Pope Francis decides to reform all masses

Pope Francis the Peacemaker has finally found a compromise between all the different factions in the Catholic Church (including those who find spiritual nourishment from Traditional Latin Masses, Novus Ordo masses, LGBTF masses, Clown Masses, etc. etc.).

A few minor changes are expected.

"There was only one possible solution," said the Holy Father. "We can't have people offering different types of masses, while still believing them to be valid. Therefore we must find an alternative!"

Of course there is only one possible alternative - synods! "On Sundays and Holy Days we expect faithful Catholics to go into their churches, sit round tables, and attempt to bore the pants off their neighbours!" explained Cardinal Roche of the Dicastery for Divine Worship. "Coffee and cake - lots of cake - will be provided, as that is definitely a form of worship!"

Preparing for the Synomasses

Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith agrees. "Of course, kissing will be allowed, as that is also a form of worship. We shall extend the ever-popular 'kiss of peace' to thirty minutes and make it more touchy-feely."

The new services - to be called Synomasses - will of course be conducted in "Vernacular", so that everyone can understand them, even if they go to Norway, Mozambique or Samoa. "Those Vernaculans knew a thing or two - they invented a language that everyone could speak!" explained the learned Professor Massimo Faggioli.

Preparing for the Synomasses!

Of course, not everyone is immediately satisfied: "Can we guarantee that every church will have a Rupnik mural?" asked Dr Austen Ivereigh. "Will Pachamama still be revered?" asked Mike Lewis. "Will rainbow flags be flown?" asked Fr James Martin LGBTFSJ. Fear not, Pope Francis the Peacemaker has promised that all of these will be a COMPULSORY part of Synomasses!

The eight most boring moments in church

Clearly, we don't go to church to be entertained (unless we're in the Calvary Chapel), but rather to worship God, and thereby to become more saved. However, there are parts of the service that count as "fatty tissue", and definitely waste our time.

A gripping moment in the Mass.

1. Before the service. Obviously, for a 10 a.m. service you shouldn't turn up at 10 a.m., on the dot. Sometimes the priest is too quick off the mark, and will already be galloping down the aisle; in any case it may be difficult to get seats together, if you are coming as a family. So you turn up at 9.30 instead, and - according to taste - gossip with your neighbours, play with your phone, pray quietly, read the newsletter, or sit thinking holy thoughts. By 10 a.m. all these sources of spiritual nourishment are over, and you're getting bored.

2. A bad hymn. You may not get one of these. Moreover, if you do, you experience a mixture of irritation and boredom. If only I had the courage to kneel down during "Walk in the Light" with my hands over my face in a "Lord, forgive them" attitude.

"No, not 'If I were a fuzzy, wuzzy bear, I'd thank you, Lord for my fuzzy, wuzzy hair'!"

3. Firing up the thurible. This will not apply in many churches, but watching the priest doling out a spoonful of gunpower - or whatever it is - into the thurible, about 20 minutes into the Mass, is very boring, and I don't know why he couldn't have done it beforehand.

Of course, there's always the possibility that Fr Bunsen will make a mess of it and set fire to his chasuble, but I've never seen it happen. The nearest I've ever got to that was when a priest I knew conducted a funeral at a crematorium and scorched his cassock - but it was on an electric fire after the service.

4. The sermon. Many priests are boring, we have to admit. Even (especially) when they steal their homilies from Fr Hezekiah Snoring's Collected Victorian Sermons in 12 bulky volumes. This year, Mercy is the big theme for us, and I never realised before just how boring it could be.

A variation on this is the Bishop's Letter, perhaps giving us even more Mercy ("This week we painted the Door of Mercy with rainbow stripes to show our commitment to the LBGT community, as its previous colours - red and white - suggested a commitment to St George, which many found offensive"), or What I Did This Month ("On Wednesday I enjoyed tea and Eccles cakes with the Medium-Sized Sisters of the Beretta"), or simply the bishop's strategy document ("Here is a list of churches that I am closing down this year").

The Medium-Sized Sisters of the Beretta

5. The kiss of peace. Again a mixture of irritation and boredom, especially, when someone else is trying to beat last week's record of 23 victims. I've said enough on this topic already.

6. Blessing of altar servers / candles / new hassocks / pets. Yes, all these are worthy of blessing - indeed, most things are blessable unless they actually lead one to sin (e.g. copies of the Tablet). But it's a distraction from the service. Also, bringing pet hippopotamuses into church, although not exactly boring, is too "modernist".

7. An end-of-service chat from a representative of CAFOD / the Freemasons / our very own Kate Drivel who spent her gap year ecumenically working with ISIS. The aim here is to drum up support, or possibly money. GO AWAY.

Next week's preacher.

8. Final announcements. Next week the Bishop will be visiting, and there will be a special puppet mass. Tina Beattie's lecture has been cancelled again. There are coffee and cannabis in the Church Hall. All these things are in the newsletter, Father!

Any more?

Eccles finds a safe space

I don't normally agree with Professor Anthony Grayling about very much - nothing personal, but I'm saved and he isn't - and I couldn't really go along with his article on whimpering students. After all, students (except, perhaps, those boring scientists in their white coats) go to university for three years to get away from education, new ideas, opinions and teachers. It does not seem fair to expose them to micro-aggression, which is the term we use nowadays when someone unconsciously says something that we can turn into a cause of offence.

For example, "I trod in a puddle this morning" is an "ablist" remark that can be interpreted as an act of violence towards anyone who happens to be unable to walk, either through disability or drunkenness.

Grayling is, of course, a friend of the Dawkins family and their dog.

And - I'm sorry, professor - but a lot of language needs to come with "trigger warnings", which means "I am about to use everyday terms but if you've got nothing better to do, you can get upset".

In my case, the trigger phrases that raise my blood pressure include "Spirit of Vatican II", "Cardinal Kasper says", "We'll now sing 'Oh what a horrid place the world is' by Bernadette Farrell", "Today we have a visiting preacher, Fr Harry Tique S.J." and "Let us offer each other the sign of peace".

The kiss of peace? No thanks.

At St Tharg's Church, where I normally worship, such acts of micro-aggression are common, and are definitely liable to deter worshippers. However, we do have a side-chapel dedicated to the memory of St Tharg. I have therefore persuaded Fr Arthur to let us use it as a "safe space" for sensitive worshippers. Out go the altar, the candles, and Tracey Emin's religious installation, "The Bed of St Tharg". In come sofas, teddy-bears, blankets to hide under, and the sounds of Gregorian chant.

A safe space in the Tharg Chapel.

Bring on the Year of Mercy with its logo of the two-headed cyclops on skis, its official Paul Inwood Taizé-pastiche hymn, and its mysterious opening of doors! Actually, I don't mind the opening of doors, since Dr Joseph Shaw has kindly provided a liturgy for this in his Latin Mass Society booklet:

Pulso! Pulso!
Quis adest?
Papa Franciscus!
Papa Franciscus quis?

Anyway, bring on the Year of Mercy, and I'll see you in the Tharg Chapel.

No Kiss of Peace for Eccles

Long-time readers of this blog will remember Fr Arthur, our local priest in good standing who takes very seriously the view that we are all sinners: indeed, for two pins he will give you a list of your sins, and, if he spots you in the confessional, will remind you of all the things you forgot to confess.

Fr Arthur has now recruited Deacon Marvin to help him, another man of pronounced likes and dislikes - mostly dislikes. On Sunday we had a hymn by Bernadette Farrell, "Christ, Be Our Light". It's not a completely bad hymn - it doesn't give me stomach cramps like "Shine, Jesus, Shine" or "Walk in the Light" do - but it reads more like a Guardian editorial than a hymn.

All music is equally valid, you see.

Now, you may remember that Mrs Farrell wrote a rather impudent piece in the Tablet, in which she concluded that all styles of worship were equally valid and that the composer James MacMillan was wrong to express dislike for the dross produced by Paul Inwood, Dan Schutte and Gerry Fitzpatrick. Somehow Deacon Marvin overheard a private conversation in which I criticised Bernadette's musical taste, and that set him off.

There's a point in the Novus Ordo Mass where we are encouraged to offer each other the sign of peace. Usually it is the deacon who says this particular exhortation, and what we got this Sunday was the following version "Let us now offer each other the sign of peace. Except for Eccles, who is revolting and unkind, a bitter and twisted old neverwas. Anyone who shakes hands with Eccles is not worthy." You could see the Christian love radiate from the deacon (and the steam coming out of his ears) as he said these charming words.

"We hates Eccles because he criticised Mrs Farrell."

Fr Arthur slapped the little deacon on the shoulder, as if to say "Good man," and so the Kiss of Peace went on without me. "Peace be with you." "Peace be with you." "Sorry, Eccles, you're an untouchable." "Peace be - oh, I've done you already, haven't I?" "Unhand me, sir!" "Ugh, you just sneezed in those hands." "Peace be with you." "Pax tecum." "Traddy pig!" "That makes twelve handshakes, I'm on a roll this week!" "I'm a Catholic, get me out of here!" "Bog off, Eccles." "Peace be with you."

Well, I never much liked the Kiss of Peace, and it is only an optional part of the Mass, one of those things that the Ghost of Vatican II slipped in when nobody was looking. And it is humbling once in a while to be told by a man in holy orders that he hates us.

St Nicholas gives Arius the "slap of peace".

In praise of the Fishwrap

The American National Catholic Reporter is not highly regarded by orthodox Catholics: indeed Fr Zuhlsdorf has been known to refer to it as the Fishwrap. But does it have any merits?

The most obvious use for the National [Hahaha] Reporter (H/T Fr Z).

If five thousand friends suddenly descend on you wanting a meal - as can happen if someone mentions your party on Facebook - then there is no better way of catering for them than with fish sandwiches: in the right hands, five loaves and two fish can go a long way. In these circumstances, your fish would naturally be best wrapped in the National [Heretic?] Reporter, which is capable of packing in so much that is oily, foul-smelling, and even slightly rotten. Only the British Tablet can compete in this respect.

However, under controlled laboratory conditions, some people have managed to read the National [Whatever] Reporter without going insane, and today we shall review two of its articles.

See how many mistakes you can spot.

Did you know that the Catholic Church has women priests? I didn't, even if you spell them "Womenpriests". I don't think Pope Francis knew, either, and he's generally considered to be something of an expert on the matter. Here we have the National Catholic Reporter - yes, it really does use the C-word in its title - claiming that a gaggle of ladies in suspiciously stripy vestments are priests, indeed, that one of them is a bishop. Phew! That's a relief! We can cancel the Reformation and re-unite with the Anglicans, who are just beginning to catch up in this vital matter.

Now after that, you may think that some of the NCR editorial staff are in need of an analyst, the sort of person who can lie them down on a couch and say to them in a cod-Austrian accent, "So, and how long haf you had zis delusion about vimmin priests?" Luckily, there is an analyst on the staff, and he's a Jesuit!

Fr Thomas Reese SJ, a senior analyst for NCR.

Fr Tommy deserves the credit for another article that we'd like to review. Its headline is unpromising and a little insulting, but it is possible that - as at the British Daily Telegraph - the headlines are often written by teenagers on work experience. On the other hand, the quality of the article that follows also suggests that it was written by a teenager, rather than a worthy disciple of St Ignatius of Loyola.

Now, on this blog, we have always known that the kiss of peace was slightly problematical: see, for example, this guide, which tells you how to conduct the kiss without upsetting your neighbours, and this one, which tells you how to do so without catching an illness. Certain people in the Vatican have now taken our message to heart. You are not there to grope your neighbour, nor to try and beat your personal best in terms of "kisses" scored.

A scoreboard showing the current record as 346 kisses.

Fr Tommy takes a negative view of the Catholic church: basically the "Catholics against the Vatican" tribe has won. He says: The Catholic community, no matter what the Vatican may want, has made the kiss of peace in its current place a joyous symbol and no amount of catechesis will change that.

Yes, it's a great paper, the National [Oh-dear] Reporter. Recommended especially to Presbyterians, Muslims, Atheists, and anyone else who wants to see the Catholic Church looking very silly. Oh, and to fishmongers.

We 'ad it tough before Vatican II

In 'onour, er, honour of Yorkshire Day, here is the original version of the Four Yorkshiremen sketch.

Eee, one 'ad it tough. A Yorkshireman flies t' flag.

Aye, them were difficult days when I were a lad. We'd go to church and t'priest wouldn't even look at us. Kept 'is back to us and said 'e were too busy lookin' towards God. We 'ad to face in t'same direction as 'e did. Aye, we used to dream that 'e'd turn round and grin at us, like priests do these days.

What's more, t'service were in Latin. Very confusin' that were. We'd go to furrin parts like Lancashire or Benidorm for our 'olidays, and t'Mass were still in Latin, rather than t'vernacular. Aye, I paid ninepence for a Yorkshire-Lancashire phrase book, and I never got to use it in t'church. What a waste that were.

Silly games at t'altar? Luxury!

And we didn't 'ave no guitars, or even a recorder. They got someone wot 'ad actually 'ad music lessons to play t'organ. Called it more reverent. And when we 'ad 'ymns we didn't get modern stuff, just Gregorian chant and sometimes music by dead people known as composers. You lads wi' your Paul Inwoods and Damian Lundys don't know 'ow lucky you are.

We 'ad to sit through 'omilies on religious subjects too. None of your bishops' letters tellin us all about 'is trip to t'grotto at Lords, or t'priest explainin' t'cultural significance of t'rape scene in Game of Thrones. No, we got Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Like it or lump it.

T'kiss of peace.

We didn't have t'kiss of peace neither. If you wanted to grope t'lasses you 'ad to go down t'pub for that sort of thing. Nowadays t'kids just won't keep their hands to themselves, will they?

Aye, we was poor and 'umble in t'worship, but we had God, didn't we? You tell that to t'young lads of today wi' their clown Masses, their transgendered awareness Masses, and their puppet Masses, and they just won't believe you.

Aye, and t'bishops used to support their deacons in them days, too.

World Pope Competition

As most of our readers will know, the Catholic Church has abandoned the old method of choosing its pope - whereby a lot of old men sat in a smoke-filled room trading insults for several days - in favour of a new competition in which the candidates battle it out in pairs. Brazil has been hosting the current competition, which started with the World Youth Day in 2013 and has been carrying on ever since.

The finalists, from Argentina and Germany.

The British did very badly in the competition. Keith O'Brien from Scotland failed to qualify - indeed he was accused of foul play - and England's Vincent Nichols was eliminated at an early stage when it was discovered that he had very few goals, and was incapable of saving.

Vincent Nichols: "a disappointing performance".

In fact England have not won the competition since 1154, when Pope Adrian IV (Nick Brakespear) took the title after extra time. However, the English always live in hope of a repeat performance, and one often sees the St George's flag being displayed during papal conclaves.

Cardinal Vingt-Trois of France wore this shirt, but failed to win.

The competition was not without incident. Cardinal Suàrez of Uruguay was disqualified for biting his opponent, evidently misunderstanding just what is considered acceptable conduct for the "kiss of peace".

Don't cry for me, Marge and Tina! Farley and Beattie want to see a woman win.

In the semi-finals, Joe Ratzinger (Germany) put seven key doctrinal points past the Archbishop of São Salvador da Bahia (Brazil), whereas George Bergoglio (Argentina) struggled to beat the Metropolitan Bishop of Utrecht (Netherlands) on penalties. The entire universe waits to see who will win the final: will the modern philosophical style of Bergoglio really prove stronger than the traditional dialectic of Ratzinger? As the referee puts it: "Who am I to judge?"

St Charlie Wojtyła (Poland), a previous winner of the title.

Pope Francis baptises a Dalek

Following Pope Francis's comment that he would be happy to baptise a Martian, it has been revealed that on Monday he actually baptised a Dalek in a private ceremony.

I-AM-A-SAVED-DA-LEK.

We asked Dalek Pancras to tell us about his baptism (his original name was Birt but he changed it, having been baptised on St Pancras's day).

"IT-WENT-WELL-ECC-LES," he replied. "I-WAS-EX-OR-CISED. EX-OR-CISED. I-AM-FREE-FROM-SIN. I O-BEY-THE-POPE. I O-BEY."

This in itself is unusual, as so many Catholics (even cardinals) wouldn't dream of taking any notice of what the pope says. Dalek Pancras went on to explain how the Pope had advised him to stop exterminating people, or, if that was not possible, to try and cut down a little. If things didn't work out, the Pope had said, "Who am I to judge?"

We asked Pancras what his future plans were, and he said that he was very interested in modernist trends in the Catholic Church, and that he was already learning to sing Paul Inwood's AL-LE-LU-IA-CH-CH and to practise his liturgical dancing.

Newly-converted Christians sometimes have trouble with the Kiss of Peace.

How to stay healthy in church

On advice from my doctor, who was concerned about my blood pressure, I went to a "said" Mass today: being a music-lover, I suffer a lot of stress if I have to sing "Shine, Jesus, Shine", "Walk in the Light", or "Follow Me". It is also bad for my blood pressure to hear badly-played guitars and flutes. So a "said" Mass it was.

Now, can you see the next health hazard?

I was sitting next to the aisle. In front of me, a man coughing and sneezing into his hands, practically non-stop. Behind me, a woman, less of an invalid, but also sneezing into her hands once in a while. Ahead of me... the dreaded Kiss of Peace!

"Sorry, Eccles, I should have sat next to you."

Clearly, when the deacon (for it was he) uttered the fateful words about offering each other a sign of peace, I was not going to be able to avoid clasping the germ-sodden hands of Mr Sneezy and Mrs Spluttery. The words of a famous 1960s hymn came to mind:

Coughs and sneezes spread diseases:
Trap the germs in your handkerchief.

It is memorably sung to the tune of Deutschland Über Alles (Haydn's Emperor's Hymn) by Tony Hancock in the Blood Donor sketch. I heard that Kevin Mayhew was planning to include it in his next hymnbook, set to a newer and more trivial tune.

"Coughs and sneezes spread diseases."

Let's formulate this as a chess problem: Eccles to move.

My inspiration - a chess knight!

Yes, I surreptitiously edged two places to the left, behind the military man in the eye-patch, and in front of the middle-aged woman who insisted on singing loudly, even though it was widely reported that she could not carry a tune in a bucket. During the offertory, I had to get up anyway, to pass the collection plate to the man on my left, who vaguely resembled a film star. So when I sat down again, I was a knight's move away from the sneezing duo. The current rules of etiquette mean that shaking hands is not compulsory at that distance, although a "leer of peace" is expected. Saved!

"Peace be with you! But come any closer and I'll shoot you with my phaser."

I'll stop there - I think I've got a cold coming on.

NO 4: the Sign of Peace

We're continuing with our guide to some of the more unusual things you may expect to see in a Novus Ordo Mass, and today we have something very ecumenical, as it occurs in many Church of England services too.

Surrounded by 8 neighbours - but which do I greet first?

Our hearts sink as we reach the point where the priest tells us to offer each other the sign of peace. The first step is to decide on the order in which we are going to harass our neighbours - during the sermon is usually a good time to make a little diagram like the one above, and prepare a batting order. Probably you should start with the lady on your left, but don't hug her too hard or she'll call you names. Then the seedy-looking chap on your right.

The nature of the physical contact allowed will depend on the church, but KEEP YOUR CLOTHES ON. If you're wearing any, of course.

Be warned that the man behind you will probably thump you if you leave him too late. I'd avoid the chap with the big teeth altogether, personally.

A typical kiss of peace.

Appropriate forms of greeting:

Peace be with you!
Pax tecum!
Peace!

Pax, Man! - an acceptable greeting in some churches.

Inappropriate forms of greeting:

Peace off!
If you wish pacific communication with me, kindly arrange it 
through my solicitor. After you've cut down that tree which is
blocking my light.
Hello, cheeky!

In most churches use a simple "Peace be with you, peace be with you, peace be with you, I've done you already, haven't I?" and, for those who are too far away to reach, a "Mwah!" or a sheepish grin will do.

A pious Catholic demonstrates the Vatican-II recommended "grin of peace".

The Nightmare Song

With further apologies to Gilbert and Sullivan. But there's always room for one more pastiche, isn't there?

When you're sitting in church, and you're trying to search for a meaningful theme in the service,
You may find that it seems you've been having bad dreams, and they're certainly not for the nervous.

Warning - Damian Lundy ahead.

For it's Walk in the the Light, with its words very trite, that they've got as the hymn for procession:
At its music banal you are starting to snarl - finding it hard to control your aggression! Then things get even gorier - Kyrie and Gloria, sung to a setting by Inwood -
Which destroys all the sense. What could make you less tense? Well, you feel that perhaps a large gin would!

An antidote to Inwood.

The priest's got no biretta, he thought it was better to dress in a cape and deer-stalker,
While the deacon's emphatic, he'll wear no dalmatic; he's dressed like a long-distance walker.

Father Holmes prepares for Mass.

The Epistles of Paul, we don't have them at all, though he wrote of some truths sempiternal.
What we get in their place makes you green in the face - it's a page of Dan Brown's book (Infernal!)
Well, you hope that the preacher will be a good teacher, but instead they've wheeled in Tina Beattie,
Who's at war with the Pope, and there isn't much hope that they're going to sign a peace treaty.

Lest we forget...

She has often been banned, and you do understand that her words must be treated with caution:
All traditions are wrong, let us sing a new song: women priests, same-sex marriage, abortion!
Then it's on to the creed, and it makes your heart bleed, when you see all of the bits they've omitted:
For the priest isn't sure he believes any more, so it's best not to get too committed!

An uncontroversial edition of the creed.

Well it's time for some prayer. Yet again you despair - for we pray for Hans Küng, not Pope Francis.
A collection they'll take, but first - not a mistake - we'll be getting liturgical dances!
A guitar twangs away, to our increased dismay, with some rubbish the player has brought in.
Six girls leap to their feet, do the Liverpool beat, which is mainly suggestive cavorting.

A liturgical can-can.

They come round with the plate, you're obliged to donate, though you really had thought of refusin'...
For the case they support is to buy vintage port for a transgendered bishop called Susan.
Well the rest of the Mass is just equally crass, like the bit where you cuddle your neighbour,
When you know very well she would see you in Hell, for two pins, with the aid of a sabre!

The kiss of peace.

When it's time to receive, you just cannot believe that the priest simply said "Come and get it!"
So you stay in your pew, feeling more and more blue, for you certainly think "Just forget it!"
Now it's Shine, Jesus, Shine! - oh, that hymn's really fine - as the song that we sing when it's finished:
Shine on me, shine on me, dum-de-dum, dum-de-dee... At the end you feel strangely diminished.

The worst is yet to come...

So you head for the door - Father'll be there for sure, with a greeting (he's likely to gabble it);
BUT right down the aisle, there's a huge unsold pile of a scurrilous rag called the TABLET!

From this sight you retreat, running into the street, for it's evil in print, you reflect as you sprint, heading into the town, to the pub where you drown... all your sorrows in beer, for the Tablet brings fear, of a hideous curse, yes, an evil, far worse, than you previously met, and you're really upset, by the demons within, which may lead you to sin, and destruction which can't be amended...

Read my new column in the Tablet!

But the service is past, and it's freedom at last, and next week you begin again, with a new priest (called Finigan?) so thank goodness this nightmare song's ended!

A Cathlic book

Well, my bruvver Bosco esscaped from de hopsital and ran down de street, dat's not bad wiv all his injurries, but when de Lord is wiv you, and Jessus tells you dat you is saved, den you got de strentgh of ten men. Here is anuvver pitcher of Bosco showin a certtain quiet dignitty as he gives de kiss of peace to some passers-by who aint saved.

"Is we bein raptured, Bosco?" I asked when I cuaght him up. "Only I fought it would be more excittin dan dis."
"Shut up, Eccles," replied my bruvver. Dis is how he treats me when he is cross, I fink dat even when we gits to Heaven he's gonna say "Shut up, Eccles."

We got home and knokced on the door, becos dem nuns what beat us up had stollen our house keys. Grate-Anti Moly opened de door.
"You're de rabbit. Go away! Go back to your donnkeys! Sockpoppet!" she screamed.
"Who's de rabbit, Anti?" I asked.
"Both of you. Fannatical, traddie, sad, RC cliqque bigots of the worst sort, don't try to impose your superstitoins on me, you constantly insullt me but seem totally incappable of realizing this..."
"Eccles, go and git a botle of sherry from de shop round de corner," hissed Bosco.
"Is you sure, Bosco?" I whipsered back. "It seems a bit cruel to hit Anti wiv a sherry botle. Maybe we could clibm in thruogh a window instead."
"It's for her to drink, you punchdrunk airhead!" repplied my bruvver, kindly puttin me straihgt.

Two hours later in de house, Anti was snorrin peacefully. But Bosco was readin a big book and gittin more and more angry. "Eccles, look at dis Cathlic book I found!" he shouted. "Dis proved dey aint saved, dem fillthy swine! It says here: 'Jesus was no more than a mortal whom We favored and made an example to the Isrealites.'"

"Bosco, we gottem!" I said. "Dis proves dat de Cathlics is wrong from start to finish and dey can't be saved. Woss this Cathlic book called den?"
"Dey calls it de Korran," said Bosco. "I read on de Internet dat it was written by a Pop called Mohhamed. Dey got a lot about dis Allah chap in it, I fink he's a Cathlic iddle."
Well we is an unassaillable position now, and I spose dem Cathlics aint gonna dare show dere faces round here in futture.

Here's a pitcher of a liddle boy worshippin a golden iddle. It shows dat dem Cathlic leads dere kids into iddletree very young, I finks it's shockin, and so does Bosco.