Pope Francis makes an infallible joke

Theologians, canon lawyers, professors, journalists, Jesuits, and Catholics worldwide are currently trying to get to grips with Pope Francis's latest claim that he is the Devil. Should this be interpreted as an infallible statement? Or at least part of the Catholic Magisterium? Well, if not, does it have the "ex aeroplane" authority of an in-flight declaration? Or maybe it's just a load of Scalfaris, and never happened at all?

You see the problem. If some of the Pope's statements are deemed to be jokes, how are we to tell which they are? Is Amoris Laetitia just one big joke? Or is it just the footnotes? Will it be necessary for Cardinal Burke to issue another Dubium along the lines of: "Are you really the Devil, Holy Father?" Was the appointment of Cardinal Cupich ("the world's nastiest cardinal") a joke that was accidentally taken seriously?

"From now on, if I'm wearing the balloon hat, I'm joking, otherwise I'm being Magisterial."

Fortunately, Catholics are asked to respect the views of the Pope, but do not need to agree with them unless they bear the authority of the Magisterium. Unlike many of the Pope's utterances, the "I am the Devil" claim does not contradict the teachings of previous Popes: on the other hand, Catholics are still not obliged to believe this new doctrine.

So, please let us have no more queues of people at Confession saying "Father, the Pope says he's the Devil, but I cannot believe this teaching. I think he's just a very naughty pope."

A red nose indicates a Magisterial statement where the "infallibility" button has not been pushed.

We are looking forward to hearing jokes from Pope Francis along the lines of "A cardinal, a bishop and a seminarian went into a bar." If the papal balloon-hat is not being worn, this means that the event actually happened (and Archbishop Viganò has all the details).

Father Jekyll and Pope Hyde

One of the classics of Gothic horror is the story of Father Jekoglio, the humble Argentine priest, who became interested in chemical research. He discovered a mysterious potion - Amorisine - which transformed him from a normally-benevolent cleric, anxious always to love his fellow men and teach true Catholic doctrine, into a raging tyrant who, under the name of Pope Hyde, left a trail of destruction behind him.

Father Jekoglio demonstrates his potion to Hans Küng.

To begin with, everyone believed that Jekoglio and Hyde were two different people. One dark night the police found the corpse of Fra' Matthew Festing, beaten to death with a boeselager (a blunt instrument), and the witnesses claimed that a sinister man in a white coat was responsible. Others pointed to the mysterious fate of four cardinals who had been asking too many questions - two dying suddenly, the others fleeing into hiding. Surely Pope Hyde knew something about this? But then the next day Father Jekoglio appeared in public, smiling, and preaching about mercy and free love (or in Latin, Amoris Libertas).

"Wanted" posters appear in the streets of Rome.

However, something linked the two men. Jekoglio and Hyde lived at the same address - "Humility Towers", Vatican City. Was Jekoglio sheltering the infamous Hyde? Or was there a more sinister explanation?

Hyde continued to rampage through the streets of Rome. His closest associates were some of the riff-raff of the city: Emma Bonino, the "pump murderer"; Eugenio Scalfari, the 107-year-old journalist who made up his own stories; Antonio Spadaro, the mathematical genius who was also a master of invective; Walter Kasper, the escaped lunatic. Stories continued to mount of the infamous deeds of the mysterious Hyde. Had he really denied the existence of Hell? Was he really overturning Catholic teaching on marriage? What did he really know about the Vatican Bank Robbery?

Jolly Father Jekoglio.

At first, Jekoglio could control his transformations into the infamous Hyde. But then they began to occur involuntarily - often on aeroplane journeys he would begin to utter unntelligible nonsense, and give the appearance of a soul in torment. The word "synod" also acted as a trigger, and whenever he heard it he had an uncontrollable urge to invite innocent people to meetings and make up accounts of what they had said.

In the end Jekoglio resolved to cease becoming Hyde. Perhaps there would be room for him in the Benedict XVI home for retired popes? He had a serum - Magisterine - that could reverse the transformation, but it required larger and larger doses to bring him back to his orthodox Jekoglio personality. Eventually, he had gone too far, and he knew that the transformation was irreversible. He would always be Pope Hyde. And, at the end, his soul would simply disappear.

Jesuits say the funniest things

Don't you love Jesuits? They can be really cute in the way that grown-ups simply aren't. Listening to them talking, trying to make sense of the adult world, is a pleasure and a delight.

I visited a Jesuit playground and met two of the little darlings having fun together; one was called Jim ("I'm Jezzie James") and the other Tony ("Spideroman").

Tony playing with his friends Big Frank and Arthur (the gang leaders).

Me: Hello, Jesuits, are you having fun?

Jim: I'm building a bridge. Poo, it's fallen down again!

Tony: I'm doing sums. 1 and 1 is 3. 2 and 2 is 5. Tee hee hee!

Me: Oh, right. Did you go to Church today, Jesuits?

Possibly the stupidest thing ever said by a Jesuit.

Jim: Yes, it was all about a wedding. Jesus wasn't allowed to go to it.

Tony: Naughty Jesus was a biggot! Won't go to Heaven!

Jim: He should have listened to the Canny... Cannonite woman!

Tony: I gotta new Bible.

Jim: He's gotta new Bible. It's the Messy Bible.

Tony: Message Bible. A special one for Jesuits.

A special Jesuit Bible with all the sense removed.

Jim: What does the angel say when he sees Mary?

Tony: Nice to see you, to see you nice! Tee hee hee!

Jim: And Jesus talks to Mary Magdulum. Says "Hello, Mary, how would you like to be the Pope?"

"Unlike Jesus, I'm properly dressed for a wedding!"

Tony: Hey, here comes Arthur. He's the leader of our gang.

Arthur: Hello, Jim, hello, Tony. Who's this?

Tony: It's Mr Eccles. He's a witless worm. Tee hee hee.

Arthur: He's got a tape recorder.

Jim: Jesus had a tape recorder.

Arthur: No he didn't!

Jim: He did, he did, he did!

Arthur: No, he didn't. That's why we don't know what he said.

Jim: We can make it up, can't we?

"Today I'm launching a Crusade against armchair Catholics!"

Tony: Shut up you lot. Here comes Big Frank. He's got a Magic Sterium.

Jim: What's a Magic Sterium?

Tony: It's for making up Cathlic teaching. It has a pair of scissors for cutting up old teaching, and a nice pen for writing new doctrine.

Frank: All right, you lot. Today we're going to break some armchairs. I don't like armchair Catholics!

Omnes: Ooh, what fun!

"Now I say SHAZAM and the Pope disappears!"

With thanks to @topcatholic and @thecorrectpope for locating some material.

Catholic Doomsday clock set to "Magisterial"

The Catholic Doomsday clock was initiated in 2013, as a way of warning against the inevitable meltdown that would follow should Pope Francis attempt to say anything "infallibly".

Whereas previous popes have refused to "go nuclear" since infallibility was defined in the 19th century, there has been an increasing risk that Pope Francis would say something mindlessly stupid ex cathedra.

Is the Vatican about to go nuclear?

The Pope has so far used a variety of weapons in an attempt to impose a new version of Catholicism: probably the least aggressive are tweets (produced by a teenage intern), which are indistinguishable from the platitudes of the Dalai Lama; more striking are his "air attacks" consisting of new off-the-cuff doctrines expressed on aeroplane journeys, and usually "explained" and "interpreted" afterwards; he is also a dab hand at deploying sockpuppets (Spadaro, Ivereigh, Faggioli, Marx, Daneels, oh there's too many to name...) to say the unthinkable, usually with a healthy dose of abuse thrown in.

Then we come to Amoris Laetitia, ghost-written, not based on anything agreed at the synods it followed, not even properly read by the Pope. A ticking bombshell, which brave bomb-disposers have attempted to defuse with DUBIA^TM technology. Still it continues to tick, tick, tick...

We may ignore Laudato Si', an attempt at building a "green" bomb which would destroy minds but not doctrine. Well, everyone else does.

Now, however, the threat level has reached "Magisterial". All the changes due to Vatican II, even the ones which are nothing at all to do with Vatican II, have been declared "irreversible".

Like his Popemobile, Pope Francis has no brakes, and no reverse gear.

Yes, the Spirit of Vatican II has won, and the threat level is now Magisterial. Pope Francis can repeal decisions made by his predecessors, such as Benedict XVI, John-Paul II, Pius X, Pius V, Peter, ... and even Jesus. BUT NOBODY ELSE HAS THE NUCLEAR CODES.

So the threat level is definitely Magisterial, if not Hysterical, "What I say goes, and cannot be contradicted, even if it contradicts Catholic teaching."

Theologians warn that some heresy may soon be proclaimed Infallibly.

Excuse me while I head for my bunker.