a Pop! In de times of de early church, de career path of a pop wot wanted to become a saint was simple:

age 0: born in humble circumstances;
age 12: elected bishop, cos de previous bishop had been martryed;
age 14: become pop;
age 16: die horribly for de faith;
age 500: become a siant.

Nowadays it is a little different:

age 0: born;
age 25: become a priest;
age 40: bishop;
age 50: archbishop;
age 60: cradinal;
age 75: pop;
age 90: die wiv diggnity, muorned by all except Richard Dakwins;
age 95: become a siant.

So we gotta press de cases of all de pops wot aint yet saints, or else poeple is gonna say dey werent as good as John XXIII, John-Paul II, etc. My first idea was to choose a random pop, and de luck of de draw gave me Pop Nubmer 88, Constantine (708-715).

Pope Constantine; but maybe it is too early to cannonize him.

Constantine was a worthy man, and apparently a great opponent of monothelitism, a heresay promoted by de Tablet in those days. But it is too soon to consider him for cannonization.

No, we must go back to Pop Nubmer 9, Hyginus (138-142). Dis is de first pop never to be cannonized, and it seems very unfair, does it not? Wikipedia says: Tradition holds that during his papacy he determined the various prerogatives of the clergy and defined the grades of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. You got it, we has him to thank for havin deacons, priests, monsingors, bishops, etc. How lucky we is.

Not sure if Hyginus invented baths, hygeine, etc.

We don't know how Hyginus died, but it seems dat he didnt manage to become a matryr, which may explane his failure to get cannonized. Still, it's never too late, so please remember him, and if you experience any miracles which may be due to him, then let us know. Or you could just choose a pop of your own.