Let us pray for the new father confessors

A LOT of the duties of good, old fashioned priests have been undertaken, so to speak, by more earthly curators of souls. Like filling stations.

Old Luther (who knew a thing or two about putting a tiger in your tank) would turn in his grave if he knew that you can now buy your indulgences direct from Emo or Statoil, with Mass cards now two-a-penny and pre-signed by some absentee prelate in Nigeria or Liberia. It’s the new globalisation of spiritual commerce between the living and the dead.

And it spares you having actually to say a prayer for the poor souls in purgatory. Isn’t it the least we can do to show we care?