The Wind in the Vatican

With apologies to Kenneth Grahame

"Do you know," said the Brand-Moler, blissfully drinking a huge tankard of German beer as he sat in the garden of the Pope Emeritus. "I've hardly ever been to these apartments before."

"Really?" said the Ratzinger solemnly. "To my mind there is nothing at all so worthwhile as messing about in the Vatican."

"What a day I'm having, Ratty," continued the Brand-Moler with a sigh of full contentment. What's in the picnic basket?"

"Following papal advice, there's Legumes," replied the Ratzinger briefly. "BroadBeansLentilsPeasPeanuts BakedBeansChickpeas MassimoFaggioli PulsesRunnerBeans..."

"Oh stop, stop!" cried the Brand-Moler in ecstasies. "This is too much! What a feast, Ratty!"

A feast.

Presently Cardinal Raymond Badger entered. He had been visiting an area full of mysterious warrens, from which strange little faces would peep out at intervals to say things like "Hail Pachamama!" "Let's build a bridge towards the weasel community" and "Won't anyone buy my new book Pope Francis on the Orient Express?"

"You know Toad's got a new Magisterium?" said the Ratzinger to the Badger once the Brand-Moler had been introduced. "A completely new one. He crashed the one his ancestors handed down to him."

"I know," said the Badger gloomily. "One of these days he'll get locked up, for sure. I've heard that the Jesuweasels are just waiting to over-run the Vatican as soon as his back's turned. Then they'll bring in rainbow flags and Ignatian yoga."

Three cardinals in conclave.

"Why don't you stop him?" asked the Brand-Moler.

"You don't understand," explained the Ratzinger. "Nobody stops Toad. It always has to be something new. One day it's a change to the Gloria, the next it's a new version of the Lord's prayer."

From somewhere close by came a distant whirring sound, which gradually rose to a crescendo. Then there was a mighty crash, and the Toad came flying head-first over the hedge, to land in a nearby ditch. As the animals hurried over looking very concerned, the Toad extracted his head from the mud: lying in the ditch with a contented smile on his face, he sighed and muttered to himself: "O bliss! Oh my! ... Amoris Laetitia ... Laudato Si' ... Fratelli Tutti ... Pope-pope! >>> CRASH!!! <<<"

Getting an answer to the Dubia.

Catholic Church to celebrate the Black Death

It has been decided that, following the celebrations in 2017 of the anniversary of the Reformation (with its mass-slaughter on both sides, the destruction of the monasteries, etc.), it would be similarly appropriate in 2023 for the Catholic Church to celebrate the 675th anniversary of the Black Death.

Federico Lombardi explains

"It used to be thought that the death of 100 million people was nothing but one of the worst tragedies of European history," said Fr Federico Lombardi of the Holy See Press Office, "but nowadays we can look back and see the positive aspects of this period of history. Many people were brought to God rather sooner than they expected, and industrialization came to a halt, protecting the Middle Ages from the worst aspects of climate change."

It is thought that Pope Francis is anxious to reach out to the rodent community - although he will not celebrate the Rodentine Mass - since he appreciates that, although rats are widely blamed for bringing the Black Death to Europe, they too suffered many grievous losses. "The Holy Father has a great fondness for funny little creatures with whiskers," explained Fr Lombardi.

Funny little creatures with whiskers are welcome!

Apart from holding ecumenical human-rodent Masses, using specially blessed cheese, it is not clear what else is planned for the Year of Bubonic Inter-Species Reconciliation. Will Paul Inwood, the Pope's Official Composer, be asked to provide a suitable anthem, possibly "Alleluia Squeak-Squeak"? How will Robert Mickens, he who referred to Pope Benedict XVI as "the rat", react now that we are asked to love the little creatures? Watch this space for further details.

Ecumenical dialogue with a rat, or possibly a Siberian hamster.

A guest post from Robert Mickens

Since I have just been suspended from my prestigious position as the Tablet's Rome correspondent, I am very grateful to my friend Eccles for allowing me to explain the circumstances on his lovely blog.

Formerly @robinrome, now @robinthedoghouse

As you will probably have read in numerous places, starting, I think with my pal Damian Thompson's blog, I got into trouble for referring to Pope Benedict XVI as "the Rat" and speculating about his death.

Mere friendly banter!

Benedict and I are old friends: when I saw him in Rome (this happens less frequently now, since he's stopped being God's Rome correspondent) I would say "Ooh look! It's the Rat!" and he would reply "Wer ist dieser Schweinehundheretischentabletistikendummkopf?" My German is nearly as bad as my Latin, but I gather that this is a term of endearment.

Benedict (Rat) also refers to me as "Mickens Mouse".

You may recall that Benedict used to tweet as @pontifex, and I remember the time he gave me a special mention:

@pontifex Dearly beloved, Laetare Sunday is a day on which we remember the words of Aquinas. P.S. Why isn't Mickens Mouse dead yet?

Anyway, you'll want to know what happened last week. Pope Francis - we at the Tablet haven't yet thought up an insulting nickname for him, as it's still possible that he may be on our side - made the appointment of Cardinal Methuselah, aged 113. Methuselah is a sprightly person for his age: he bungee jumps regularly, boxed 15 rounds with Guido Marini only last week, and plays prop forward for the Italian Rugby team.

Cardinal Methuselah: new blood in the Vatican.

Anyway, in a spirit of merry banter I joined my friend Chris Grady (who enjoys trolling) in speculating that Cardinal Methuselah would outlive Benedict. I didn't know what trouble I was getting myself into!

There came a telephone call from Catherine Popehater, the redoubtable editor of the Tablet. "You fool, Bobbie!" she said. "It is the Tablet's policy to attack Pope Benedict (and indeed all earlier popes) by subtle means, not outright insults. Now you've given the whole game away!"

I could see her point. If the Tablet falls from grace, what will be next? Will people suspect that ACTA is run by the KGB? Will there be whispers about whether Tina Beattie is really to be taken seriously when she claims to be a Catholic?

The answer: prayer and reflection.

So I have decided to go for a period of prayer and reflection, as recommended by nine out of ten bishops to bloggers who point out where the bodies are buried. It's going to be a tough day or two, but I'll be back soon - maybe even in time for the Rat's funeral (oops!)

Tobit

Today we have a new recruit to the Eccles Bible Class, namely Graham Norton, a TV "celebrity", who described Catholics defending traditional marriage as "rats trapped in the corner of a barn". In order to help the poor man learn some manners, it was decided that he should come along to this month's lesson, which covers the book of Tobit. Hello, Graham!

Tobit (also called Tebbit).

Now, Graham, we don't have any rats for you in the book of Tobit, although there is a fish that attempts to devour the foot of Tobit's son, Tobias. Some good comes of this, as after overcoming the fish, Tobias is told: If thou put a little piece of its heart upon coals, the smoke thereof driveth away all kind of devils, either from man or from woman, so that they come no more to them. We'll try that one on you later, Graham!

Tobias (also called Toby).

Still, let's start at the beginning. It's a bit of a tangled story, as both T senior and T junior are referred to as Tobias. To avoid confusion, we'll call them Tebbit and Toby (or young Toby). Now they are both righteous chaps, living in exile in the Telegraph blogs Nineveh. Two problems are dealt with in this book:

1. Tebbit goes to sleep under a swallow's nest, gets hot dung in his eyes, and goes blind. I suppose the modern equivalent is watching Graham Norton on television. Only joking, Graham!

2. In faraway Rages, a city of the Medes, a lady called Sara has got problems with demons. Indeed, her seven husbands have been killed by Asmodeus "at their first going in unto her". Don't snigger at the back, there, Fry.

Asmodeus, the demon of lust (from his Facebook page).

So off goes Toby ("On your bike!" says his father, in some translations), and he meets the fish. Fortunately, he is under the protection of the angel Raphael, which means that he is going to win through in the end. He marries Sara, his kinswoman, and drives away the demon by burning the fish's liver in his bedroom. Of course, the bedroom smells of burnt fish for a long time afterwards, but this is a small price to pay for married bliss. Raphael binds the devil, and we hear no more of him. Do spare a thought for Raguel, Sarah's father, who digs a grave for Toby only to find that it isn't needed.

Toby goes back to see Tebbit, and uses the fish's gall to cure his father's blindness. Many years later, Tebbit dies, and Toby leaves Nineveh - which is doomed, as we'll see later when we reach Jonah - to return to the land of the Medes.

Toby and the fish.

Now, this is a great book of fish recipes, but that's not really the point. One of the themes - sorry, Graham, it really isn't your day - is marriage. And when the third night is past, thou shalt take the virgin with the fear of the Lord, moved rather for love of children than for lust, ... that sort of thing. Chapter 4, old Tebbit's advice to young Toby, is also hot on charity, wisdom, avoiding pride, praying, voting Conservative, etc.

Ah, Dawkins, I see your hand is up. I think I know what you're going to say: "Fish gall doesn't cure blindness, there are no such things as demons, or angels. Giving alms isn't going to benefit you personally. There's nothing wrong with a bit of lust." Shall we make it easy for you, as you're a beginner? Look at some of the instructive moral teaching, don't worry too much about the supernatural elements for now - I know they give you a headache - and leave it at that. Oh, and here's your guardian angel to escort you home.

John Cornwell? Doesn't he write rubbish books about popes called Pius?