It's time to mock Charlie Hebdo

Although this blog is primarily for spiritual nourishment, we do occasionally tease the arrogant and powerful; likewise, we receive criticism in good humour.

For example, if Pope Francis insults my mother by calling her a self-absorbed promethean neopelagian, then I do not feel it necessary to punch him. In fact, since he was once employed as a nightclub bouncer, he probably packs quite a good punch himself.

Pope Francis demonstrates the Catholic "punch of peace".

Likewise, if a deacon from Hell devotes a blog post to a character assassination of me, simply because I don't have a high opinion of Bernadette Farrell, then I take it in good humour, simply making a few cryptic references to idiots in garden sheds.

Now, how should we react if people insult Jesus, Mary, etc.? In Chesterton's The Ball and the Cross, there is the distinct suggestion that we should fight them:

The glass fell in ringing fragments on to the pavement, and Evan sprang over the barrier into the shop, brandishing his stick.
  "What is this?" cried little Mr. Turnbull, starting up with hair aflame. "How dare you break my window?"
  "Because it was the quickest cut to you," cried Evan, stamping. "Stand up and fight, you crapulous coward. You dirty lunatic, stand up, will you? Have you any weapons here?"
  "Are you mad?" asked Turnbull, glaring.
  "Are you?" cried Evan. "Can you be anything else when you plaster your own house with that God-defying filth? Stand up and fight, I say."
  A great light like dawn came into Mr. Turnbull's face. Behind his red hair and beard he turned deadly pale with pleasure. Here, after twenty lone years of useless toil, he had his reward. Someone was angry with the paper. He bounded to his feet like a boy; he saw a new youth opening before him.

Never mind this blog: here's something much better to read.

Obviously we do not approve of fanatics murdering cartoonists, even talentless prats who couldn't make a decent joke. Still, if Cardinal Vingt-Trois had horsewhipped the Charlie Hebdo editor on the steps of Notre Dame, many would have thought it no more than he deserved. Cartoons about the Virgin Mary giving birth, or Jesus being sodomized, deserve some response. Curiously, a lot of the Charlie Hebdo stuff is sexual: I suspect that its staff pinched most of their ideas from toilet walls.

So, Cardinal 23 definitely shouldn't have been ringing the bells of Notre Dame in memory of Stéphane "Charb" Charbonnier and his bunch of talentless freaks - a gesture mocked in the new issue of Charlie Hebdo:

"What made us laugh the most is that the bells of Notre Dame rang in our honour," the editorial stated. "We would like to send a message to Pope Francis, who, too, was 'Charlie' this week: we only accept the bells of Notre Dame ringing in our honour when it is Femen who make them tinkle."

No, it's a gesture they don't appreciate. What they appreciate is tasteless abuse.

Charb has some awkward questions to answer at the Pearly Gates.

Got that? Je ne suis pas Charlie. Charlie Hebdo is a blasphemous Christ-hating pile of garbage, written by some very creepy people indeed. As you see from the picture above, Charb himself wore a shirt which his mother bought him when he was a teenager. Also, he couldn't even shave properly. A Peter Pan character stuck in the 1960s. A man whose hobbies included pulling the wings off butterflies and writing on toilet walls. His only friend was a pet rat called Eric, and even Eric decided he was too repulsive and ran away.

A bunch of fools sticking up for radical secularism.

Ring the bells of Notre Dame for the thousands killed by Boko Haram, or for the millions killed by abortionists. Given the quality of French driving you might even ring them for the thousands killed in road accidents. Just don't honour people who insulted your God.

The Bells! The Bells!

All right, rant over. Let Chesterton have the last word. Our duellists, Evan MacIan (Catholic) and James Turnbull (atheist) have reached France.

"Yes, France!" said Turnbull, and all the rhetorical part of him came to the top, his face growing as red as his hair. "France, that has always been in rebellion for liberty and reason. France, that has always assailed superstition with the club of Rabelais or the rapier of Voltaire. France, at whose first council table sits the sublime figure of Julian the Apostate. France, where a man said only the other day those splendid unanswerable words"—with a superb gesture—"'we have extinguished in heaven those lights that men shall never light again.'"
  "No," said MacIan, in a voice that shook with a controlled passion. "But France, which was taught by St. Bernard and led to war by Joan of Arc. France that made the crusades. France that saved the Church and scattered the heresies by the mouths of Bossuet and Massillon. France, which shows today the conquering march of Catholicism, as brain after brain surrenders to it, Brunetière, Coppée, Hauptmann, Barrès, Bourget, Lemaître."
  "France!" asserted Turnbull with a sort of rollicking self-exaggeration, very unusual with him, "France, which is one torrent of splendid scepticism from Abelard to Anatole France."
  "France," said MacIan, "which is one cataract of clear faith from St. Louis to Our Lady of Lourdes."
  "France at least," cried Turnbull, throwing up his sword in schoolboy triumph, "in which these things are thought about and fought about. France, where reason and religion clash in one continual tournament. France, above all, where men understand the pride and passion which have plucked our blades from their scabbards. Here, at least, we shall not be chased and spied on by sickly parsons and greasy policemen, because we wish to put our lives on the game. Courage, my friend, we have come to the country of honour."

Of course, times have changed. And Charlie Hebdo isn't exactly Voltaire, is it?

The Top 100 Christians, part 2

The blogger Cranmer has now opened the envelope: the results of the poll for the top 100 living UK Christians are now out, and the Vicar of Baghdad is a worthy winner. I first blogged on this here, and I am delighted to see that my tips of Vincent Nichols and Giles Fraser were taken seriously. No laughing at the back, there. Also, we had a near miss when we tipped Bishop Campbell of Lancaster, since his most obedient deacon, Nick Donnelly, was on the list.

A truly holy man, and an obvious omission from the list.

Some of the winners have achieved great fame through publicity on this blog: for example, Vicky Beeching, who came out as a rock singer; Tim Stanley, alias Dr Who; Fr Ray Blake, the victim of the Brighton Argus; and Libby Lane, the first Anglican bishopess. Not to mention Austen Ivereigh and Catherine Pepinster. That's enough plugging old posts, Eccles.

Tina Beattie - omitted, in spite of all my efforts.

So who else should have been on the list, and wasn't? I was going to suggest Santa Claus, as he manages to be present in numerous places at the same time, proclaiming the joy of Christmas. However, he turns out to be Turkish, although his holding company is based at the North Pole.

Then there's Christopher Robin (Milne), as in "Christopher Robin is saying his prayers", but he turns out to be dead. The priest-detective Fr Brown of Kembleford, if alive, must be about 130 years old by now: it is rumoured that he lives in retirement in Scotland, calling himself "Basil Loftus" and emerging occasionally to write a humorous column for the Catholic Times. However, this rumour is unconfirmed, so I searched for others who embody the true Christian spirit.

Thomas the Tank Engine, in papal camauro.

Thomas, although a train rather than a human being, comes from a Christian family (the Rev. Wilbert Vere Awdry was his godfather). He is often described as a "really useful engine", but this does not go far enough. In terms of his faithfulness to Christ and his kindness to the poor, he surely provides one of the great spiritual examples of our time. It is true that he has a high carbon wheelprint, and would thus not be in favour with Pope Francis, but I think he can easily overcome such opposition. Success always attracts jealousy.

Fr Jack Hackett.

Although technically Irish, Fr Jack was featured in the Father Ted series of documentaries, which had two British producers, Geoffrey Perkins and Lissa Evans. This makes him eligible for an award, which he wins on account of his great holiness and kindness. Hostile critics have described him as "lecherous", "foul-mouthed" and "alcoholic"; it is true that when he awakes from a deep coma and shouts "EXISTENTIAL SCHIZOPHRENIC" or "NEO-PELAGIAN" at random passers-by, one wonders how he achieved his high position as spiritual leader. However, he is a truly humble man, whose needs are simple (mainly, DRINK), and we plainly see the Light of Christ shining through him.