A Burning Issue

Life would certainly be boring if human beings and their institutions were wise and sensible. If that were the case, I wouldn't bother writing my blog - after all, I've better things to do - like catching mice and birds, and depositing fur-balls and post-alimentary offerings on Beeby See's carpet. But that would be too mind-numbingly pedestrian for this kitty. I'll leave the mundane cat activities to my prosaic cat colleagues. They have nothing better to think about.

Here's one piece of news that's reasonably fresh and steaming: a Northumbrian National Faction member has been arrested by the Costumed Thugs for committing an execrable offence. Sit down, close your eyes and take in a deep breath, children... he burned a copy of the Vikings' sacred book - the Eddas - in the privacy of his own home. The consequent  fallout has been considerable, and the governmental hordes have been foaming at the mouth in hysteria. The soothsayers have - as usual - squealed like demented pigs.

Now, as far as this cat is concerned, he doesn't give a gnat's whisker about the Eddas; they may be sacred to the Vikings, but they're not sacred to me. Anyway - what's special about a book? Granted, it takes some considerable time to write one out, and it's an expensive exercise; I'm sure sometime in the future, they'll devise a way of producing them quickly and cheaply. But a book's a book - covers, binding, pages and writing. It's nothing magical. Now, I'm aware that there are certain Christians who have an undue reverence for the Bible (as if it were more significant than the One who inspired it), but they don't actually worship it: that would be a desecration of the Second Commandment. But the Vikings thus revere their Eddas; according to their strange creed and theology they believe that they were dictated directly by the god Odin to somebody or other. And the Witangemot, their hangers-on and the legions of no-hopers who help to prop up this shabby wasteland of a Kingdom have - in their infinite wisdom - decided to favour the Vikings above other religious groups. So the desecration of an abbey or a church would be deeply upsetting to the many Christians of the realm, but should that happen, they'd simply be expected to put up with the injustice, turn the other cheek and manfully carry on.

The Vikings, however, aren't likely to take such iniquities lying down. They would proclaim a sacred fast, chew sacred mushrooms and go on the rampage, sacking, butchering innocent bystanders and pillaging Anglo-Saxon settlements. The upholding of Odin's honour is their justification for such unruly and brutal activities. It appears to me that Odin is pretty well powerless to defend himself, so he's dependent on his warrior followers to fight his own battles for him... bless.

Anyway. The main issue is that some bright spark decided to burn a copy of the Eddas in the privacy of his own home. Big deal: every Anglo-Saxon's home is his sacred and inviolable castle; he is king of the realm of his own hearth. Why shouldn't he burn whatever he likes? If he wants to burn a book, that's up to him - if, that is, he bought it or obtained it by other legitimate means. My master Caedmon burns copies of his poems that he's dissatisfied with; nobody cares about that.

But there's a nagging question. Why was this Northumbrian National Faction member arrested? Were members of the Costumed Thugs peeping into his doorway to make sure he wasn't burning something forbidden? I struggle to imagine that this were the case. Nobody pops their head through Caedmon's doorway to check on the kindling.

Did someone in his household see what he was doing and report it to the Costumed Thugs? Possible - but family loyalties are very tight here in Northumbria. So I'll rule that out as a valid reason. So, that leaves me with one remaining theory. The Northumbrian National Faction member announced beforehand that he was going to wind up the Vikings - and the knuckle-dragging authorities - by burning a copy of the Eddas. He was making a public statement. What other possible reason could there have been for his arrest? A show trial in the Moot is likely to follow with Beeby See and Guardy-Ann licking their slavering chops.

He made a statement. And the statement he made to the world is this: "I am terminally stupid."

Duhhhh....

Whiting Writing Wrong

Sometimes - in my weaker moments - I wonder whether the wheels of human imbecility will ever stop turning; from time to time I have to be reminded by Caedmon or one of the monks at the Streonaeshalch Abbey that the effects of the Fall - including death, disease, decay, decadence, hubris, fleas, flatulence, flies, fevers and monumental stupidity - will one day cease on the Day when the Almighty regenerates all things. As far as I'm concerned, as a cat, that day can't come soon enough. It's not our jolly fault that Adam trespassed the Divine Injunction and consequently opened the Pandora's Box of evil and imbecility upon the world. We critters just have to put up with it - and that's what we do.

But - until such a time, I have to hear things like this piece of news I came by today: an atheist philosopher called Hazy Dizzy Whiting has decided to write an atheist's Bible. Just in case you've missed this in your speed-reading haste, sit down slowly and take this in. I repeat - an atheist has decided to write an atheist's Bible. Take a swig of something strong, people - you read it correctly.

My human master Caedmon refers to atheists as irrational theologians, and I'm inclined to agree with him; they vehemently deny that the Almighty exists. In fact, they're so obsessed with this damn-fool idea that they simply aren't content to let the matter rest there; they're also intent on foisting their religion on those who don't happen to share their wild-eyed enthusiasm for a philosophy of pointless absurdity and hopelessness. That's certainly irrational. Now, I may be a dumb animal, but it occurs to me that if atheism were self-evident, they wouldn't need to continually attempt to prove it to a skeptical majority. Sooner or later, the reasonableness of it would be obvious to to all, and its godless premise would bed itself down in human consciousness. But it doesn't. And it won't, because it can't. Before we even begin to consider atheism, there's already a 'Theos' to prefix the letter 'A' with. What are the first four words of Sacred Writ? In the beginning, God. Bereshith Elohim. In principia Deus. En arche epoiesen ho Theos.

And for goodness' sake - why has Hazy Dizzy Whiting found it necessary to write an alternative Bible? What's all that about? Is he extracting the smelly yellow waste? Is it really necessary to ape Jannes and Jambres in Pharaoh's court and do a monkey's imitation of the real thing? Does the whiff of sulphur reach my nostrils?

And what does this piece of fantasy fiction have to say? For a distillation of its metaphysical content, do we read:

In the Beginning, Hazy Dizzy Whiting Redefined the Mysteries Of Life..
Eat, Drink and Be Merry - for Tomorrow You Die.
If You're Near the End of the Road, Tough Luck, Pal.
Prepare For Nothing: Life is a Sick Joke...?

What are his ethical teachings? Are they such as:

Be a Good Boy.
Share the Magic Mushrooms - don't keep them all for Yourself.
Be Nice to Animals and Other People?
Don't Pull Wings Off Butterflies...?

I hope he's written some nice stories to replace the accounts of Israel and the Early Church. Can you imagine it being read at the bedside of a dying man or woman? Or being used to comfort a bereaved person? Hmmm..

It sounds to me like a celebration of window-licking barminess. I predict that it will become a best seller, make Hazy Dizzy Whiting a few groats, and it will collect dust on bookshelves, unloved, forgotten and unread. I don't think Caedmon will buy it. Unless it sells cheaper than firewood...

Fostering Lost To Posturing

...If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do? (Psalm 11:3)

As much as it grieves me to have to do so, I have to make a confession: I'm getting world-weary and fed up. I attribute my existential ennui to my excessive and morbid interest in the realms of human institutions and politics; there seems to be a flow of drivel coming from the Witangemot, its representatives and the soothsayers - and it's an unrelenting and toxic mixture of disinformation, dissimulation, hypocrisy and cant, with more than a fair share of random goalpost relocation. It's small wonder that humans are so apathetic about such things - unless, of course they become politicians themselves; when that happens, all sort of exciting vistas open up and the world suddenly takes on an unreal glow...

Let me give you a recent example of the cretinous world of human life in this lovely country of Northumbria. Some time ago a godly couple decided that they would like to extend their Christian charity and foster a foundling. (In our morally lax day and age, it's commonplace for loose-living young women to anonymously dump their newlyborn spawn onto the doorsteps of the Abbey or some church and expect some charitable soul to take the tiny mite in and give it a sound upbringing - if the poor bairn doesn't die first.) Since the time when the malevolent Northumbrian State was first involved, the whole process has been gradually and steadily politicised - in keeping with their idiotic social agendas. Because of this, the couple in question had been legally denied the right to foster the child they'd kindly taken to their home and hearts. Why? - Simply because they refused to compromise their Christian beliefs and principles and teach the child that it's perfectly natural and acceptable to lie, cheat, say that white is black, and wrong is right - and to pull wings off butterflies. (There are other issues that I won't go into - this is a family show...)

In other words, the Northumbrian State - ruled by our noble King Alhfrith and administered by the Witangemot government (headed up by Caedmeron - the Supreme Allied Commander-In-Chief and Chief Cock and Bluebottlewasher of the Tree/Liberationist Alliance factions) hates the values from the teachings of the Bible and the Holy Catholic Church and prefers to see generations of children grow up to be as twisted as he and his friends are. They must hate the Almighty as well. That's perilous ground to be on. You don't mess with Divinity - unless you don't give a rat's ass for your eternal soul...

Oh - and by the way - the child at the heart of this controversy is only an infant...

Caedmon is deeply unhappy about this, and so are the monks. So is the Abbess Hilda - she's furious: I could hear the explosion from a mile away. I reckon that the Bishop of Jarrow is going to get his ear bent imminently...

As for me, I'd much rather it were Caedmeron at the receiving end of the Abbess' verbal lashings. I'd love to help: I have a feline friend called Leo who would love to impart the fear of the Almighty into these secularising fools...

The King's Speech

The other day, Feaxede the fox excitedly loped towards me with something in his mouth. Could I possibly tell him what it was? I took a look at the object; it was immediately apparent that it was a scroll of vellum, which is a thin skin of hide used for manuscripts, books and documents. I asked him where he'd found it, and he told me that it was in the dump, where he does most of his researches. He asked me if I could read it. Since I was taught to read by Caedmon as part of my Christian education, I took a look at the document. It was rather dirty and sodden, but the writing was clear enough for me to discern that it was a transcript of King Alhfrith's Christmas message; it had probably been discarded by Beeby See - or one of her minions - following the Christmas season. Usually the soothsayers read out to the local populace the latest communication from the Great and the Good – and even our noble King. Since I was very tired this Christmas, I hadn't bothered to go to listen to the latest proclamation, so the content was new to me.

I read through it while Feaxede eagerly listened. I can't remember the full content verbatim, but as I recall, the speech started off with the King addressing his loyal subjects and talking about the Bible. It would appear that this year is an anniversary of the translation of the Bible from the Latin Vulgate into the Anglo-Saxon tongue. The monks at the Abbey still read the Latin version, so this was news to my ears. The King went on to say how the Bible brought people together. It would appear that the King then got some Viking, Bulgar and Frankish children to read a passage to him from the Bible, so one of them started with the words:

On frymðe wæs Word, and þæt Word wæs mid Gode, and God wæs þæt Word. Þæt wæs on fruman mid Gode. Ealle þing wæron geworhte ðurh hyne; and nan þing næs geworht butan him. Þæt wæs lif þe on him geworht wæs; and þæt lif wæs manna leoht. And þæt leoht lyht on ðystrum; and þystro þæt ne genamon.

Feaxede was puzzled. Why didn't the King read the passage himself? And why wasn't it read by Anglo-Saxon children? I explained that the old boy can't read; he always gets others to read to him. He uses his thumb to sign important documents and charters whenever a signature is needed. And in these days of diversity, it's important to exclude Anglo-Saxons, since they are mere incidentals in the unfolding political Plan of the Holy Roman Empire (which is neither holy, Roman, nor an empire).

When I read the next portion of the speech, I became as puzzled as Feaxede had been: the King then went on to talk about football, and how it – like the Bible - also brought people together. I can't understand how the Bible is supposed to bring people together in a day when the country is being systematically de-Christianised, and where signs of our Anglo-Saxon Christian heritage are being mocked or stealthily removed in favour of the Vikings and their Eddas. As I understand it, the Master in the Gospel said that He came to bring a sword rather than peace (by which He refers to division rather than unity).

And how on earth does football bring people together? Some people come together to watch Madcaster United and their star striker Wade Rune, but only to watch the game and to bellow unceremoniously when something happens on the pitch. When the game is over, they either go home or get drunk in the meadhouses, where I've heard the most acrimonious arguments between football supporters. Blood has been spilt. I also know that whenever Milwall supporters visit, the costumed thugs have to assiduously brain them with big sticks to keep them in check, and to prevent further outbreaks of violence.

So, what was the King waffling about? I'm blowed if I know. Mead and ale certainly bring people together; dances and entertainments do the same. Work – out of necessity - brings people together, whether they like it or not. Poverty and adversity also unite. But as I see it, the Anglo-Saxon Bible and football are unlikely companions in the task of uniting people.

Perhaps I'm missing something. Or maybe the King is losing his marbles. I suggested that Feaxede that he take the document back to the dump, where it could carry on doing what it had been communicating – rot.

Holy Writ and All That

There seems to be a climate of interest in alternative Gospels. This has been taken up by the worthies Caeptain Ranty and Brother Gildas The Monk (on the Blessed St. Anna Raccoon's site). I've thrown in my two groats' worth for good measure.

As a cat, I'm not a trained theologian - although Caedmon has catechised me thoroughly and given me a pretty good all-round picture of Church History. I do have a basic understanding of Greek, which helps me to get under the skin of the translated New Testament scripture. The monks at the Abbey have been most helpful - especially Brother Wenham.

So - what about these other gospels that people have been talking so excitedly about recently? There are various writings which have been discovered since New Testament times. Some were pastoral letters (like the 'Shepherd of Hermas', the letter of Clement to the Corinthians and of Irenaeus to the Ephesians); these were written to serve a particular purpose. They were never intended to supplement Scripture - although they contain themes that are reflective of New Testament teaching. There were also many cults around that time which were influenced by the prevalent Greek religious and philosophical culture, along with the Babylonian mystery religions. These are referred to as the Gnostics. They wrote many of the manuscripts which are causing so much excitement at the moment; the substance of their writings at times contradicts the scriptural record and teachings. They were not embraced by the early church Fathers because they weren't regarded as genuine. I don't suppose that St. Thomas would have known anything about the gospel attributed to him!

There's a recognised spiritual principle borne out in history: where the genuine testimony appears, a counterfeit one also arrives to challenge it. For example, when Moses used the rod to authenticate to Pharaoh his God-given credentials and authority, Pharaoh's court mystics used another rod to replicate the miracles that had just been demonstrated. Where the testimony of the Son of God appears, a false testimony also arrives on the scene - in fact, many of them. And their purpose is to cause confusion and divert attention away from the genuine message. This happens because genuine Christianity is involved in a spiritual conflict which spills over into the human realm; there are spiritual forces at play. This is what the Apostle John refers to in one of his letters when he speaks of the many antichrists that have gone out into the world. (Anti in Greek means 'in place of' - or substitute.)

The Book of Enoch is quoted in scripture in the Letter of Jude, but St. Paul (in Acts 17) also quotes from the Greek poet Epimenedes. As far as I know, no one has suggested that his writings should also be incorporated into Scripture..!


Contrary to some fantastic ideas in circulation, the Church hasn't been covering up some esoteric secrets - although that idea tickles the fancy of some. Must go. There are mice to torment and catch!