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.

Eccles apologises

Yesterday, I quoted a tweet from Fr James Martin, SJ, which claimed that the Blessed Virgin Mary was a man (I have since learned that the logic behind this tweet might not be as straightforward as I thought - my mistake, I later deleted the tweet). A few days ago I also retweeted an article about Enda Kenny's forthcoming "cannibalism" referendum in Ireland: this did not express my own views, but I thought I would draw attention to it, as a subject for discussion. I was shocked to see that I instantly got online abuse and was told that "my views" would be placed on a blog, so that people could discuss them.

Eccles talks to a lawyer.

Later, I was shocked to see that I had been personally insulted. A friend of mine who has spent a lot of time in court without ever being convicted - he is a solicitor - saw the blog and said, "Father Eccles, you could really cash in here!" It seemed like the appropriate action for a priest in good standing to take, for after all, does the Bible not tell us to "Sue the Lord thy God for all acts of God, and sue thy neighbour if he offend thee"?

Still, I am a poor priest, and not rich enough to sue anyone. Besides, I'm not sure that expressions such as "silly", "toad" and "fish-face" are really actionable. My friend says that "silly fish-faced toad" might be worth a sum in the region of 20p, but I am not so sure.

This is not Eccles.

Worse than that, I found my actions being discussed on the entire blogosphere, as unspeakable people rushed to the defence of the wicked shameless criminal - a self-confessed mother of three. Six people turned up at Mass wearing "We like mothers" tee-shirts, I have been told to "put a sock in it" and I have been accused of being possessed by the spirit of Enda Kenny. Also - horror of horrors - e-mails have been sent to my bishop. And you know how bishops get excited if someone they've never heard of tells them that they have had a Twitter squabble with one of their priests!

My bishop reacts to an e-mail.

Worst of all, a sanctimonious deacon wrote a blog post saying that he didn't agree with me, or anyone else, because he was a much better person than any of us. Still, he would say a prayer, asking that we would all become as virtuous as he was.

Anyway, stuff this for a lark. I apologise to the entire universe for whatever it is I never did.

Kind Regards,
Rev. Eccles.

Bad hymns 19

Today the judges of the Eccles Bad Hymn Award are looking at another unusual hymn. This one is apparently recommended for use on the occasion of the death of a public figure - at least, by nine out of ten munchkins, the BBC, and also George "Respect" Galloway. It is Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead, and we are honoured to have the author, Edgar Yipsel Harburg, with us to discuss it.

I turned George Galloway into a toad and no-one noticed.

EYH: Just call me "Yip," Eccles.

E: Yup. Now, explain this hymn to me, as it's not one I've come across - although my friend Fr Arthur, a liberal priest in good standing, uses it at funerals occasionally if he feels that the deceased did not meet his high standards. Is it a bit like Ding-Dong, merrily on high?

EYH: Well, not really. In fact it originated in The Wizard of Oz, although like My Way it is sometimes chosen for funerals. At least, if the deceased was controversial in some circles.

E: Ding-Dong! The Witch is dead. Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch! Ding-Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.

EYH: Music by Paul Inwood. Only joking... it was Harold Arlen.

E: It's too spiritual for Paul Inwood, Yip, take it from me. Now, I think I get your meaning here: we are all miserable sinners, but it is only proper to ring the passing-bell as we depart this world?

He went and told the sexton, and the sexton tolled the bell - Thomas Hood.

EYH: I hadn't thought of it that way, Eccles. You may prefer another hymn I wrote, about the promise of Heaven: Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.

Somewhere, over the rainbow...

E: Not sure where the rainbows fit into contemporary theology, but I expect that some people do sing that one at funerals. They probably also sing We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.

EYP: We're off to see the Wizard was sung at the funeral of Lloyd George, the so-called "Welsh Wizard." My father knew him.

The Welsh Wizard.

E: Well thanks, Yip, I'm still mystified about the context for this hymn: did George Galloway sing "Ding-Dong" at his mother's funeral? Will any other politicians get a state "Ding-Dong"?

EYH: Look, Eccles, can we forget this silly song?

E: How can we? Kevin Mayhew Limited want to put it in their new edition of Catholic hymns for the dangerously insane. Still, thanks for coming along, Yip. Your way home is easy - just follow the yellow brick road.

---

Previous entries for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award:

Lord of the Dance.    Shine, Jesus, shine.    Enemy of apathy.    Walk in the Light.
Kum Ba Yah.    Follow me.    God's Spirit is in my heart.    Imagine.    Alleluia Ch-ch.
It ain't necessarily so.    I, the Lord of sea and sky.    Colours of day.    The red flag.
Go, the Mass is ended.    I watch the sunrise.    Bind us together, Lord.    Our god reigns.
My way.