How to conduct a papal funeral

Today we have another instalment in our long-running series "How to be a good pope", providing useful advice to those readers (Hi, Blase! Hi, Arthur! Hi, Luis!) who have already booked a fitting with Gammarelli ("Pope Suits For All Sizes").

The story so far: your predecessor, Pope Benjamin, took the advice of the St Gallbladder Mafia, and resigned his office (for after Cardinal Comic Murphy-O'Blimey put a horse's head in his bed, and Cardinal Godless Dandruff enquired about fitting him for concrete boots, he felt it was time to call it a day).

Of course, some argue that he had resigned the Munus but not the Ministerium because he said the wrong words for resignation: these traddy Latin terms mean that he could still be pope. Of course you don't accept this, especially since the St Gallbladder chaps have given up trying to threaten him and gone back to money-laundering financial speculation instead. Now he is believed to have died - but maybe his last words were invalid and he is not really dead? What a mess.

Eccles: get on with the advice. We haven't got all day. Pietro.

"All-purpose funeral homily. Do not read this bit out. Oops!"

Well, one thing you have to do at Pope Benjamin's funeral is to preach a homily. Now, this will be difficult, as your usual homilies consist of a stream of insults. Not today, please! Avoid words like "rigid" and "backwardist", whatever you thought of your predecessor - in any case, you have spent the last ten years reversing all the changes he made. So keep your homily totally bland, the sort that can be given for anyone who dies - you're not very good at profound theological statements, anyway. At the end you may end with "And so we say farewell to [fill in name here]" and everyone will be pleased.

Here comes trouble...

Later in the service, the faithful will wish to receive Communion. Some rigid troublemakers will want to receive on the tongue while kneeling, but this will not go down well with all the priests present. The solution is to provide a range of priests etc. of different flavours - some rigid priests, some less traditional ones, some dressed as clowns, some holding balloons, and of course a few extraordinary ministers (they don't have to be very extraordinary, the usual vestments of tee-shirts, jeans and trainers will be fine). Then the congregation can make its own choices.

Finally, one disadvantage of a papal funeral is that you cannot exclude cardinals, even the ones you are avoiding. The last time that Cardinal Tao of China turned up you managed to avoid him by hiding in a broom cupboard, and so he couldn't complain to you about China's policy of rebranding members of the secret police as Catholic bishops. This time it's not going to be so easy. Cardinal Tao has been taking lessons in the game of hide-and-seek, and will certainly find you if you hide under the bed or in a cupboard. Does the Vatican have a "Pope's Hole" where persecuted popes can hide? If not, you'll have to meet him.

Now, gentlemen, I want a clean fight.

Or you could release some photoshopped pictures to make it look as though you met him? No, people will see through that. Make it a short meeting, in a sacred place, so that he cannot practise the ancient martial arts of Chop Suey or Foo Yung on you. Your own Papa-Slappa may be good for enough for young female pilgrims, but will never defeat a cardinal with a black belt!

As for what you say to him... keep it short. Pretend you have an urgent appointment with two cardinals who want to ask you a few Dubia. This may even be true, but if it is, I can't help you.

How can I make my sermons less boring?

A week or two ago, Pope Francis ordained nineteen new priests, telling them to feed the people of God with heartfelt homilies rather than boring sermons. Since then, many priests have contacted me, asking "How can I make my sermons less boring?"

"So I told him, 'I will not dance with you for three reasons. First because you are drunk, second because that music is not a dance but our national anthem, and third because I am the cardinal-archbishop of Buenos Aires.'"

Certainly many sermons are boring, but here are a few ways to make them less so, based on observation of the Holy Father himself:

1. Say something so confusing that nobody knows what you really mean. People will ask themselves, "Did he really say that we should all try and commit a few extra sins today?"

2. Insult your congregation. Call them "Sloth-diseased, acedic Christians!" or ""Querulous and disillusioned pessimists!" or the old favourite, ""Self-absorbed, Promethean neo-Pelagians!" There is a useful list of insults here.

3. Make an off-colour joke about mothers-in-law, or perhaps women in general. Try to avoid jokes about ethnic minorities, homosexuals or the disabled, as there are limits to what even a priest can get away with.

This is going to end badly, Deacon.

Apart from that, here are few tips about keeping your audience's attention. Start with something arresting, preferably about SEX, as this is a subject that occupies most people's minds most of the time.

POOR: "I think the sex life of the rhubarb plant is really fascinating."

WEAK, BUT BETTER: "The sex life of the three-toed sloth is one that carries a powerful message to Christians."

BETTER STILL: "You may have seen a recent television programme in which Professor Dairymaid McCauliflower told us that nobody ever had sex until the Reformation."

BEST, BUT A BIT PERSONAL. "The sex life of Sally Bercow is really fascinating."

We are not sure what is happening here.

Apart from sex, other subjects that your audience can identify with include football (for some), pop music (but try not to describe Elton John as a "promising youngster"), and what was on television last night.

You may also want a gimmick tailored to the subject of your sermon. If your subject is "I am the vine", then bring a vine in with you and wave it, just in case your audience has never seen one. If it's "Money is the root of all evil", tear a five-pound note in half (you can still use it afterwards), to symbolize your rejection of the material.

Kate Bottle (Anglican) explains the Miracle at Cana.

Anyway, you get the picture. Avoid all mention of dead people, such as Aquinas, Luther or Newman. Only very clever people have heard of them, and it violates the last and most important rule of sermon-giving, or public-speaking in general: WHEN IN DOUBT, DUMB DOWN.

NO 3: the Liturgy of the Word

Continued from Part 2.

This is the third instalment of our guide to some of the delightful things you may expect to see in the Ordinary Form Mass. It's time for the Liturgy of the Word, and today we're sending all the children out into the church hall so that they can receive their own instruction, while the grown-ups get a slightly more advanced version.

This Sunday we have the story of St Peter in prison, so the little darlings are going to draw a picture of him.

St Peter in prison, by Phil Evans (age 6).

For the grown-ups we have three readings, concluding with the Gospel, and then we come to the most exciting bit of all, the homily or sermon. Settle down, now, and let's see what spiritual delights are on offer.

I think I'll turn my hearing aid off now.

Now there are three options for the homily, and you may experience any of these.

1. The Bishop's Letter. Once a month +Fred sends out a letter to be read by all parishes. Bishops are often quite intelligent people, so this may be the best option - but if you're unlucky it will be about +Fred's holiday at the seaside: "I was walking along the beach at Hunstanton, and I thought of Jesus, who also used to go to the seaside, although it was at Galilee, and they didn't have seaside rock and donkey rides."

The Sea of Galilee - no candy floss available.

More likely, the bishop will impress you with his learning. "I was reminded of the words of Chesterton, who quoted Aquinas as pointing out that St Matthew had reported Our Lord as saying 'Lo! The people have no candy floss.'..."

2. The priest makes up a homily himself. This can be very good, or it can be very bad. At least if he's reading his own words the priest won't roll his eyes and talk in a silly voice.

3. Worst of all, you may just get: "One of our parishioners, Antonia Flannery, has recently been to India for three months, helping in a hospital there, and she's going to tell us of her experiences."

So Antonia tells you all about the hardships in Indian hospitals, where they don't have all the NHS facilities such as managers, equality and diversity coordinators, health and safety officers, etc. and have to make do with doctors and nurses.

Oh good, Antonia's going to show us her holiday snaps.

Antonia went to Mass in India, but it was in Tamil so she didn't understand much. Do NOT at this point shout out "Why didn't you go to a Latin Mass?"

All too soon, the homily is over, we say the Creed (Nicene if there's time, Apostles' if the priest thinks we're running late). There's a bit in the book about bowing when we talk about the Incarnation; don't do that, as you'll probably be the only one, and people will look at you wondering whether you've just had a heart attack.

Well, that's about it for the Liturgy of the Word, so let's welcome back the children with their pictures of St Peter in prison.

Now, Daryl, how did St Peter get out of prison? 
DID HE DIG A TUNNEL?
No, Daryl, try again. Didn't God send someone to rescue him?
OH YES I SAW THAT, IT WAS MISSION IMPOSSIBLE. ST JOHN PUT ON A 
RUBBER FACE MASK AND IMPERSONATED THE GUARD.
No, Daryl you imbecile. You weren't paying attention.

Mission Impossible - St Andrew infiltrates the prison.

Eventually, you do get some meaningful responses from the children, and the Mass continues. More next time.