Lumen Fidei - what will it contain?

Excitement is mounting as the encyclical Lumen Fidei, jointly authored by popes Benedict XVI and Francis, is due to hit the bookstalls on Friday 5th July.

The two popes (in traditional white vestments) celebrate the completion of their work.

We asked some of our regular readers what they expected to see in this document, which is sure to become a best-seller.

Professor Tina Beattie, Roehampton. Clearly a new broom has entered the Vatican, which will sweep away all the cobwebs of traditionalism and bring us to the pure Catholicism as invented by the Vatican II Council. Expect a more relaxed attitude to same-sex marriage, abortion, and divorce, and perhaps a few sentences likening the Mass to an act of homosexual intercourse! From now on nobody is going to stop me from lecturing, where and when I wish! I did it MY way...

Tina, you SHALL go to the ball!

Archbishop Piero Marini, liturgical expert. Ha ha ha, at last I'll have my revenge on Benedict! He's had his encyclical totally rewritten by Pope Francis the Wonderful. From now on there'll be no more Latin, in fact no more prayers at all. We're gonna dance, dance, dance! By the way, Holy Father, just in case you're looking for a new Prefect of the Congregation for Divine Worship, perhaps it's time for one who has a fondness for pagan rites? Just a thought...

Lord of the Prance.

Damian Thompson, experienced Vatican-watcher.What many fans of Pope Francis have been waiting to see is a definitive statement on the liturgical role of custard. It seems likely that this is the document that we have been waiting for, at least as an interim statement until a full Custard Council can be convened. But my spies tell me that, whereas Pope Benedict prefers the "Extraordinary Form" of custard made with real eggs, his successor is more of an "Ordinary Form" man, and prefers it out of a tin. We shall see.

A shock for traditionalists.

Novus Ordo Cricket

With apologies to non-Cricketians who may worship the ball that is base, or even subscribe to one of the many cults of the ball called foot.

Following the 1960s Vatican II reforms, the Cricketic Church introduced a Novus Ordo form of its service, which upset many traditionalist worshippers.

Novus Ordo cricket. Note the unusual liturgical vestments.

In the Tridentine form of the service (named after the Council of Trent Bridge), worship was often not deemed to be completed until a "testing" period of 5 days of prayer (or Quinquena) had elapsed.

Father Shepherd knew the correct liturgical gestures.

Typically, the prayers varied over the five days, perhaps along the following lines:

Day 1: Australia batting well. A prayer that the Lord may aid 
his servants Anderson, Swann, and the other bowlers. 
Day 2: Australia declares: Ite. Inningus est, and England bats.
A prayer that the Lord may sustain Cook, Trott, and the
other batsmen.
Day 3: England batting collapses (this is traditional). Readings 
from the book of Job.
Day 4: Australia bats again. A prayer for rain.
Day 5: England, set 947 to win, manage 111 all out. A requiem 
mass for English cricket, including the burning of bails. Ashes 
to ashes...

The veneration of relics is an important part of the Tridentine game.

However, in the Novus Ordo service, some of the dignity and reverence shown in the Tridentine form simply disappeared. The wise theological advice, dig thou in, lad, just stay there for a few days, don't try to score any runs,found in the Gospel of St Geoffrey of Boycott, was replaced by an undignified scramble, as the whole service was rushed through in a matter of hours.

Liturgical dancing - what next?

Still there are hopeful signs for the future, as the Tridentine form of the game is still permitted, and a new generation of worshippers is favouring it. Curiously, some of the Latin terminology used in the older form of the game persists, and even the Novus Ordo service includes phrases such as Howzat? (Latin for "Hath he not transgressed?")

The Lord's temple - pavilioned in splendour and girded with praise.

Finally, whether or not they prefer the Ordinary Form or the Extraordinary Form of the game, Cricketics everywhere will treasure the words of Ezekiel 41:24:And in the two doors on both sides were two little doors, which were folded within each other: for there were two wickets on both sides of the doors.

St Geoffrey of Boycott smites the ungodly.

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!

Liturgical dancing

Doing the can-can in Liverpool Cathedral.

Liturgical dance is a vital component of modern worship - so much more exciting than traddy things like the Gloria or Credo, and much more interesting than the Bishop's Letter (do we really care what he got for Christmas?) Accordingly, we are pleased to publish an excerpt from the new Liverpool Missal, Lord have Mersey!

PRIEST: You put your left leg in.
PEOPLE: You put your left leg out.
PRIEST: In out, in out.
PEOPLE: Shake it all about.
PRIEST: You do the hokey-cokey and you turn around.
PEOPLE: That's what it's all about.

PRIEST: It is indeed what it is all about, and it is 
our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to
do the hokey-cokey and to turn around...

It is the priest's job to lead the liturgical dancing, as shown here.

The most recent liturgical dance in Liverpool Cathedral was held to celebrate the arrival of the relics of St John Bosco (that name seems strangely familiar). The saint was greeted by that lovely hymn based on Ezekiel 37, to which the whole congregation was invited to dance:

Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones.
Now hear de word of de Lord.

♫ Your foot-bone's connected to your leg-bone... ♫

Liturgical dancing is here to stay. It has the great advantage that it concentrates the worshippers' minds, not on God, not on the meaning of the Mass, but on everyday things like being "cool" and having "rhythm." Also, it can take place at any point in the service.

No Mass is complete without some people waving cardboard boxes above their heads.

Of course the Anglicans have been doing liturgical dances for years. Here, Archbishop Sentamu of York demonstrates some of the movements to a sceptical Rowan Williams.

♫ Underneath the spreading chestnut tree... ♫

The full video of "Lord have Mersey" is here.