Smasher Lagru

Is it just me or is John Terry a big wuss (apparently that is how you spell it).  Twenty minutes after missing his penalty and losing the European Cup for Chelsea he was still crying, still being comforted by the ball boys and the lady who washes the towels.  His manager looked embarrassed by it all.

You know the way sports commentators routinely over-use the words "brave" and "courageous" as if playing football was rescuing someone from a burning building or attacking Japs in an entrenched position.  Well we had to listen to them go on about "you can see what this means to him".

Even Donal McKeown, when he missed his open net and failed to become bishop of Down and Connor had enough dignity (I know, I know) to pretend to be thrilled and to kickstart his campaign for Clogher.  John Terry should have been rallying his team, lifting their heads up, applauding their fans and collecting their losers medals with some dignity.  He's supposed to be the club captain.  I bet when Donal is bringing up the gifts or doing the collection or minding the cars in the car park on 29th June he will at least make it look like it's something he always wanted his whole life to do.

So there we have it - Chelsea FC - Premier league runners up, Champions League runners up, Carling Cup runners up.  What a good season it was after all (and that's without mentioning Rangers losing the EUFA Cup final and probably the league too).

Doctors at disGrace Memorial Hospital have confirmed that Senator Edward Kennedy (76 stone) is utterly malignant.  “And he’s already broken two trolleys and drank all the ethanol” said a hospital mole.

"I intend to do everything in my power to fight this, to remove this bloated, cancerous growth from me" said his brain tumour when asked to comment.

 

“When did you first notice there was something wrong with the Senator, the conscience of the Democratic Party?”

 

“When he left Mary Jo Kopechne, the young blonde campaign worker, behind to die in the waters underneath the Edgartown Bridge in July 1969, after a night of drinking and partying.   When Kennedy swam to safety and then tried to get his cousin Joe Garghan to say he was behind the wheel I knew he was a brain I didn’t want to be in.  Miss Kopechne, trapped inside Kennedy's Oldsmobile, gasped for air until she finally died, while my host rushed back to his compound to formulate the best alibi he could think of.”

 

“And it started then?”

 

“Well, perhaps even earlier.  You know Kennedy was thrown out of Harvard 15 years earlier, for paying a fellow student to take his Spanish final.   And then the US Army denied him a commission because he cheated on tests.”

 

“And what about abortion?”

 

“Well, it’s too late for that now – there’s no bucket big enough for his body parts.”

Gene Robinson and his maid of honour

For those who don't routinely read the Church of Ireland Gazette you have been missing a great brouhaha over the Maundy Thursday nonsense in the Protestant Cathedral in Armagh.  But that was weeks ago you say.  Yes, but the letters pages have been alive with venom over the Protestant Archbishop chosing to wear a cope and mitre and looking like a papist.  All good fun - you can check it out at http://gazette.ireland.anglican.org/2008/090508/letters090508.htm#1 but, be warned, the correspondence is now closed.  How will we cope?  Will anyone mourne?

It really was a ridiculous service and highlighted for me how untrue it is when people say Anglicans or the Brits do liturgy well.  Far too many men with sticks leading people in all directions.  And the yeomen carrying trays on their heads.  Beyond parady.  If the queen of England was remotely sincere she would get the towel out and wash some feet.  Little bags of silver suggests Judas rather than Jesus.


Collectors in St Peter's try out their new uniforms but haven't quite mastered
holding the baskets so people can actually donate.

I was rather proud of the fact that Cardinal Brady had the good grace to look completely uncomfortable when doing a reading.  I know he often looks like that but at least this time it suited the occasion.

Many of the recipients of the money were of course Catholics, including nuns, and I believe, the sister of the bishop of Dromore.  Speaking of Dromore - one hears the mother of one of its most outstanding clerics also received the dole, and rumour has it it subsequently ended up on E-bay.  Not sure if it's true but I've heard no denial.

Enda Mc Donagh, Canon of St Patrick's Cathedral (Protestant)

So the funeral went ahead as planned.  I was wondering which of the Catholic great and good would attend.  Surely
Brian D'Arcy would step forward.  Or perhaps the, I was going to say "ubiquitous" but that doesn't begin to describe him, Aidan Troy would squeeze himself in.

Actually Troy, the smoothest of the smooth media operators, seems to have sullied himself a little with his "wogs begin at Alliance Avenue" rant against foreign beggars.  The fact that he's right, of course, only makes it worse.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, the Catholic funeral of atheist Nuala O Faolain.  The parish priest was there as expected and also Tom Stack, who seems to have been a closet liberal all those years he was undermining the church by his underperformance as media spokesman.  And of course, the darling of the left-overs, Enda McDonagh, still reaching out to people.

Of course there was a eulogy - what would a funeral in Dublin be without a eulogy.  And all sorts of references to her "tremendous bravery".  Call me old fashioned, now but where was the bravery?  Months spent in chemo because your kids demand it, even if you don't is brave.  Dragging a policeman from a burning car is brave.  What Nuala said when she heard she was dying was "I don't want more time. As soon as It heard I was going to die, the goodness went from life". 

May she rest in peace.

Today I celebrated the solemnities of SS. Nereus and Achilleus and a bit of St Pancras, not because I have particular devotion to these early Christian martyrs, but because I came out of the presbytery house without changing over to volume three of the breviary.  And then you have to get your slide rule out to figure out which week in the psalter you're supposed to be on - so I opted for Sunday Week One which I can almost recite from memory and these very important saints. 

And actually Nereus and Achilleus are great saints, soldiers who placed God before duty.  I was thinking of them when reading about the situation in Burma - there's an army that needs to turn its back on the generals.

As for Pancras, he was only 14 when martyred.  St Augustine of Canterbury dedicated his first church to Pancras and his relics were presented as a gift to the king of Northumberland. 

So maybe forgetting to change volumes was one of those Godincidences.

Fr Dan Handler, the local curate, tells me, for some reason he doesn't fully understand, that volume three has always been his favourite volume of the Office.

I am renowned for my empathy and can feel things, even from the touch of a book so I can tell him why - It's the one you use when you're on your holidays, the one least scarred by memories of Maynooth or Rome or Wexford or the Wing.  It's the one you read on the beach, or walking in the hills, or sitting in a cafe in Paris or Madrid, or doing your hour in a dark church in Italy or a bright church in America.

Someone in your diocese, in a very public manner, announces they are dying. 

They are asked "Do you believe in an afterlife?

They reply "No, I do not."

They are asked "Do you believe in God?"

They answer "I don't know what's going on and I still don't know what's going on, but I can't be consoled by mention of God. I can't.  And though I respect and adore the art that arises from the love of God and though nearly everybody I love and respect themselves believe in God, it is meaningless to me, really meaningless."

That seems very clear cut, doesn't it - at best agnostic or nihilist - so they'll not be getting buried in a Catholic Church?

The removal will take place tomorrow to the Church of the Visitation, Fairview arriving at 5.30 o'clock.  Ms O'Faolain's funeral will be held the following day after midday mass to Glasnevin Crematorium.

Great excitement and a lot of pride this week at Brian Cowan becoming Taoiseach.  I've been surprised at how many blue shirts have been pleased enough to put out signs and flags.  The socialist types, however, remain nasty and bothered. Pity about them.

Of course you know Brian was a good footballer and hurler in his day.  Didn't quite make the seniors but came close.  Maybe this'll give us a boost before the season gets under way.

Had an awkward moment yesterday when Hermione asked me what a biffo was.  I told her it was an old fashioned term of respect sometimes used of teachers etc.

Subito, subito, subito!  The crowds gathered in their dozens outside the great mother church of St Peter, chanting “Subito, subito, monsignore subito!”  There was a flicker of movement behind the triple glazed windows in the presbytery as the administrator of Belfast Cathedral looked out.  He had called to them and the faithful had come.  The great cry went up and echoed across the land until the person preparing the Order of Malta Lourdes Pilgrimage Handbook decided to pre-empt the decision of the Holy Father and identify the administrator as “Monsignor”.

 

Copies of the book available for inspection.

 

Meanwhile in the chapel of Trinity College , Dublin , the rather odd chaplain, who likes to interject odd bits of Latin into the Mass, while changing words in the consecration like “all” into “all women and men” creates his own little litany, including Blessed John Henry Newman – perhaps there was a beatification ceremony I missed.