Liturgiae Causa

Triumph...

2012-02-13T18:00:00.000Z

A Flemish tapestry (circa 1520) depicts the triumph of Death (represented here by the three Fates of Greek myth) over Chastity, a symbol in Petrarch's work The Triumphs. First Love triumphs, then Chastity triumphs over Love, then Chastity is overcome by Death, Death by Fame, Fame by Time, and Time by Eternity.

I dreamt of it last night.

The Dying Swan, A.D 1925...

2012-02-12T14:00:00.002Z

A little something to commemorate the birthday of Anna Pavlova, who in my view was the quintessence of ballerina delicacy. Enjoy!

St Patrick in Art...

2012-02-11T17:31:00.002Z

Thanks to Mediaevalists.net for a very interesting article about the history of my patron, St Patrick, in Art. Naturally I had known hitherto of the existence of local cults outside Ireland, but wholly new to me was the fact that the Apostle to the Irish was represented in very different ways; in Ireland usually in the form of a bishop in apparelled alb, amice, with a green chasuble decked about with a green shamrock (with which he famously explained the doctrine of the Triune God), and crozier - very dignified; in France, by contrast, as shewn in the Legenda Aurea of Jacopo de Voragine, as a tonsured monk in cowls, piercing the foot of King Oengus of Cashel, as he administered the Sacrament of Baptism unto him - less dignified, perhaps, but almost reminiscent of the perception of Peregrin Took in the Tower of Guard, of the difference between Gandalf and Denethor. Denethor looked older, wiser, more like a sorcerer of great power, and yet Gandalf, he sensed by a perception other than sight, held the greater dignity, and a power which he veiled. Also of note is the author's observation of Counter Reformation standards and the imposition of strict uniformity and control over the cult of local saints. We all know how St Patrick was treated by Pius V in his revision of the Roman liturgical books.

Very worth the read, for lovers of St Patrick, the cult of local saints (even very important ones), and the history of Art and hagiography.

The fairer sex...

2012-02-09T08:00:00.000Z

It has been said that I have ''a problem with women.'' I thought it was slanderous nonsense - I think it still is, although it did get me thinking. I am quite vocal about the place of women, in Church and society. They should certainly not wear trousers, least of all in church. I still maintain that if a woman can wear trousers in public then a man can wear a gown by Givenchy or Vera Wang. Were I alive at the turn of the century (that is the last, mind you) I daresay I'd have been against universal suffrage for women (insofar as I am in any way democratic, I would have been against universal suffrage anyway). People think that for these principles I am misogynistic - a trite accusation.

But my relationship to the fairer sex has always been rather complex, notwithstanding the fact that I do not particularly care for women. I worship iconic women like Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. I cry every time I watch The Wizard of Oz! My father accused my maternal grandmother of being a bad influence in that respect, with her ''theatre lovey'' ways (and I do love and respect my grandmother, very deeply). I am not now nor have I ever been friendly with my sister. I was bullied at school by two older girls, and three teachers, all of whom, curiously, styled themselves ''Ms'' (I made a point of calling them ''Miss,'' of course). The first, one of my primary school teachers, a woman for whom I conceived a passionate and immediate loathing (which was, needless to say, mutual), was a not-very-remarkable woman who relied on text books, having no real imagination. One of them was married, but refused to use her marital name (did she really love her husband?); she was my English teacher, and I enjoyed beating her at Scrabble; the other one was a lesbian who taught PE - 'nuff said! Naturally the Head Master did nothing about the bullying because he didn't like me either, and was very friendly with the English teacher.

I can't say there were any problems when I did my A Levels and Degree - certainly my Religious Studies teacher, another unimaginative text book teacher with no real knowledge, was irksome, but at the time I thought she was just a simple-minded Modernist, not really worth thinking about. I daresay that for such reasons she is more pitiable than the rest, being trapped in a vicious cycle of cliches and contradictions. Even the Sackville-Bagginses will agree with me on that point. I simply called her a bore and stopped attending her lessons.

The world of work has been something else. I am currently being persecuted by a manager (for whom I do not in fact work) who thinks I am lazy and incompetent (I am not) because I dared to put her in her place about the way she spoke to me about four months ago. She is a bully, and I do not suffer bullies. The trouble is that whenever I complain about such things, in the past as I do so now, it is always such a big inconvenience for everyone, and I am the one who always looks worse. Is this because I am by my very nature argumentative? I seem to have always been in opposition to somebody, or something - as a Christian against the World, as a student against teacher, as a Catholic against Rome, and Primark. Maybe I too often say what I think? People look at me and think that because I am ''softly spoken'' (apparently), reserved and upright (rigorous dance practice and a pushy mother) that I am an easy target; they are mistaken, but I don't see why I should put up with it. As Marlene Dietrich said: ''What am I to do? I can't help it.''

So you tell me. Do I have a problem with women? Or have I just been grievously afflicted with them? You may wonder why I have illustrated this post with photos of iconic women, but I think it comes down more to ''wrong place, wrong time,'' than my disposition.

A Prayer for our Queen...

2012-02-06T13:11:00.001Z

O Lord, save the Queen...

2012-02-06T08:00:00.000Z

O Lord, our heavenly Father, high and mighty, King of kings, Lord of lords, the only Ruler of princes, who dost from thy throne behold all the dwellers upon earth: Most heartily we beseech thee with thy favour to behold our most gracious Sovereign Lady, Queen Elizabeth; and so replenish her with the grace of thy Holy Spirit, that she may always incline to thy will, and walk in thy way. Endue her plenteously with heavenly gifts; grant her in health and wealth long to live; strengthen her that she may vanquish and overcome all her enemies; and finally after this life may she attain everlasting joy and felicity; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

King Charles the Martyr...

2012-01-31T17:04:00.004Z

Better late than never, as the saying goes. At any rate I was at work all day yesterday and rather under the weather when I got home. Catholic England has (or had) Apostolic Succession and Monarchy at her heart; St Charles the Martyr (one of the patron saints of Liturgiae Causa - a truly ecumenical 'blog) was martyred for the preservation of these things. One only needs to look at what happened to these Isles (I don't say ''British Isles'') under the ugly despot Oliver Cromwell to see that without Monarchy, bad things happen. That isn't to say that there aren't bad Monarchs, but King John and our Sovereign Queen Elizabeth II are not the same person, are they? Monarchy is intrinsically good and Christian. Republics are not. It is no coincidence that δημοκρατία meant something like ''mob rule'' to the Greeks. Anyone who disagrees with me in this matter scarcely deserves the name Catholic.

Great Charles his double misery was this,
Unfaithful friends, ignoble enemies;
Had any heathen been this prince's foe,
He would have wept to see him injured so.
(Katherine Philips, Upon the Double Murder of King Charles, 1667).

I wonder why Rome didn't name St Charles patron of their English Ordinariate?

The Silmarils...

2012-01-29T15:18:00.002Z

A reader left a comment on this painting (by the Tolkien artist Ted Nasmith) in a now-deleted post, asking whether that Silmaril was ever recovered. No, it wasn't. According to the doomsman of the Valar Mandos, the Silmarils will not be recovered until the Last Battle, and are doomed to abide at the bottom of the Sea, in the heart of the Earth, and as a Star of the firmament until then, and their maker waits in the Halls of Mandos.

Of Winter...

2012-01-25T13:44:00.003Z

A heartwarming post from that Ent Fr Chadwick. He has made my day with these musings.

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Among the hemlocks...

2012-01-22T16:17:00.002Z

One of the most personal, evocative and certainly among the oldest moments at the heart of Tolkien's legendarium is the vision of Beren, wayworn and bereft, in the woods of Doriath when he chanced upon the Elf maid Lúthien, dancing among the hemlocks at a time of evening under moonrise. I expect that most of you know ''hemlock'' as the poisonous weed which caused the death of Socrates, but to Tolkien, whose mastery of the English language was surpassed by none in his life, the word was generic, with roots in regional English. As the Oxford English Dictionary explains, the name is ''also applied in rural use to the large Umbelliferae generally,'' that is, to any of various plants whose flowers and seeds are borne upon delicate, many-branched umbels. These are familiar plants of English woodlands, but their modern common names are less apt to Tolkien's purpose. The mention of ''Queen Anne's lace'' would seem out of place in a tale of the Elves, and for Lúthien to dance among ''cow's parsley'' would conjur an image of a rustic milkmaid, not an Elven princess. According to Christopher Tolkien, the greatest of all Tolkien scholars, Tolkien did not sympathize with the botanists' habit of applying distinct English names to more or less similar plants which popular usage made little attempt to distinguish (cf: J. Garth, Tolkien and the Great War). This appreciation of old and rural plant distinctions is seen also in the use of the terms Gladden and Nasturtian.

There are so many layers to Tolkien's legendarium. I daresay that not one of the many thousands of words went unconsidered. I wonder if this much attention was lavished upon the works of lesser authors?

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Where it be the custom...

2012-01-21T18:12:00.003Z

You would think that such photos as these would damage my credibility, being the arch-Nemesis of the lace cotta, but I have a sense of humour. All I can say is that I enjoy going to St Magnus on Sundays and feasts, and feel privileged to serve there. After all, it's a church with some history and architectural merit and most excellent people, not a hideous barn.

Old Sarum...

2012-01-21T12:52:00.003Z

I have lost all interest in religion lately, and especially that propounded to us in most 'blogs. However Fr Chadwick has started a new 'blog, dedicated to the Sarum Use and other Northern liturgical patrimony - a supreme contribution to England, and the memory of which (and practice thereof, in isolated places of orthopraxis) is a remnant of our truly Christian past. It reminds me of the relationship of the Ents to the Elves, and how they became estranged. The Elves had taught the Ents to speak far back in the deeps of time, and the Ents cannot forget it; but the two kindreds had grown far apart as the Ages of the Sun went by, and all about the lands the influence of Sauron grew, and dark things crept back into the Wild.

Historia is a magnificent lady, much like Natura, especially when she narrates to us the story of churches, laden with so much regret, showing up the various grotesqueries of human nature for us all to see, in all frankness. I think this is why Tolkien appeals to me so much - for historical reasons. Fair enough, it's all legendary, but he doesn't beat about the bush. Bad things happen, ends come, people die, many fair things that might have come to everlasting fruition perish from this world. So it is with the Church, and the churches. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it. Or as Galadriel said of the Springtime of Lothlórien, that it ''will never be seen again, save in memory.'' Perhaps the more venerable liturgical customs of England, now entirely obsolete (except in such places as Westminster Abbey, where they are watered down and mingled with such things as priestesses), are that much dearer because we know nothing else? Tolkien said once that the beauty of the Eldar was enriched by sorrow and wisdom, and even to Melkor was it said: ''And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.''

What am I trying to say, exactly? That we ought to be content with things as they are? Presently I haven't a hope left in the world. I am no longer interested in even being right, let alone doing right. Religion just fills me with wrath. Finis.

Do go over and pay a visit to Fr Chadwick's new 'blog. Actually he is desirous of articles by others who have an interest in the matter of Sarum and all that, so do let him know. I would ask also that you pray God for his health, since he is recovering from a hernia operation. Jesu mercy, Mary pray!

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Evensong and Benediction...

2012-01-16T19:23:00.003Z

I never heard of such tosh. I guess that the Papists won't be content until they have heaped so much of their claptrap onto everything the pope draws unto himself until what little ''patrimony'' is left in the Ordinariate is bent over double, weighed down, and is consequently of little intrinsic worth. Almost like the case of Gwindor, son of Guilin, a prince of the Gnomes, in the Tale of Turambar - a brief stint in Hell with the Dark Lord, and he came forth as one of the aged among Men. I mean the head of this new Ordinariate is now styled ''Monsignor,'' an Italian name unless I am quite mistaken. Do these people know the first thing about the ancestral liturgy of the Church of England? If you want dignity and tradition, why not pay a visit to Westminster Abbey at five o'clock on a typical weekday?

I was invited (naturally), but decided to perform a public service for somebody socially isolated with two atheist friends of mine instead. It was great fun loving my neighbour, I must say.

The fallen king...

2012-01-15T19:06:00.004Z

Standing there for a moment filled with dread Frodo became aware that a light was shining; he saw it glowing on Sam's face beside him. Turning towards it, he saw, beyond an arch of boughs, the road to Osgiliath running almost as straight as a stretched ribbon down, down, into the West. There, far away, beyond sad Gondor now overwhelmed in shade, the Sun was sinking, finding at last the hem of the great slow-rolling pall of cloud, and falling in an ominous fire towards the yet unsullied Sea. The brief glow fell upon a huge sitting figure, still and solemn as the great stone kings of Argonath. The years had gnawed it, and violent hands had maimed it. Its head was gone, and in its place was set in mockery a round rough-hewn stone, rudely painted by savage hands in the likeness of a grinning face with one large red eye in the midst of its forehead. Upon its knees and mighty chair, and all about the pedestal, were idle scrawls mixed with the foul symbols that the maggot-folk of Mordor used.

Suddenly, caught by the level beams, Frodo saw the old king's head: it was lying rolled away by the roadside. ''Look, Sam!'' he cried, startled into speech. ''Look! The king has got a crown again!''

The eyes were hollow and the carven beard was broken, but about the high stern forehead there was a coronal of silver and gold. A trailing plant with flowers like small white stars had bound itself across the brows as if in reverence for the fallen king, and in the crevices of his stony hair yellow stonecrop gleamed.

''They cannot conquer for ever!'' said Frodo. And then suddenly the brief glimpse was gone. The Sun dipped and vanished, and as if at the shattering of a lamp, black night fell. (J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, Book IV, Chapter VII).

The image? A restored Rood Loft from Binham Priory in Norfolk. Our Lord was expunged, painted over with verses from an English Bible. Look at the eyes, in token of pity, almost grief. It was the beginning of the end.

St Hilary on the Holy Virgin...

2012-01-14T12:15:00.005Z

My soul breaketh out for the very fervent desire: that it hath always unto thy judgements (Psalm 119:20).

''A sword will pierce the soul of blessed Mary, so that the thoughts of many hearts might be laid bare (cf. Luke 2:35). If this Virgin, made capable of conceiving God (capax illa Dei Virgo), will encounter the severity of His Judgement, who will dare to desire this Judgement?''(St Hilary of Poitiers, Tractatus super Psalmum 118, 12).

What could St Hilary mean by this? That man must be redeemed after a fashion consonant with his nature, in all respects? Clearly, but I confess myself wholly ignorant of the Fathers.

Philomythus ad Misomythum...

2012-01-14T11:52:00.003Z

I will not walk with your progressive apes,
erect and sapient. Before them gapes
the dark abyss to which their progress tends -
if by God's mercy progress ever ends,
and does not ceaselessly revolve the same
unfruitful course with changing of a name.
I will not tread your dusty path and flat,
denoting this and that by this and that,
your world immutable wherein no part
the little maker has with maker's art.
I bow not yet before the Iron Crown,
nor cast my own small golden sceptre down.

In Paradise perchance the eye may stray
from gazing upon everlasting Day
to see the day-illumined, and renew
from mirrored truth the likeness of the True.
Then looking on the Blessed Land 'twill see
that all is as it is, and yet made free:
Salvation changes not, nor yet destroys,
garden nor gardener, children nor their toys.
Evil it will not see, for evil lies
not in God's picture but in crooked eyes,
not in the source but in malicious choice,
and not in sound but in the tuneless voice.
In Paradise they look no more awry;
and though they make anew, they make no lie.
Be sure they still will make, not being dead,
and poets shall have flames upon their head,
and harps whereon their faultless fingers fall:
there each shall choose for ever from the All.
(J.R.R Tolkien to C.S Lewis, Mythopoeia).

Thought...

2012-01-12T15:34:00.002Z

''Its name was Cirith Ungol, a name of dreadful rumour. Aragorn could perhaps have told them that name and its significance; Gandalf would have warned them. But they were alone, and Aragorn was far away, and Gandalf stood amid the ruin of Isengard and strove with Saruman, delayed by treason. Yet even as he spoke his last words to Saruman, and the palantír crashed in fire upon the steps of Orthanc, his thought was ever upon Frodo and Samwise, over the long leagues his mind sought for them in hope and pity.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book IV, Chapter III).

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Snowdrops...

2012-01-11T20:10:00.003Z

There were three children, two boys and a girl. We were of widely different temperaments, and this was shown most clearly in everything we did. When my father allotted to my brother and me lots in the garden, in which we could each do exactly as we pleased, my brother commenced a furious digging, in an attempt to find the centre of the Earth. I planted snowdrops.

The Octave of the Lord's Epiphany...

2012-01-09T13:44:00.004Z

One of the more reprehensible of the 1955 reforms was the abolition of the Octave of the Epiphany. It seems strange that the Christmass Octave should be retained (not that those of the comites Christi were kept) instead of that of Epiphany; for Christmass is celebrated within the context of the Lord's manifestation to the world, not vice versa, and the Octave of the Epiphany (indeed the feast itself) was far older. Traditionally the Octave Day of the Epiphany marked the Baptism of the Lord, by which He fulfilled all righteousness. But what went through the mind of old Pius when he took it upon himself to break so venerable a tradition upon his will? Whatever the reasons, and I'm sure they fall short of truly justifying anything, I rejoice that there are pockets of orthopraxis out there who have escaped from his shadow. Truly, I mean. I have no time for those Ultramontane types who pay lip service to Tradition, and deserve the words: This people honours me with its lips; but its heart is far from me. (Is. XXIX, 13). The right celebration of Liturgy is a moral activity, and your soul is compromised if, on the Day of Judgement, the only reason you can come up with for acting contrary to the Tradition of the Church is: ''because the pope decided otherwise.''

So observe the Lord's Octaves (especially local ones), keep his fasts and feasts on their proper, traditional days, and you can't go wrong. Do otherwise and things might very well go ill with you on the Day of Judgement.

Blessing the River...

2012-01-07T16:26:00.002Z

A blessed Epiphany to you all! Mine has been uneventful, really. No blessing of the waters (yet), no chalk, etc. I had to work, of course, though spent happy hours last night instructing my Asian friend in the rudiments of the Christian faith, using a sermon of St Leo and some antiphons as examples (per Liturgiam ad Deum, and all that).

Gregory DiPippo of Style over Substance 'blog has written an interesting post about the blessing of the waters on the eve of the Epiphany, which is one of those subjects which demonstrates how truly ecumenical traditional Liturgy is. I am going to St Magnus the Martyr on the Sunday within the Octave, where we're going to solemnly bless the River Thames. Come along if you have a mind.

I wish to convey my best wishes to the Old Kalendrists who are today celebrating the Lord's Nativity, and, of course, belated blessings to the New Kalendar Armenians for yesterday's festivities.

Keeping up appearances...

2012-01-07T16:15:00.002Z

Birthdays...

2012-01-03T12:22:00.005Z

On the Octave day of St John the Evangelist, in the year of Grace 1892, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born in Bloemfontein, South Africa. He is 120 years old today! He hasn't quite beat the Old Took yet, but there we are! Incidentally, 2012 will also mark the 75th anniversary of the publication of The Hobbit. Abebooks have a first edition, first impression, hard-back copy of The Hobbit signed by Tolkien himself, in very fine condition. It's only £9500. It would make a very nice birthday present!

The painting is, of course, by Tolkien himself, depicting Bilbo's travail on the Forest River after his escape from the Elven-king's halls in northern Mirkwood. I imagine that Tolkien and Bilbo were very much alike. At any rate The Red Book of Westmarch is the legendarium, preserved in Gondor and the Shire after Bilbo passed into the West.

Catholic Middle-earth...

2011-12-31T18:26:00.002Z

''But in Gondor the New Year will always now begin upon the twenty-fifth of March when Sauron fell, and when you were brought out of the fire to the King.'' (J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, Book VI, Chapter IV).

Tolkien was a Catholic and a mediaevalist. The Saxons believed, as indeed it was held in ancient tradition throughout mediaeval Europe, that Lady Day, the 25th March, was the actual date of our Lord's Crucifixion, and the last day of Creation. All of this is asserted in Byrhtferth's Manual, written by Byrhtnerth, a monk of Ramsey, c. A.D 970-c.1020. Until the adoption of the Gregorian Kalendar in 1752, the 25th March was the beginning of the new year for most legal and official purposes in England. The Fellowship of the Ring departed from Rivendell on 25th December, and the realm of Sauron was ended on the 25th March. I think he was trying to tell us all something.

You see, it isn't just moral lessons to be learned from The Lord of the Rings - for those who have eyes to see.

Art: Ted Nasmith.

St Thomas of Canterbury...

2011-12-29T10:59:00.002Z

As you know St Thomas was actually murdered as he was about to celebrate Vespers (''Vespera erat, nox longissima instabat,'' as William Fitzstephen's account has it), but perhaps the artist who produced this exquisite Book of Hours sought deliberately to equate the martyrdom of St Thomas with the Passion of our Lord in the context of the Eucharistic Sacrifice. Whatever floats your boat, as the saying goes.

Hobbitorum Carminae...

2011-12-26T15:48:00.003Z

Earlier today, on the feast of St Stephen the Protomartyr, I was joshing with a friend of mine about songs of the Hobbits, and we agreed that Gaudete, the 16th century Christmas carol, and Laetabundus, the Sequence for Christmas (absent from the Roman Rite, but found in the liturgical books proper to Sarum, and the Dominican liturgical books) would be songs sung in the Shire during Yuletide. Gaudete reminds me of O Filii et Filiae because it's very lively and simple.
Gaudete! Gaudete! Christus est natus,
Ex Maria Virgine, gaudete!

Tempus adest gratiæ
Hoc quod optabamus,
Carmina lætitiæ
Devote reddamus.

Gaudete! Gaudete! Christus est natus,
Ex Maria Virgine, gaudete!

Deus homo factus est
Natura mirante,
Mundus renovatus est
A Christo regnante.

Gaudete! Gaudete! Christus est natus,
Ex Maria Virgine, gaudete!

Ezechielis porta
Clausa pertransitur,
Unde lux est orta
Salus invenitur.

Gaudete! Gaudete! Christus est natus,
Ex Maria Virgine, gaudete!

Ergo nostra contio
Psallat iam in lustro;
Benedicat Domino:
Salus Regi nostro.

Gaudete! Gaudete! Christus est natus,
Ex Maria Virgine, gaudete!

This rendering of Laetabundus is sung by the Dominican friars of Oxford. Sic Ecclesia hobbitur ad astra! Merrie Christmass to you all, and may St Stephen pray for you.

Merrie Christmass...

2011-12-25T08:00:00.000Z

Nativitas carnis manifestatio est humanae naturae; partus Virginis divinae est virtutis indicium. Infantia parvuli ostenditur humilitate cunarum: magnitudo Altissimi declaratur vocibus Angelorum. Similis est rudimentis hominum, quem Herodes impie molitur occidere; sed Dominus est omnium quem Magi gaudent suppliciter adorare.

The birth of the flesh is the manifestation of the human nature; the bringing forth of the Virgin is the indication of the Divine power. The little infant is shown in the humility of the cradle: the magnitude of the Most High is declared by the voices of the Angels. He is like the beginning [ie, innocence] of Men whom Herod strives impiously to kill; but He is the Lord of all whom the Magi rejoice humbly to adore.

So wrote St Leo the Great, a jewel among the popes of old Rome, in his famous Tomus ad Flavianum. Is it not melodious, and bethought it of wise doctrine? So it was read by the papal legates to the Council of Chalcedon, upon which the Fathers cried, una voce: This is the faith of the Fathers, this is the faith of the Apostles. So we all believe, thus the orthodox believe. Anathema to him who does not thus believe. Peter has spoken thus through Leo. So taught the Apostles. Piously and truly did Leo teach, so taught Cyril [of Alexandria].

Christmas is possibly the most dear of all feasts in the Church's twofold cycle of liturgical prayer, and the one which truly brings home the fact of the Incarnation. Christ became so truly human as to be a babe in arms, to feel hunger, to feel sad, to get annoyed, to work, to walk at will about the land, to suffer and die at the desire of the Jews. I'm afraid I am very tired after a 60 hour week at work (the busiest time of the year in the retail industry), so posting has been sporadic at best, but may I take this opportunity to wish all my readers every temporal and spiritual blessing in the Holy Child in this most sacred Solemnity of His Birth. Please don't overindulge on peacock!

The Christmas Sybil...

2011-12-24T18:00:00.000Z

Dies irae dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
Teste David cum Sibylla.

I have often wondered to whom Thomas of Celano referred with these staves, and why the Sybil ranks alongside King David in import to him. Does he mean the Cumaean Sybil, who foretold (according to a reading of Virgil's Fourth Eclogue) the coming of the Saviour? (My old Latin teacher, herself a practicing Roman Catholic, told me of this many years ago, and told me to reject such reading as revisionist and fanciful). However, he may have been familiar with the so-called Sibilline Oracles which were a set of Christian writings imitating the pagan Sibillline Books. It's interesting nonetheless, that something so familiar should go unnoticed by hosts of people who go to Masses of the Dead.

In ancient days, in temples and caves, there dwelt wise women, the legendary seeresses of antiquity, who lived under the influence of the gods, and to whom men came from far and wide for counsel and prophecy. We call these women Sibyls, from the Greek σίβυλλα which means ''prophetess.'' One such Sibyl dwelt at the ancient Etruscan town of Tibur (modern day Tivoli), about fifteen miles north east of Rome. Her temple (which still stands to this day) stood in the midst of a sacred grove, the streams of which flowed out into the Tiber.

Augustus Caesar met with the Tiburtine Sibyl on the very afternoon of our Lord's Nativity. The story is to be found in Jacobus de Voragine's 13th century Golden Legend, and goes:

''...here is what Pope Innocent III tells us: in order to reward Octavian for having established peace in the world, the Senate wished to pay him the honours of a god. But the wise Emperor, knowing that he was mortal, was unwilling to assume the title of immortal before he had asked the Sibyl whether the world would some day see the birth of a greater man than he.

Now on the day of the Nativity the Sibyl was alone with the emperor, when at high noon, she saw a golden ring appear around the sun. In the middle of the circle stood a Virgin, of wondrous beauty, holding a Child upon her bosom. The Sibyl showed this wonder to Caesar; and a voice was heard which said: "This woman is the Ara Cæli!"

And the Sibyl said to him: "This Child will be greater than thou."

Thus the room where this miracle took place was consecrated to the Holy Virgin; and upon the site the church of Santa Maria in Ara Coeli stands today. However, other historians recount the same event in a slightly different way. According to them, Augustus mounted the Capitol, and asked the gods to make known to him who would reign after him; and he heard a voice saying: "A heavenly Child, the Son of the living God, born of a spotless Virgin!" Whereupon Augustus erected the altar beneath which he placed the inscription: ''This is the altar of the Son of the living God.''

That peasants' shop...

2011-12-20T18:52:00.002Z

I always had a moral objection to Tesco. The stores are, generally, badly laid out, with serious issues of poor stock control and availability, illegal pricing, lack of POS and promotional signage, with a generally oppressive feeling; the staff are, in my experience, ignorant of promotional lines and just ''don't give a crap,'' to put it one way; all conducive to a positive shopping experience! This isn't to mention the inferior fresh and grocery food standards compared with Waitrose or Marks & Spencers (hence the title), or the fact that it is morally questionable to support an industry where people buy poor quality food just because it's cheap - and we are supposed to be a superior species on this planet?

But I'm afraid this just confirms my aversion. According to Nick Lansley, Head of Research & Development for tesco.com, Christians who oppose same sex marriage are ''evil.'' You can read more about it here. Rest assured that I have written a very scathing email of complaint to the CEO, Philip Clarke. Mind you, being the snob that I am, I only ever went into Tesco for milk. I shall stop that forthwith.

Kim Jong Il...

2011-12-19T15:57:00.002Z

Kim Jong Il has died, apparently of ''fatigue'' (according to the broadcast I saw on BBC Asia at 5 o'clock this morning). The words of Gandalf spring to mind: ''a great evil has departed.'' I don't know about you, but I won't be praying for his soul. The man was despicable; he held his people in dire thralldom and want, murdered whole families because of a dissenting member, and had innocent Christians put cruelly to death. May he feel the full force of Divine Justice.

I wonder what ramifications his death will have for future politics in North Korea? The news put me in mind of Winston Smith's discourse on the ''spirit of man'' during his time with O'Brian in the Ministry of Love, that you cannot build a civilisation upon lies, grotesqueries and the intoxication of power. Do pray for the people of North Korea.

Catti...

2011-12-17T18:38:00.003Z

Melko however looking upon him was wroth, asking how a Gnome, a thrall by birth of his, had dared to fare away into the woods unbidden, but Beren answered that he was no runagate but came of the kindred of Gnomes that dwelt in Aryador and mingled much there among the folk of Men. Then was Melko yet more angry, for he sought ever to destroy the friendship and intercourse of Elves and Men, and said that evidently here was a plotter of deep treacheries against Melko's lordship, and one worthy of the torture of the Balrogs; but Beren seeing his peril answered: ''Think not, O most mighty Ainu Melko, Lord of the World, that this can be true, for an it were then should I not be here unaided and alone. No friendship has Beren son of Egnor for the kindred of Men; nay indeed, wearying utterly of the lands infested by that folk he has wandered out of Aryador. Many a great tale has my father made to me aforetime of thy splendour and glory, wherefore, albeit I am no renegade thrall, I do desire nothing so much as to serve thee in what small manner I may,'' and Beren said therewith that he was a great trapper of small animals and a snarer of birds, and had become lost in the hills in these pursuits until after much wandering he had come into strange lands, and even had not the Orcs seized him he would indeed have had no other rede of safety but to approach the majesty of Ainu Melko and beg him to grand him some humble office - as a winner of meats for his table perchance.

Now the Valar must have inspired that speech, or perchance it was a spell of cunning words cast on him in compassion by Gwendeling, for indeed it saved his life, and Melko marking his hardy frame believed him, and was willing to accept him as a thrall of his kitchens. Flattery savoured ever sweet in the nostrils of that Ainu, and for all his unfathomed wisdom many a lie of those whom he despised deceived him, were they clothed sweetly in words of praise; therefore now he gave orders for Beren to be made a thrall of Tevildo Prince of Cats. Now Tevildo was a mighty cat - the mightiest of all - and possessed of an evil sprite, as some say, and he was in Melko's constant following; and that cat had all cats subject to him, and he and his subjects were the chasers and getters of meat for Melko's table and for his frequent feasts. Wherefore is it that there is hatred still between the Elves and all cats even now when Melko rules no more, and his beasts are become of little account. (The Book of Lost Tales, Book II, Chapter I).

In 1959 a Cambridge cat breeder had asked Allen & Unwin if she could register a litter of Siamese kittens under names taken from The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien wrote back:

''My only comment is that of Puck upon mortals. I fear that to me Siamese cats belong to the fauna of Morder, but you need not tell the cat breeder that.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, no.219).

Here is Wisdom...

2011-12-16T14:57:00.002Z

Don't forget your O Antiphons, my dears! In that illustrious Use of Sarum they began today instead of tomorrow as in the Roman Rite.

O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti, attingens a fine usque ad finem, fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia: veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.

O Sapientia is in the Prayerbook kalendar of saints days, but no texts are given. Does anybody know how, why, when etc, it was ever recited? Or is it like one of those things like the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols?

I wish God would shew me the way of prudence...

No...

2011-12-14T13:23:00.002Z

''...I am not ok, and you are not ok.'' I think Mother Theresa said that. Some people who style themselves Christians (mostly nasty protestants) tend to think that as long as you're nice to people then everything is fine. No need to cultivate a sense of morality grounded in the Natural Law, a backbone, establish firm belief in the teachings of Christ's Church, attend Liturgy every Sunday, and humbly observe the liturgical feasts and fasts which envelope the seasons (nobody cares about months of sacred hearts or Joseph the working class git) - you know, no need to put on Christ as the Scriptures say. Everything is now, no need for a rhythm to life, fasting and feasting in due season; just go out every Friday for a piss up, hang on Saturday, spend money on Sundays, be nice to people, work, enjoy promiscuous sex with a series of life partners, get married in a registry office, get divorced (who cares about extra-marital sex, or the witness of Christ's Church? Since when did ''sanctifying grace'' come into marriage? It's just a civil contract between two random people who will probably fail to be rigidly monogamous, or later find some excuse to divorce), no need to put your moral and interpersonal proclivities to the test; no need to render obeisance to an established ecclesiastical authority, you can run your own moral life; take bits at random from various religions (like ''Karma''), and piece them together according to your own idle fancy. I often find that if it is hard to do, then it's usually the right decision. Not that this knowledge helps much when the time comes.

Of course given the morally dubious lifestyle I've chosen, I'm not really one to pontificate about morality, am I? Least of all to the many people out there who do not care for religion. Someone asked me the other day why I was so opposed to same-sex marriage - they often forget that I am a [lapsed] Catholic. Impossibility is something that doesn't enter their small minds. I believe that Marriage was instituted by God in the beginning of our innocence where a man and a woman establish between themselves a lifelong partnership, for their good, the good of the Church, the good of society, and for the procreation and upbringing of children. A valid marriage is therefore inextricably for two parties who are ontologically male and ontologically female, with no grey areas. No human authority has the right or power to ''redefine'' marriage in order to make concessions to pressure groups here and there in the name of ''equality.'' How could it be equal? Men cannot carry children, neither can women sire them; and surrogacy is no substitute. But God help the children who are raised by same sex partners. He alone knows what kind of psychological trauma and confusion they must be put to. Same sex marriage would bring the backbone of society crashing down, and I am not cynical or paranoid. This is why I do not identify with or support the LGBT movement - but I have my foot in both camps, apparently; doomed to forever straggle the two, in the knowledge that I'll never belong to either one. Oh well.

Unless I am quite mistaken most religious people are born into a religion and die in the same. Fr Chadwick was talking about this yesterday, that for them it provides stability, or something. For my part I am tired and bitter, lethargic in a wilderness of fear, uncertainty and disinclination. I still cling to the moral teachings of the Roman church, for they seem (for the most part) wise, grounded in Scripture, and in accord with my own conscience; but I have now no more real reason to adhere to them anymore than the relativistic moral teachings of any other mainstream Christian denomination. I went to Mass every Sunday for eleven years - this past year I have seriously let the side down. I used to blame my chronic lack of sleep, and getting up at 4:30am is no treat five days a week; but even upon waking I know this is not the reason. It's a moral and religious choice of the utmost import to which I make the wrong answer, where before there was no question. Do we go to Mass to render hearty thanks unto God, to partake in religious conduct of the highest order and ceremonial? Do we go to Mass to stand in the midst of the saints and adore the Eucharistic God at the sacring, and approach the Table of the Lord with a true penitent heart and receive that holy Sacrament? Or do we go to Mass simply to act as liturgical spectators, pronouncing judgements upon the follies, misgivings and mistakes of others, and afterwards congratulating one another over a pink gin or two? Such questions as these (and they are cogent) never used to bother me, and Mass attendance on Sundays and feasts was just ''the done thing,'' as was assistance with the preparation and serving of the Liturgy. Is it a sin to be too scandalized by others? I am probably the most intolerant person in England and generally take ill any meddling, but being part of a renewal process, in a tiny (albeit famous) corner of the West meant something to me - although I guess that the fruits of such small efforts as these are only measurable if you're in the correct place in the first place, although that is beside the point. I hate not being needed, or being of no accord.

I did have a point...oh yes. So what do I do now? I'm tired of this wood between the worlds and the sight of so many pools. I want to belong. The Sackville-Bagginses may be ignorant, prejudiced and generally disagreeable, but that can be said of all of us. We're all hobbits together, even if some of us like tweed and others cheap cable knit jumpers. It reminds me of that song the Silvan Elves made of the estrangement of the Ents and the Entwives when the Great Darkness came in the North. The Ents desired the wide woodland halls and the mountain slopes; the Entwives desired order, with well tended gardens and orchards. It is a strange and sad story, which Treebeard told to the hobbits Merry and Pippin when they escaped the battle of the Orcs with the men of Rohan. The last stanza goes:

Together we will take the road that leads into the West,
And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.

I hope this post is comprehensible. I just sat down and typed it, and have no inclination to go through and edit it.

Art: Ted Nasmith. A painting of Rivendell from a J.R.R Tolkien kalendar which is based on a watercolour Tolkien himself painted of that fair valley; a place where the regal history of Middle-earth is remembered by Elrond, master of lore, and the people subject to him. Lórien is different in the sense that the land itself seems wrought of that history, that it lives still, rather than consigned to the books. I guess this would be synonymous with the difference between liturgical study and living a truly liturgical life. The former is a praiseworthy feat and could render great service to Christ's Church, but becomes stagnant, almost evil, when it renders you bare of all charity, and bethought of bitterness.

To care...

2011-12-13T12:51:00.003Z

Leaving questions of the aforementioned painting at the top of this 'blog aside for the moment (in fact, they can go hang), Fr Chadwick over at English Catholic has a very resonant and apposite post about conversion, patrimony, keeping up with the Joneses (I got that impression), intolerance, the wood between the worlds; call it what you will. I enjoy reading his stuff. He seems steadier than me, less quick to wrath and resentment and more skilled in the art of writing, even if we are in some ways similar in our outlook. I commend him for linking to me - doing so can hardly increase his popularity in the liturgical (or otherwise) blogosphere.

As for me, I am at present so overworked and frustrated with one thing after another that I have stopped caring and retired to the woods of Middle-earth. It's St Lucy's Day today, and I am going to spend some time with my dog (who is called Lucy, and who is in the above photo), a creature far more worthy than many humans, who understands me better than most, and far more liturgical than me, or anyone. Who else would wake up and scratch on your bedroom door at close to 2 o'clock in the morning to remind you of your liturgical duties?

Hmmmm...

2011-12-12T19:58:00.001Z

Does anybody know what has happened to the painting at the top of the screen? I just came online one day and it had shrunk. I didn't do anything...

Master of Doom, by doom mastered...

2011-12-11T21:04:00.002Z

Then abiding until a very vital and unfended spot was within stroke, he heaved up Gurtholfin his black sword and stabbed with all his strength above his head, and that magic blade of the Rodothlim [Gnomes] went into the vitals of the dragon even to the hilt, and the yell of his death-pain rent the woods and all that heard it were aghast.

Then did that drake writhe horribly and the huge spires of his contortions were terrible to see, and all the trees he brake that stood nigh to the place of his agony. Almost had he crossed the chasm when Gurtholfin pierced him, and now he cast himself upon its farther bank and laid all waste about him, and lashed and coiled and made a yelling and a bellowing such that the stoutest blenched and turned to flee. Now those afar thought that this was the fearsome noise of battle betwixt the seven, Turambar and his comrades, and little they hoped ever to see any of them return, and Níniel's heart died within her at the sounds; but below in the ravine those three caverns who had watched Turambar from afar fled now in terror back towards the fall, and Turambar clung nigh to the lip of the chasm white and trembling, for he was spent.

At length did those noises of horror cease, and there arose a great smoking, for Glomund was dying. Then in utter hardihood did Turambar creep out alone from his hiding, for in the agony of the Foalókë his sword was dragged from his hand ere he might withdraw it, and he cherished Gurtholfin beyond all his possessions, for all things died, or man or beast, whom once its edges bit. Now Turambar saw where the dragon lay, and he was stretched out stiff upon his side, and Gurtholfin stood yet in his belly; but he breathed still. (J.R.R Tolkien, The History of Middle-earth, Volume II, Chapter II).

Randomness. Art: Ted Nasmith.

Vestments...

2011-12-07T21:37:00.003Z

Rubricarius of the St Lawrence Press has published a series of articles about the vestments of Dr Adrian Fortescue, salvaged from a skip by Fra' Duncan Gallie of the Knights of Malta - no doubt the priest responsible for throwing them away is a philistine with no liturgical or aesthetic sense. Do go over and look; the stoles are especially exquisite - not like the spade-shaped ones in vogue among the Sackville-Bagginses.

From Fr Nicholas Christmas...

2011-12-06T16:27:00.003Z

Cliff House, North Pole, Christmas 1943

My dear Priscilla,

A very happy Christmas! I suppose you will be hanging up your stocking just once more: I hope so for I have still a few little things for you. After this I shall have to say, ''goodbye,'' more or less: I mean, I shall not forget you. We always keep the old numbers of our friends, and their letters; and later on we hope to come back when they are grown up and have houses of their own and children.

My messengers tell me that people call it ''grim'' this year. I think they mean miserable: and so it is, I fear, in very many places where I was specially fond of going; but I am very glad to hear that you are still not really miserable. Don't be! I am still very much alive, and shall come back again soon, as merry as ever. There has been no damage in my country; and though my stocks are running rather low I hope soon to put that right.

Polar Bear - too ''tired'' to write himself (so he says) -

I am, reely

sends a special message to you: love and a hug! He says: do ask if she still has a bear called Silly Billy, or something like that; or is he worn out?

Give my love to the others: John and Michael and Christopher - and of course to all your pets that you used to tell me about. Polar Bear and all the Cubs are very well. They have really been very good this year and have hardly had time to get into any mischief.

I hope you will find most of the things that you wanted and I am very sorry that I have no 'Cats' Tongues' left. But I have sent nearly all the books you asked for. I hope your stocking will seem full!

Very much love from your old friend, Father Christmas.

(J.R.R Tolkien, Letters from Father Christmas).

I know we have a long way to go before Christmas, so purists out there (confessedly like me) who despise the whole ''festive season'' thing which only mocks and cheapens the Advent and Christmas seasons have naught to fear from me. Within this great Octave of St Andrew the Apostle, called first among the Disciples, we celebrate the feast of St Nicholas, the ''real'' Fr Christmas, and the patron saint of children. Many miracles are attributed to him, and many legends arose around his cult, such as you can find in the letter from Fr Christmas to Priscilla Tolkien when she was a girl. Why do we lie to our children, though? Why do we have them believe in a benevolent, fat old man in a red cloak who dives down chimneys and leaves gifts under the Christmas tree? Do these things have much to do with the historical St Nicholas, Wonderworker, who punched the heretic Arius in the face during the ''there was when he was not'' debate at the Council of Nicaea? Certainly my father told me about St Nicholas, that he was a bishop in Asia Minor in ancient days, but I seldom thought of the jolly fat man and the saint in the same light. To what extent are they akin? At least my upbringing was ''culturally'' Roman Catholic, augmented by my pious Roman Catholic grandparents, and balanced by influence from my protestant grandmother (even now I am averse to kissing things like relics and images); how is it with godless children? When they grow old enough and start families of their own, why do they continue what seems to me to be a custom with little meaning? What use are irreligious fairy tales to children with no faith?

Whatever betide, I still enjoy some of the legends surrounding St Nicholas, many of which are as old as the hills. I am even mindful of them when I say my prayers to him. If you have children, Letters from Father Christmas by J.R.R Tolkien would be a nice Christmas present (in my opinion). The Good Little Christmas Tree by Ursula Moray Williams also, with handsome illustrations by Gillian Tyler; one of my favourite books as a child. The little I know of Ursula Moray Williams is good; like Tolkien she was a Catholic, and her book is influenced by the faith of our fathers for those who have eyes to see. It is out of print unfortunately, but you can still find it on Amazon.

St Barbara...

2011-12-04T14:43:00.003Z

The most beautiful image of St Barbara in East Anglia - on the rood screen at Barton Turf. Many thanks to the Canon Precentor of Norwich Cathedral for bringing this to my attention.

Unfortunately the world over which she once presided is now dead, and gone.

St Barbara, pray for us.

Reconciliation...

2011-12-02T12:50:00.003Z

The strife among the Princes of the House of Finwë went back into the long Years of the Trees in Valinor, but it was nursed by Melkor, the father of lies, who went at will about the land ere his devices were laid bare, and he could be subdued again. When Fëanor went into exile from Valinor with his Seven Sons, a greater part of the Gnomes went with him, but by no means all were willing to march under Fëanor 's banner; for many, having still a love and reverence for the Valar, went with the host of Fingolfin and Finarfin, the half-brothers of Fëanor, bearing with them treasures, a solace and a burden on the road; but all fell under the Doom of Mandos. When the host of Fëanor came to the shores of Middle-earth, and at the bidding of Fëanor burned the ships of the Shoreland Pipers at Losgar, Fingolfin descried the flames from the Araman and knew that he was betrayed, and so attempted the dread passage of the Helkaraxë about the girdle of Arda, which none had dared save the Valar only, and Ungoliant. No love had any in the host of Fingolfin for the House of Fëanor when they met again in Mithrim, but the waters of Mithrim divided their camp. Thus was the assault upon Angband stayed, even as the Sun rose flaming in the West and filled the servants of Morgoth with fear. But Maedhros, son of Fëanor, Morgoth had chained to the sheer walls of Thangorodrim.

Thus spake Ælfwine of England, who found the Straight Road into the West:

Thus because of the curse that lay upon them the Gnomes achieved nothing, while Morgoth hesitated, and the dread of light was new and strong upon the Orcs. But Morgoth arose from thought, and seeing the division of his foes he laughed. In the pits of Angband he caused vast smokes and vapours to be made, and they came forth from the reeking tops of the Iron Mountains, and afar off they could be seen in Mithrim, staining the bright airs in the first mornings of the world. A wind came out of the east, and bore them over Hithlum, darkening the new Sun; and they fell, and coiled about the fields and hollows, and lay upon the waters of Mithrim, drear and poisonous.

Then Fingon the valiant, son of Fingolfin, resolved to heal the feud that divided the Gnomes, before their Enemy should be ready for war; for the earth trembled in the Northlands with the thunder of the forges of Morgoth underground. Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros; and though he knew not yet that Maedhros had not forgotten him at the burning of the ships, the thought of their ancient friendship stung his heart. Therefore he dared a deed which is justly renowned among the feats of the princes of the Gnomes: alone, and without the counsel of any, he set forth in search of Maedhros; and aided by the very darkness that Morgoth had made he came unseen into the fastness of his foes. High upon the shoulders of Thangorodrim he climbed, and looked in despair upon the desolation of the land; but no passage or crevice could he find through which he might come within Morgoth's stronghold. Then in defiance of the Orcs, who cowered still in the dark vaults beneath the earth, he took his harp and sang a song of Valinor that the Gnomes made of old, before strife was born among the sons of Finwë; and his voice rang in the mournful hollows that had never heard before aught save cries of fear and woe.

Thus Fingon found what he sought. For suddenly above him far and faint his song was taken up, and a voice answering called to him. Maedhros it was that sang amid his torment. But Fingon climbed to the foot of the precipice where his kinsman hung, and then could go no further; and he wept when he saw the cruel device of Morgoth. Maedhros therefore, being in anguish without hope, begged Fingon to shoot him with his bow; and Fingon strung an arrow, and bent his bow. And seeing no better hope he cried to Manwë, saying: ''O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Gnomes in their need!''

His prayer was answered swiftly. For Manwë to whom all birds are dear, and to whom they bring news upon Taniquetil from Middle-earth, had sent forth the race of Eagles, commanding them to dwell in the crags of the North, and to keep watch upon Morgoth; for Manwë still had pity for the exiled Elves. And the Eagles brought news of much that passed in those days to the sad ears of Manwë. Now, even as Fingon bent his bow, there flew down from the high airs Thorondor, King of Eagles, mightiest of all birds that have ever been, whose outstretched wings spanned thirty fathoms; and staying Fingon's hand he took him up, and bore him to the face of the rock where Maedhros hung. But Fingon could not release the hell-wrought bond upon his wrist, nor sever it, nor draw it from the stone. And therefore in his pain Maedhros begged that he would slay him; but Fingon cut off his hand above the wrist, and Thorondor bore them back to Mithrim.

There Maedhros in time was healed; for the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, such as those possessed who were nurtured in Valinor. His body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart; and he lived to wield sword with left hand more deadly than his right had been. By this deed Fingon won great renown, and all the Gnomes praised him; and the hatred between the houses of Fingolfin and Fëanor was assuaged. For Maedhros begged forgiveness for the desertion in Araman; and he waived his claim to kingship over all the Gnomes, saying to Fingolfin: ''If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.'' But to this his brothers did not all in their hearts agree. (J.R.R Tolkien, The Silmarillion, Chapter XIII).

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Vigilate...

2011-12-02T11:49:00.001Z

I highly recommend listening to this. The Tallis Scholars sing Byrd's Vigilate. Enjoy!

Vicar's choice...

2011-12-01T23:18:00.007Z

It is often claimed that the London Oratory is a centre of ''liturgical excellence.'' I wonder what standard they who make this claim use to measure ''liturgical excellence.'' Clearly not Tradition, so what? I venture to think that the most famous ''liturgical'' people out there who make such judgements really don't know what they're doing, or if they do they just wish to perpetuate a myth and keep innocent, less-informed Christians in the dark - a bit like keeping up with the Joneses, or a sycophants' club where they all compliment each other on how traditional and Ultramontane they all are. The feast of St Andrew had, of old, an Octave in this land, and having half an hour to spare, I decided to listen to the BBC Radio 3 live broadcast of choral Vespers from the Oratory for Andrewmas. I think that the incorrect psalmody, the mediocre choir, and the presence of elements from the New Rite would shew this place up as being by no means a centre of ''liturgical excellence'' (a claim made by a moderator of The New Liturgical Movement 'blog, by the way). Why Psalm 117 in place of Psalm 138? Vicar's choice, perhaps? Psalm 117 is much shorter than Psalm 138. Maybe it was so that we could have a polyphonic psalm. If this was the reason then all I can say is that the Sacred Liturgy cannot be cheapened like that.

From the Annals of Aman...

2011-12-01T22:31:00.003Z

This passage from The History of Middle-earth I find so resonant. Does it remind you of anything?

And it is said that Melkor was not seen again for a while; but suddenly he appeared before the doors of the house of Finwë and Fëanor at Formenos, and sought to speak with them. And he said to them: ''Behold the truth of all that I have spoken, and how you are indeed banished unjustly. And think not that the Silmarils lie safe in any treasury within the realm of the gods. But if the heart of Fëanor is yet free and bold as his words were in Túna, then I will aid you, and bring you far from this narrow land. For am I not Vala as are they? Yea, and more than they, and have ever been a friend to the Noldor, most skilled and valiant of all the folk of Arda.''

Then the heart of Fëanor was increased in bitterness and filled with fear for the Silmarils, and in that mood he endured. But Melkor's words touched too deep, and awoke a fire more fierce than he intended; and Fëanor looked upon him with blazing eyes, and lo! he saw through the semblance of Melkor and pierced the cloaks of his mind, perceiving there the lust for the Silmarils. Then hate overcame all fear and he cursed Melkor and bade him begone. ''Get thee from my gate, thou gangrel, jail-crow of Mandos,'' said he, and he shut the doors of his house in the face of the mightiest of all the dwellers in Eä.

And at that time, being himself in peril, Melkor departed, consumed with wrath, and bitter vengeance he plotted for his shame. (The History of Middle-earth, Volume X).

The account in The Silmarillion is different, and in a few literary respects superior, but given the choice I always look to The History of Middle-earth.

Art: Ted Nasmith. And said Fëanor, ''let the ships burn!''

Andrewmas...

2011-11-30T20:34:00.003Z

Beatus Andreas Apostolus sit pro nobis perpetuus intercessor. I trust you all had a pleasant feast day? I know I did (thank you lovely friend)! I have now raided my father's vintage whiskey cupboard - well not really, his middle name is Andrew, and he seemed pleased that today was one of his name days; and has let me partake of some of his 30 year old Glenfarclas. I'm no connoisseur of whiskey, but cheers dad!

The armour of light...

2011-11-29T18:17:00.003Z

A welcome sight. The Sacred Ministers vested for the celebration of Mass at the church of St Magnus the Martyr nigh to London Bridge on the First Sunday in Advent. A truly splendid way to begin the liturgical year!

Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious Majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal, through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen. (Collect for the First Sunday in Advent in the Book of Common Prayer). You will look in vain to the Sarum liturgical books for this. The Collect for the First Sunday in Advent in Sarum is much the same as the ''modern'' (you know what I mean) Roman books; it seems that the Collect above is a 16th century composition, not wholly inappropriate, it must be said; although the Collect prescribed for next Sunday is less good, and bethought of protestantism. The Officium in Sarum for this Sunday, and the next, and the next, correspond to the Roman Introits; for the First Sunday, even so:

Ad te levavi animam meam: Deus meus in te confido, non erubescam: neque irrideant me inimici mei: etenim universi qui te expectant non confundentur. Ps. Vias tuas, Domine, demonstra mihi: et semitas tuas edoce me. Ad te levavi. Gloria Patri, &c.

The Introit Rorate Cæli, for the Fourth Sunday in Advent, is not found in the Sarum liturgical books, and in its place is the Officium:

Memento nostri, Domine, in beneplacito populi tui: visita nos in salutari tuo: ad videndum in bonitate electorum tuorum, in laetitia gentis tuae, ut lauderis cum haereditate tua. Ps. Peccavimus cum patribus nostris: iniuste egimus, iniquitatem fecimus. Memento nostri. Gloria Patri, &c.

A rather loose, albeit beautiful, translation is given by Coverdale. Remember me, O Lord, according to the favour that thou bearest unto thy people; O visit me with thy salvation, that I may see the felicity of thy chosen, and rejoice in the gladness of thy people, and give thanks with thine inheritance. We have sinned with our fathers: we have done amiss, and dealt wickedly. Remember me. Glory be to the Father, &c.

The Epistle and Gospel pericopes correspond across all three for the First Sunday, although in Sarum there is, of course, a Sequence (Salus Aeterna), which is peculiar (as are all the Advent Sunday sequences) since all lines of each verse end with the letter a, and do not seem to follow any strict poetic cursus. There is a goodly translation by Pearson (1871), which renders it almost Tolkienian, since it is laden with the sorrow of mortal men, but typical of Advent, with expectation, by which the season is enriched. I wonder if Tolkien knew of these Sequences? As a mediaevalist, it is not unlikely.

The Missal of Robert of Jumièges contains a proper Preface for this Sunday. I was hoping against hope that this would correspond to the ad libitum proper Preface for Advent in the 1962 Missal, but no. The preface in the 1962 Missal is, interestingly, derived from the Lyonese Missal, a curiosity considering that most else in that dread reform had no source in the Tradition of the Church.

(Domine sancte Pater omnipotens aeternae Deus), cui proprium est ac singulare quod bonus es. Et nulla umquam a te es commutatione diversus. Propitiare quaesumus supplicationibus nostris, et Ecclesiae tuae misericordiam tuam quam deprecamur ostende. Manifestans plebi tuae Unigeniti tui et Incarnationis mysterium, et adventus admirabile sacramentum: ut in universitate nationum constet esse perfectum quod vatum oraculis fuit ante promissum, percipiantque dignitatem adoptionis quos exornat confessio veritatis. Per quem...

Or as found in the 1962 books and the Lyonese Missal (to be used on all Dominicae and feriae even up to the Vigil of the Lord's Nativity inclusive):

(Domine sancte Pater omnipotens aeternae Deus): per Christum Dominum nostrum. Quem perdito hominum generi Salvatorem misericors et fidelis promisisti: cuius veritas instrueret inscios, sanctitas iustificaret impios, virtus adiuvaret infirmos. Dum ergo prope est ut veniat quem missurus es, et dies affulget liberationis nostrae, in hac promissionum tuarum fide, piis gaudiis exultamus. Et ideo...

It would be interesting to see how many traditionalists, accustomed to using pre-Pius XII liturgical books, use the ad libitum Preface for Advent - it's quite traditional. It is one of those rare things in the modern Roman Rite where you can have catholicity in variegation, rather than uniformity, which is not now nor ever desirable.

A blessed Advent to you all. Watch ye for ye know not when the master of the house cometh.

The Door of Night...

2011-11-29T14:07:00.002Z

''Thus came it that the Gods dared a very great deed, the most mighty of all their works; for making a fleet of magic rafts and boats with Ulmo's aid - and otherwise had none of these endured to sail upon the waters of Vai - they drew to the Wall of Things, and there they made the Door of Night (Moritarnon or Tarn Fui as the Eldar name it in their tongues). There it still stands, utterly black and huge against the deep-blue walls. Its pillars are of the mightiest basalt and its lintel likewise, but great dragons of black stone are carved thereon, and shadowy smoke pours slowly from their jaws. Gates it has unbreakable, and none know how they were made or set, for the Eldar were not suffered to be in that dread building, and it is the last secret of the Gods; and not the onset of the world will force that door, which opens to a mystic word alone. That word Urwendi only knows and Manwë who spake it to her; for beyond the Door of Night is the outer dark, and he who passes therethrough may escape the world and death and hear things not yet for the ears of Earth-dwellers, and this may not be.'' (The History of Middle-earth, Volume I, Chapter IX, The Hiding of Valinor).

Earendel keeps ceaseless watch upon those doors, lest the Dark Lord figure out the secret of them and essay to rend them. I have often wondered about the presence of ''dragons'' - creatures of Morgoth, even if they are lifeless. Smoke is said to issue ever from their jaws. Perhaps they function like to cathedral gargoyles, such as you find on Notre Dame de Paris? The idea was that images of devils would cheat the Devil into thinking the church were a place already claimed by them, temples unto his cult, or something. The Middle Ages were fun!

I dreamt of those doors once, when I was staying with my grandmother in Cornwall, as a boy of 14 or 15 Summers; I stood upon the edge of a vast precipice and beheld an unbroken forest kingdom below, beyond which was a sea, which I could descry with the sight that was given to me, and amidmost were the impenetrable doors. I longed to fly like a bird to them, but I woke up and the vision was taken away. It was time to get up.

St Quentin of Bumhampton...

2011-11-29T11:52:00.003Z

Well this certainly tickled my fancy when I opened the email from Blogger. A comment from a less-than-sympathetic reader? A cruel joke? An innocuous observation? Think of it what you will!

You know, I've long suspected that Anglo-Catholics should be called Gaynglicans and that most men who dress up and get all exercised about liturgy aren't exactly the most butch, but you sir, take the cake.
Why not just canonize Quentin Crisp and be done with it?

Venturus est Dominus...

2011-11-28T15:25:00.002Z

Well, Advent is finally upon us. It is less sombre than Lent, and, even as the Gnomes standing upon the high walls of Gondolin await the coming of the Dawn, and to raise their voices in song at the uprising of the Sun, the Church too awaits the coming of Christ, the liturgical Sun and the Sun of Justice. It is a liturgical season of rather blended feelings; on the one hand, the use of folded chasubles reminds us of our need to do penance, and the sorrow of the Church on earth is united to the sorrow of the old Israelites awaiting the Messias (indeed it is behoveful that we all of us unite ourselves to the old Israelites in asking God for the Christ-child), but on the other hand, the Church ceases not to say Alleluia in the Sacred Liturgy, nor wholly to assuage gladness in the Sanctorale. As Dom Prosper put it: ''This is the reason why the Alleluia accompanies even her sighs, and why she seems to be at once joyous and sad, waiting for the coming of that holy night which will be brighter to her than the most sunny of days, and on which her joy will expel all her sorrow.'' (The Liturgical Year, Volume I, Advent).

Trado, tradere...

2011-11-28T08:00:00.003Z

A silhouette of Whitby Abbey - a vision of that which has been left far behind by the flowing streams of Time.

I am not a protestant - protestants do not pray to the Saints, nor do they make such a fuss about Liturgy, or ornaments, rubrics, candles, etc. Protestantism is a heresy which consists in rejection of Tradition and the triumph of one's own judgement upon the Word of God. A year or so ago I was accused of protestantism because I was guilty of ''rigidly adhering to antiquity in spite of contrary papal or conciliar legislation.'' Do Roman Catholics not understand the meaning of Tradition? They accuse protestants of selectivism, rejection of proper ecclesiastical authority, etc, but are they not themselves guilty of a similar heresy? It is often the way with diametrically opposed schools of thought, or things - they're exactly the same, suffering the same prejudices and want of reason. Nazism was manifestly much the same as Stalinism, for example. So it is with modern Roman Catholics and protestants. If it boils down to authority then we may we may well ask wherefore the pope has authority sufficient enough to alter Tradition - or if he does, what distinguishes the Word of God from Tradition since both are inextricably linked in the fundamentals of revelation. How is any verse of Scripture exempt from the authority of the pope? Do I exaggerate? Apologists for Papal authority go on and on about the limits thereof, but I am no longer convinced of their arguments. History, which the Roman communion cannot conceal forever, begs to differ. Papal authority as it has been manifested since the 19th century has, in my view, gone way beyond the parameters set by legitimate exercise of authority in the Church, be it that of an ecumenical synod or the delicts of a local bishop. Even in terms of philosophy it has neither been justly exercised nor for the good of the Church.

The stance of the Roman communion on doctrinal and moral relativism is commenable, but is this not just a stinking red herring? It is but to say: ''you must believe this, this, and that; you must also do this, but the pope, Christ's Vicar, is above these rules and can do as he sees fit on a whim. He is infallible, after all.'' Or maybe I've spoken of this before and I am just repeating myself. It is unpopular to think so, but if the pope can decide that folded chasubles aren't to be used on the Sundays and ferial days of Advent anymore, what's stopping him from saying that the doctrine of the Triune God is false? A few weeks ago I had this argument with a Greek Orthodox woman who said that all the pope has to do is ''remove the Filioque,'' and everyone would be happy. Who exactly did she have in mind? Certainly not me! Such a ''trivial'' thing as she seemed to think involves very complex questions of theology and ecclesiology. The Roman church has professed belief in the double procession of the Holy Ghost for over a thousand years. For the pope to simply remove the Filioque from the Nicene Creed would be the height of arrogance. Not only would he be anathematizing hundreds of Western saints who taught contra Graeciae, he would be severely re-shaping Roman Trinitarian theology as defined by the councils to which Rome attaches the name ''ecumenical.'' Does the Bishop of Rome have this authority? What then? Would the pope step down from his exalted position in Christ's Church and pick up where everybody left off in the 11th century? What then was the purpose of the Papacy for a thousand years? Its self-destruction? Would that it were! But no. It matters not that the pope added the Filioque in the first place, or that maybe one day he will remove it, to nobody's satisfaction but the ignorant. The point is simply this: if you question the pope's authority (whether or no you blame the authority of the pope) regarding folded chasubles, or some other aspect of liturgical reform, you might as well question the addition, or removal, of the Filioque. What are the ecumenical implications of all this? Personally, I think that it leaves small hope for the reunion of the Roman and Orthodox churches - but who wants that anyway? I know of many deluded Romans who think little of the Orthodox (''how dare they reject our lovely pope!''), and still more Orthodox who can't abide the Papacy. I can just imagine the Orthodox and the Traddie in conversation about it. After the pope excises the Filioque from the Creed, the Traddie asks: ''so, what do we do now, then?'' The Orthodox replies: ''well, now you abolish Pastor Aeternus and Lumen Gentium.'' ''Why?'' ''Because the Filioque is a fundamentally papal issue. In no other way are our ecclesiologies so far apart as the question of the pope.'' Can any of you see this going anyway?

I adore this. It's superb. Liturgy as it should be.

This post has long ceased to have any coherent point, so I'll just round up. A few years ago I went into Holy Trinity church at Long Melford in Suffolk, a masterpiece of the perpendicular style. I marvelled at the church, so beautiful it was, and I looked about me with a profound sense of regret which has never wholly left me, even now when I think that Rome has no actual right to have dioceses in England. It was the feeling of an exile returned after a long absence, looking about at things at once familiar and yet remote, remembering times when he was lord - the typical triumphalist attitude of the Roman Catholic to the Anglican about their own ancestral churches. It put me in mind of the words of Galadriel to Celeborn. You remember her kindly remonstrance about the company of the Ring being caught up in the net of Moria? ''If our folk had been exiled long and far from Lothlórien, who of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass nigh and would not wish to look upon their ancient home, though it had become an abode of dragons?'' Even if Roman Catholics eventually got all the old churches back, would the liturgy they brought with them be any improvement? Do they vainly suppose that their traditionalism would be a homecoming? That our catholic forebears would be familiar with their modern liturgical books, statues of St Joseph the Worker and Lourdes shrines?

Well doesn't this show up my lack of skill as a writer! I am actually quite bored with the raison d'etre of this 'blog at the present. I am labouring under a crippling depression, struggling at work, home and university, have suffered a series of setbacks, etc. I can't even concentrate on my Tolkien books. I started reading Book V of The Lord of the Rings about two weeks ago, and haven't even finished The Siege of Gondor. Maybe I should just keep quiet about liturgy. It makes me unhappy and I can't claim to have anything more than a rudimentary knowledge anyway. Let the Ents look to it!

Tolkien's Mother...

2011-11-27T21:31:00.002Z

Mabel Tolkien, A.D 1870-1904. Latter day Martyr, long-suffering for the Catholic Faith. Mabel was so inextricably linked up with Tolkien's own faith that, in a sense, the Catholic Faith occupied the same place that she had, after she passed from this world unto her long home. She died after her Baptist and Unitarian family cut her off for ''poping'' in the Jubilee Year.

Seneca...

2011-11-27T14:44:00.003Z

I am among a minority of Classicists who believes that Seneca was a proto-Christian humanist. I am also among a minority of Catholics who thinks that planetis plicatis ante pectus should be used on Dominicae and feriae of the season of Advent.

I wonder. Are such dispositions measurable in the history of my salvation? When I stand before the just Judge on the Day of Judgement, will it avail me to say to Him: ''I was traditional in that respect,'' when I live in the knowledge that my life is a great moral vacuum? It reminds me of that passage in Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth where Tar-Meneldur, the fifth King of Númenor, reads the letter of Gil-galad, musing on the judgement of Eru. For God shall bring every work into judgement, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.

Libera me...

2011-11-24T13:43:00.003Z

I'm sorry to learn that Dominic Mary of the 'blog Libera Me has died. I met him a handful of times in this world and found him to be a very pleasant man, pious and understanding.

I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another.

I heard a voice from heaven, saying unto me: Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit: for they rest from their labours. Amen.

From the gate of hell. Deliver his soul, O Lord. May he rest in peace. Amen.

Narn e' Rach Morgoth...

2011-11-23T13:02:00.002Z

''You say it,'' said Morgoth. ''I am the Elder King: Melkor, first and mightiest of all the Valar, who was before the world, and made it. The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will. But upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. Wherever they go, evil shall arise. Whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. Whatsoever they do shall turn against them. They shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.'' (J.R.R Tolkien, The Children of Húrin, Chapter III).

Art: Ted Nasmith.

In mei memoriam facietis...

2011-11-21T17:16:00.003Z

I was very interested to read this yesterday by the Bishop of London (whom I was privileged to meet in 2003). I thought it wise, timely and pastoral. That the use of the new translation of the Roman Missal in the Church of England is ''a pastoral unkindness to the laity and a serious canonical matter'' is without question. The 1662 Book of Common Prayer ought to be the standard for Anglican liturgical praxis, not Common Worship, or the modern Roman liturgical books.

Ut quid, Deus?

2011-11-20T18:43:00.002Z

O God, wherefore art thou absent from us so long: why is thy wrath so hot against the sheep of thy pasture?
O think upon thy congregation: whom thou hast purchased and redeemed of old.
Think upon the tribe of thine inheritance: and mount Sion, wherein thou hast dwelt.
Lift up thy feet, that thou mayest utterly destroy every enemy: which hath done evil in thy sanctuary.
Thine adversaries roar in the midst of thy congregations: and set up their banners for tokens.
He that hewed timber afore out of the thick trees: was known to bring it to an excellent work.
But now they break down all the carved work thereof: with axes and hammers.
They have set fire upon thy holy places: and have defiled the dwelling-place of thy Name, even unto the ground.
Yea, they said in their hearts, Let us make havock of them altogether: thus have they burnt up all the houses of God in the land.
We see not our tokens, there is not one prophet more: no, not one is there among us, that understandeth any more.
O God, how long shall the adversary do this dishonour: how long shall the enemy blaspheme thy Name, for ever?
Why withdrawest thou thy hand: why pluckest thou not thy right hand out of thy bosom to consume the enemy?
For God is my King of old: the help that is done upon earth he doeth it himself.
Thou didst divide the sea through thy power: thou brakest the heads of the dragons in the waters.
Thou smotest the heads of Leviathan in pieces: and gavest him to be meat for the people in the wilderness.
Thou broughtest out fountains and waters out of the hard rocks: thou driedst up mighty waters.
The day is thine, and the night is thine: thou hast prepared the light and the sun.
Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter.
Remember this, O Lord, how the enemy hath rebuked: and how the foolish people hath blasphemed thy Name.
O deliver not the soul of thy turtle-dove unto the multitude of the enemies: and forget not the congregation of the poor for ever.
Look upon the covenant: for all the earth is full of darkness and cruel habitations.
O let not the simple go away ashamed: but let the poor and needy give praise unto thy Name.
Arise, O God, maintain thine own cause: remember how the foolish man blasphemeth thee daily.
Forget not the voice of thine enemies: the presumption of them that hate thee increaseth ever more and more.

From the side bar...

2011-11-19T20:53:00.003Z

Some of you may have noticed that I have removed the image of Pius XII and the petition from the 1552 Book of Common Prayer against the tyranny of the Bishop of Rome, and all his detestable enormities. Long time readers of this 'blog will remember that before my utter rejection of the Roman communion there had been an image of pope Benedict. I replaced it with the aforementioned image of Pacelli in posture of Lord-knows-what, and the petition from the Litany. Some people think I am cracked like old Mr Bilbo, or a fanatic, and I guess that that ship has long since sailed. Think of it what you will - an attempt to regain credibility, a mild ecumenical gesture, completely random, whatever. I think of it as a symbol that Liturgiae Causa is not reactionary like Protestantism, set up in defiance of Christ's Church, even if most Roman Catholics see Protestantism only in terms of rejection of Papal authority, and fissiparous even so because therein lies the root cause of all heresy. Personally I think that there is more to Catholicism than intellectual assent to the teachings of the pope, and that such a notion as ''do what the pope says on a whim'' is wholly novel, and certainly unprecedented in the history of the Church. Catholicism encompasses all manner of traditions, pious customs and culture.

I hope that this move is welcomed by readers. I venture to ask, though; does anybody listen to me?

The Eye of Sauron...

2011-11-18T09:00:00.011Z

''Of old there was Sauron the Maia...'' (The Silmarillion, Part V, Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age).

A few years ago I attended a Forty Hours Prayer where, during the Mass coram Sanctissimo (on the third day), the celebrant preached (!) about the Blessed Sacrament. He contrasted the Sacrament in the monstrance to the great Eye of Sauron, a symbol of vigilance and a reminder that God pervades over all, or something. I was told in the vestry afterwards that most eyes in the church fell upon me when the name of Tolkien was uttered - I guess one of a number of reasons that preaching is actually forbidden during Masses coram Sanctissimo. I felt obliged to remonstrate with the celebrant about his choice of topic (naturally my complaints and adherence to the law of the Church regarding the subject of a sermon at all were completely ignored), since it seemed to me that his information was based upon the Peter Jackson film interpretation of Tolkien's magnus opus, and not the work of Tolkien himself. One of the most obvious discrepancies between The Lord of the Rings and the film trilogy is that of the physical form of Sauron. In the film he is depicted as a gigantic floating eyeball wreathed about with fire and lightning. I imagine that this is because the people who made the film mistook Frodo's vision in the Mirror of Galadriel:

''In the black abyss there appeared a single Eye that slowly grew, until it filled nearly all the Mirror. So terrible was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to cry out or to withdraw his gaze. The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself glazed, yellow as a cat's, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book II, Chapter VII, The Mirror of Galadriel).

The Lord of the Rings itself contains no physical description of Sauron. I believe this to be a literary device of a sort (like the Eagles, or lembas (waybread, viaticum) - naturally miles are miles, and hunger and thirst are even so in Middle-earth, and lembas makes plausible long journeys in the wild on foot), a means of rendering the Dark Lord more menacing. The question remains, though: what did Sauron look like? It is a cogent question though difficult to answer, for Sauron had spent many ages in Middle-earth and could formerly assume many forms. Therefore it is behoveful that we look to the Ages of the legendarium to piece together a picture of the emissary of evil.

The Battle of Huan and Sauron, here in the form of a ''monster,'' I guess. Ted Nasmith.

As I have said hitherto, Sauron was in origin a Maia, of the people of Aulë the Smith, and is thus akin both to Saruman (who was also of the people of Aulë) and to Gandalf . As a Maia, he had certain inherent abilities, which to Men would appear ''magical,'' though to the Maiar they were just as natural as the ability to walk or to sing. Of these great was his power to change shape at will. In The Silmarillion, Sauron's ''own accustomed form'' seems to have been human - it was customary for the Ainur to imitate the form of the Children of Ilúvatar in their dealings with them, and insofar as the manifestation of the will of the fëa (spirit) corresponded to their Valinorean stature (cf. The History of Middle-earth, Volume X). For example the Diabolus Morgoth first descended upon Arda in girth and majesty greater than any of the Ainur, ''as a mountain that wades in the sea;'' Ulmo, Lord of Waters, could be seen as a mounting wave, etc. In the battle between Sauron and Huan the great Wolfhound of Valinor, Sauron was pinned down, and in his endeavour to escape he shifted shape, from wolf to serpent and thence to ''monster,'' and upon his defeat, fled in the form of a vampire bat, ''great as a dark cloud across the moon,'' dripping blood from his throat upon the trees. At the end of the First Age, dismayed by the downfall of the Diabolus Morgoth, Sauron abased himself and assumed the most beautiful form he could devise, and did obeisance to Eönwë the herald of Manwë. He would not, however, return in humiliation into the West to abide the judgement of the Valar for his service to Morgoth, and he hid himself in Middle-earth. His repentance, therefore (which was probably genuine, if only out of fear of the Valar), caused a greater relapse, until slowly, beginning with fair motives (the re-ordering of Middle-earth after the tumults of the War of Wrath, the rehabilitation of the wild Men ''neglected'' by the Valar, etc), he himself became a ''dark Lord.'' As one of the Maiar, however, indeed the greatest of the Maiar, he kept the power to change shape.

Early in the Second Age, the age of Númenor, Sauron appeared to the Elves of Eregion, exiled Gnomes who refused to return into the West, in his most beautiful form and took the name Annatar, Lord of Gifts, unto himself. His teaching was most enamoured of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the Jewel-smiths who followed Celebrimbor, for Sauron was skilled in craft, and under his teaching they wrought the Rings of Power. To all but the most wary his countenance was fair and wise, but some misdoubted his fair seeming - Galadriel rejected him, as did Elrond, and he was not welcome in Lindon. In this form Annatar was taken to Númenor as hostage of Ar-Pharazôn, the last king, and there he corrupted the Men to idolatry and the worship of Morgoth. In the tumults of the Downfall of Númenor Sauron's fair form was dragged down in the ruin of the temple of Morgoth, and destroyed, and his spirit fled back to Mordor on a cold dark wind. In the Dark Tower he fashioned for himself a new form, terrible to behold, and the form in which he wrought so great an evil he could never assume again. He could never again appear beautiful to Men. Interestingly, this mirrors Morgoth's declension from beauty and splendour into ugliness and impotence. Morgoth, who in the earliest days of Arda was brighter than the Sun and could drive all the Valar into retreat, became permanently incarnate and was, therefore, vulnerable and afraid, and waged war by means of subordinates and devices whilst remaining safe in the deepest depths of Angband - remember that he took up the challenge of Fingolfin perforce, enduring the names ''lord of carrion'' and ''wielder of thralls'' in the presence of his captains.

In the Battle of the Last Alliance, at the end of the Second Age, Sauron himself came forth after the Siege of Barad-dûr and wrestled with Gil-galad the Elven-king and Elendil of Númenor, slaying them both, but was himself overthrown, Isildur having cut the Great Ring from his hand. In his defeat he lost his physical form altogether, and we are told that: ''...he forsook his body, and his spirit fled far away and hid in waste places; and he took no visible shape again for many long years.''

During the first millennium of the Third Age Sauron remained impotent and invisible in the wild, until he returned to Dol-Guldur in the south of Greenwood the Great. We know nothing of his appearance at this time, the ''Shadow of Sauron,'' except that he exerted vast influence and dark things crept back to him, the great forest became the haunt of dark things, and was named anew; Mirkwood it became. It would appear that without the Ring, which was lost, he could not fashion for himself a new form, or would not. Even after his return to Mordor he would not even permit the Orcs to use his name on their devices or in parlance beyond his realm, something which Aragorn noted after the death of Boromir when examining the livery of the soldiery of Saruman (though since the lieutenant of the Dark Tower declared himself the ''Mouth of Sauron'' is is likely that either Aragorn's information was obsolete, if indeed this is not an inconsistency in the story).

Towards the end of the Third Age, when Bilbo found the Ring in Gollum's cave, Sauron was driven out of Mirkwood by the White Council and returned again to Mordor, though his flight was feigned and his return long-prepared by the Nazgûl. He must, by this time, have created for himself a new form. By the end of the Third Age, with the onset and duration of the War of the Ring, Sauron did indeed have a physical, human form. As I have said heretofore, there are no descriptions given anywhere in The Lord of the Rings, and people are often confused by constant references to the ''Eye of Sauron,'' and the ''Eye of Barad-dûr.'' There are cases where this is clearly figurative, but others it would appear that Tolkien equates the Eye with Sauron himself - as seems to be the case with Frodo's vision in the Mirror of Galadriel; ''the Red Eye will be looking towards Isengard,'' and all that.

However, Sauron clearly had a real physical, human form. Gollum, who had seen the Dark Lord in person, said: ''He has only four [fingers] on the Black Hand, but they are enough.'' Furthermore, there are other references which indicate Sauron's ability to travel around freely such as Denethor's remonstrance with Pippin that Sauron would not leave the Dark Tower until he came to triumph over him, or, curiously, Aragorn's command that the lord of the Black Land must come forth to abide the judgement of the King.

The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, however, procure the answer to the question we asked at the beginning of this post.

''Sauron must be thought of as very terrible. The form that he took was that of a man of more than human stature, but not gigantic.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, no.246).

My supposition is that the ''Eye of Sauron'' must be seen as a metaphor for his constant vigilance - it could even refer to the Palantír of Minas Ithil which he had seized in the overthrow of that city. It would certainly explain why Denethor was driven mad, and Frodo saw the glazed yellow eye - for Sauron exerted great command over the Palantíri, and could make those who foolishly dared to look into them see only what he wanted them to see - unless they had a will of adamant and could wrest the stone from him.

So there we are. Someone (actually a number of people) suggested I do a doctorate ''in Tolkien.'' Anybody have any suggestions as to what exactly?

A new book...

2011-11-17T18:11:00.002Z

I don't read The New Liturgical Movement much anymore. I daresay I find the tendency of that 'blog to elevate form over substance quite irksome (you know, ''look at the lace!'' or ''bishop celebrates Palm Sunday Mass in the usus antiquior with beautiful Roman cut red vestments'', and blah, blah, blah), though I daresay that every so often they post something of interest. Gregory DiPippo's articles are always worth reading, possibly because cloaked beneath the tact and the diplomacy is someone with eyes that see both deep and far - much like Rubricarius, and very unlike our now-dormant liturgical pimp friend. I wonder if the writers of The New Liturgical Movement know I exist? Oft am I taken aback at the reports Sitemeter generate for me everyday.

Anyway my friend sent me news today of a new book about that illustrious man Dr Adrian Fortescue. The Latin Clerk: The Life, Work and Travels of Adrian Fortescue by Aidan Nichols promises to be an interesting read, and something which dispels the myth of the Sackville-Bagginses that Adrian Fortescue was some kind of proto-Traditionalist (though some hold to the view that he was a ''Modernist'' because he rejected the Oath against Modernity!). See here.

The King James Bible...

2011-11-16T12:50:00.003Z

As you may know the year of Our Lord 2011 marks the 400th year since the publication of the Authorized Version, otherwise known as the King James Bible. Manuscript English bibles had been in circulation since the days of the Lollards, and the Authorized Version was the third official translation of the Word of God into English, the first having been Henry Tudor's Great Bible (with its famous frontispiece), the work of Myles Coverdale, one time rector of St Magnus the Martyr; and the Bishops Bible of 1568. The Gospel and Epistle pericopes for the Lord's Supper were revised in the Prayer Book of 1662 to bring them into line with the Authorized Version, but Coverdale's psalmody remained. I have heard it said that the Douay-Rheims version influenced the scholars who translated the King James Bible, but I have no source for that.

A service of commemoration was held this day at Westminster Abbey in the presence of Her Majesty The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh to mark the anniversary. I am trying to think of familiar modern phrases which come from the Authorized Version, but I can only think of Tyndale's ''Let there be light.'' Suggestions in the combox please!

Traddies and Neo-Conservatives...

2011-11-15T10:53:00.002Z

Fr Chadwick over at English Catholic has written a very apposite post warning Poping Anglicans against the Roman communion - at least that's how I read it. The general thrust of the post is that there is no room for any semblance of Anglican tradition, or ''patrimony,'' in the Roman church - just blindly obey the new orthodoxy wrought and propounded by the contemporary Magisterium (expressed in the will and whim of the Holy Father), you know, Ordinary and Extraordinary forms, etc, and you're laughing. Like me and you want something more than a commonplace cotta every Sunday and you're held in suspicion, until something else convenient comes up and you're thrust out.

Nowadays I am of the opinion that the neo-conservatives are more dangerous than the Traddies. Traditionalists are at least at variance to some degree with Rome; many want to see the ''Old Rite'' in whatever recognisable form in situ again, even if the ornaments and the rubrics are rather modern. Some express private dismay at the precepts of Summorum Pontificum, seeing it as a temporary measure, a means to an end, conciliatory to the $$PX, or whatever. Some are dangerous and want 1962 all over again. To the neo-conservatives, however, to whom the expressions ordinary and extraordinary form comes as second nature, Tradition means nothing. To them obedience to the Magnisterium comes first, conscience and knowledge of the Truth second - they are irrelevant. That Tradition has an auctoritas independent of the reigning pope is a concept that does not enter into their small minds, enthralled to the totalitarian pope and his retinue of sycophants in the Vatican.

Upon the Double Murder of King Charles...

2011-11-13T18:44:00.002Z

Great Charles his double misery was this,
Unfaithful friends, ignoble enemies;
Had any heathen been this prince's foe,
He would have wept to see him injured so.
(Katherine Philips, 1632-1664).

Lest we forget...

2011-11-11T11:28:00.002Z

Numquam mortuorum obliviscemur.

Flos, flos, florem...

2011-11-08T17:28:00.002Z

As a sort of ''update'' to my latest post on the Octave of All Saints, here is my account of my visit to Westminster Cathedral two years ago on the occasion of the visit of the relics of St Thérèse of Lisieux. It is interesting to see how much my views have changed since then, particularly about Roman Catholicism in general (especially in this country), and the saints. I remain, as I said then, convinced that that was one of the great events of my life, and proof enough for me that St Thérèse of Lisieux was indeed saint Thérèse, whatever others say. Such feelings as I expressed then are simply not inspired by the bones of men, and it was no counterfeit of the Enemy.

On the Octave of All Saints...

2011-11-08T16:23:00.003Z

(which, in proud defiance of Papal authority, we continue to celebrate here)...

I found this image ages ago, presumably depicting a meeting between St Dominic and St Francis of Assisi. Some Orthodox believe that St Francis of Assisi was possessed of devils and find the very idea of stigmata a blasphemy. I am undecided. St Francis was the saint I chose at my Confirmation twelve years ago and, despite being rather embarrassed by that these days, he remains one of my patrons. While being crypto-Orthodox I do not believe that all the saints of the Roman Church canonized after 1054 are heretics; many of them were just as holy and heroic as Orthodox ones. I have, for example, a special place in my heart for St Thomas of Canterbury, and even rather late, simple ones like St Thérèse of Lisieux whose relics I visited two years ago in Westminster Cathedral. The Dominicans, at any rate, enriched the liturgical patrimony of the Roman Rite (are there not similarities between their liturgical books and those of the illustrious cathedral church of Sarum? did they not number Sundays after Trinity, for example?), and many among the more distinguished theologians of that Order (such as St Thomas Aquinas) were opposed to such things as immaculate conceptions, well into the 19th century. We can't really say the same for the Franciscans, who were (and remain) a very aliturgical bunch - at least the ones I've met. The sons of St Francis valued poverty as an end, not a means, and there was never much scope for sung Office and high Mass among itinerant friars who were seldom even allowed to own liturgical books. Instead they adopted the abridged rite of the court of Innocent III and took this across Europe. The little I know of that process would be reckoned a matter of tears were men gathered for the telling of tales.

Still, a very blessed Octave to you all. St Dominic, St Francis and all the Saints, pray for us.

Vespers this Wednesday...

2011-11-07T17:39:00.005Z

I cordially recommend going to the church of St Magnus the Martyr on Wednesday evening for Vespers of the Dead with the Funeral Sentences of the Prayerbook, if you can. Last year was superb. I took the photo last year.

That's Wednesday 9th November at 6:30pm. Refreshments to follow!

From the Litany...

2011-11-05T13:50:00.002Z

From all sedicion and prievie conspiracie, from the tyranny of the Bysshop of Rome and al hys detestable enormities, from all false doctrine and heresy, from hardnesse of hearte, and contempte of thy woorde and commaundemente, Good Lorde, deliver us. (The Litany from the 1552 Book of Common Prayer).

Remember, remember...

2011-11-05T13:18:00.004Z

I trust that English members of the Roman church, being loyal to the Crown, will be celebrating the deliverance of this nation from the tyranny of the Bishop of Rome today? Blessed John Tolkien was loyal to the Crown for all his life, and upon receiving his CBE medal from Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth at Buckingham Palace he wrote to his publisher and friend Rayner Unwin: ''But I was very deeply moved by my brief meeting with The Queen, & our few words together. Quite unlike anything that I had expected.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, 30th March 1972).

Almighty God, who hast in all ages shewed thy power and mercy in the miraculous and gracious deliverance of thy Church, and in the protection of righteous and religious Kings and States, professing thy holy and eternal truth, from the wicked conspiracies and malicious practices of all the enemies thereof; We yield thee our unfeigned thanks and praise for the wonderful and mighty deliverance of our late gracious Sovereign King James, the Queen, the Prince, and all the Royal Branches, with the Nobility, Clergy, and Commons of England, then assembled in Parliament, by Popish treachery appointed as sheep to the slaughter, in a most barbarous, and savage manner, beyond the examples of former ages. From this unnatural conspiracy, not our merit, but thy mercy; not our foresight, but thy providence, delivered us: And therefore, not unto us, O Lord, not unto us; but unto thy Name be ascribed all honour and glory in all Churches of the saints, from generation to generation, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Sts Charles I, King and Martyr, Edward the Confessor, Edmund the Martyr, and all the Saints, pray for us.

A.D 2012 Ordines...

2011-11-04T14:03:00.006Z

The Ordo Recitandi for the year of the Lord 2012, published by the St Lawrence Press, is now available for despatch. See here. I encourage readers to support the St Lawrence Press. The Ordo gives you a measure of the Catholic kalendar of saints days and the temporal cycle before the ravages of heathen men destroyed them.

St Lawrence and all the Saints, pray for us.

''Pope of the Liturgy''...

2011-11-01T22:37:00.003Z

Four years ago I visited Dublin. It was 21st August, the feast of Pius X in the New Kalendar. I went to Mass in a Roman church where a priest said ''a few suitable words'' (as the Shire hobbits would say) about what old Pius had done for the good of the Liturgy - nothing worth repeating, I daresay. I went on afterwards to the Cathedral church of St Patrick (in the Church of Ireland, the church of my grandmother), where they put on a respectable Evensong. When the Minor Canon got to the Collect ''O God, from whom all holy desires...'' I burst out laughing because the irony of the Roman priest's words returned to me. ''Deus, a quo sancta desideria...'' was, of course, a Collect sung at Lauds and Vespers in the Roman Office before the 1911-1913 reform. The preces too can be found in the traditional Roman Office (the Prayerbook having the liturgical books of old Sarum as the source). What's ironic about it? Well, if you want a taste of the traditional Roman Office, why not just go to the local Anglican church where they put on Prayerbook Evensong!

Actually I haven't been to Dublin for close to 10 years. This was a story told to me by a very good friend of mine - it sounds better when told in the first person. It is, as you know, the feast of All Saints (a blessed feast to you all), and the first centenary of Pius X's bull Divino Afflatu, which relegated the traditional offices of the Breviary to the stacks of Cathedral libraries and the private collection of liturgical scholars. Who controls the present controls the past, and all that. Rorate Caeli have thought it fitting to mark the centenary, though after a manner disconsonant with the very names they name unto themselves, of ''catholic'' and ''traditional.'' See here.

I must say my favourite quote from Divino Afflatu, by which old Sarto cast odium upon the tradition of the Church, is this:

This we publish, declare, sanction, decreeing that these our letters always are and shall be valid and effective, notwithstanding apostolic constitutions and ordinances, general and special, and everything else whatsoever to the contrary. Wherefore, let nobody infringe or dare to oppose this page of our abolition, revocation, permission, ordinance, precept, statue, indult, mandate and will. But if anybody shall presume to attempt this let him know that he will incur the indignation of almighty God and of his apostles the blessed Peter and Paul.

J.R.R Tolkien thought that the reform of Pius X was the greatest of his lifetime, ''surpassing anything, however needed, that the Council will achieve.'' He was writing in 1963, after the reforms of Holy Week by Pius XII. I wonder what he thought, nigh a century ago, when he went to Mass on Sunday expecting the feast of so-and-so and his priest came from the vestry in green vestments? When I do my doctorate in Tolkien I aim to investigate such questions. I think that, little though this might seem, they reflect upon his work. More on this in a later post. I am tired, it's been a long day (having been up since half past four), and I have another early start (and late night) tomorrow.

Ecumenical...

2011-10-30T11:48:00.003Z

I visit many churches, and know many Christians of different confessions. I don't quite fit into any of them anymore - if anything I guess I would feel most comfortable as a Mediaeval English Catholic, though that world is dead, and gone, and can only be pieced together in such places as Westminster Abbey where Common Worship is used on Sundays and feasts. I go regularly to an Anglo-Catholic church for Sunday Mass, though I can't say that I identify with either Baroque liturgy or most Anglicans. I have great sympathy with ''Western Rite Orthodoxy,'' though I am genuinely appalled at most attempts at ''Western'' liturgy by most Orthodox, and find their prejudice against everything ''Western'' more than just a bit ignorant.

Today is one of those days where you just wish that the Papacy had died out centuries ago, along with other less pernicious heresies. It is, of course, the pseudo-feast of ''Christ the King,'' and is, as Rubricarius points out, one of those more spectacular occasions where one pope contradicts another in the space of less than 15 years. If Papal authority is such a good thing, what is the use of such authority when it is scarce consistent, and one pope can undo the work of another at the stroke of a pen? If Tradition is so inextricably linked up with the will of the pope, then I marvel that the Roman Church has any tradition intact, since the popes are so wayward and have no love for it. It was hard for me, even as a ''traditionalist,'' to get enthusiastic about a feast no more than six years older than my grandmother, and fraught with so much reactionary theology. Does anybody give a crap about the ''social kingship'' of Christ as expounded in the writings of Pius XI? Lace cottas, Fatima shrines, Jesuits lurking in the shadows, name your cliché. It's all just tacky and dangerous, and it fills me with wrath.

Roman Catholics out there seem to think that my eschewing of the Papacy is something as strange and crooked in me as something else which I don't let on about. Perhaps I just can't get my head around looking thither to solve all the liturgical problems of this world, since it seems to me that the Papacy was to blame in the first place. Unless I am quite mistaken, every minute change in Liturgy and ''canon law'' was at the will and command of the pope. But no, we'll just carry on with our Joseph the Workers, and our Signum Magnums and let on, to ourselves and to the world, that what we're doing is genuinely for the good of the Church. I mean, if it's in Latin, and the altar has six candlesticks and a crucifix, it doesn't really matter whether you face the right way, or you use liturgical texts composed by some pen pusher in the Vatican, scanned over and over by a team of experts for heresy, does it? Just feel smug in your deluded sense of Tradition and look down your nose at schismatics and other non-Ultramontane types. What is Tradition compared with the will of the Dark Tower, the Holy Father, even...

For such reasons, and others, I doubt I shall ever pray with Roman Catholics again. It is their obstinacy in heresy, particularly their beliefs about the Papacy and 20th century liturgy - this is the crux of the whole argument. The Lutheran image above pretty much sums up my personal beliefs about the Papacy.

Vocabulary...

2011-10-27T14:23:00.002+01:00

''Life is rather above the measure of us all (save for a very few perhaps). We all need literature that is above our measure - though we may not have sufficient energy for it all the time. But the energy of youth is usually greater. Youth needs then less than adulthood or Age what is down to its (supposed) measure. But even in Age I think we only are really moved by what is at least in some point or aspect above us, above our measure, at any rate before we have read it and 'taken it in.' Therefore do not write down to Children or to anybody. Not even in language. Though it would be a good thing if that great reverence which is due to children took the form of eschewing the tired and flabby cliches of adult life. But an honest word is an honest word, and its acquaintance can only be made by meeting it in a right context. A good vocabulary is not acquired by reading books written according to some notion of the vocabulary of one's age-group. It comes from reading books above one.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, April of A.D 1959).

Quid plura dicam?

St Frideswide of Oxford...

2011-10-22T16:43:00.002+01:00

I'm sorry I neglected to publish this, but this post is for my Oxonian readers. On the 19th October it was the festival of St Frideswide of Oxford, a Royal Abbess, c. A.D 650-19th October 727. The little we know about her life can be found in the South English Legendary, a 13th century hagriographic manuscript preserved (largely) in the Bodleian Library. According to the legendarium she eluded the clutches of a noble suitor, and made her life as a recluse at Bisney. She later founded a priory where Christ Church Cathedral stands today.

Liturgiae Causa is under the patronage of J.R.R Tolkien and a host of old English saints, such as Sts Augustine, Bede, Edward the Confessor, Margaret of Scotland, Æthelwold of Winchester, Aidan, Cedd of Lastingham, etc. May they bless this work and amend it.

Every blessing of pure virginity is preserved only in the fastness of a free mind, rather than in the more limited state of being physically intact. Enforced imposition upon the body can never undermine the blessing secured by an unshakeable free will.

St Augustine confirms this most elegantly when he declares: ''the sanctity of the body remains if the sanctity of the soul is intact, even when the body is overcome. Equally the sanctity of the body is lost if the purity of the soul is surrendered, even if the body remains physically intact.'' Elswhere he says that ''virginity of the heart is an unsullied faith.'' (St Aldhelm - De Virginitate).

Lotho...

2011-10-19T12:08:00.003+01:00

It seems that Lotho of that awful, awful 'blog Rorate Caeli is praising the work of Pius X, the pope of the Liturgy, and his bull Divino Afflatu, now in its centenary year. My contribution, ''vile'' and bethought of ''bitterness'' apparently, was sadly removed. Please forgive this old traditionalist if he is less than enthusiastic about the legacy of a man who wrought more damage in the Roman Church at the stroke of a pen than anyone up to that time. Pius X is no saint, though he was canonized by Pius XII as the wheels of his great engine to drive out Tradition were turning in the offices of the Lateran. And what are the implications of that? It was not in idle fancy that the order of psalmody of the Hours, an order probably known to Our Lord Himself in the Temple, was overturned. Maybe others who know of this unfortunate reform attribute sentiments and intentions other than pure malice and the intoxication of power to Sarto, but knowing something of the history of Liturgy, and the dealings of the popes therewith, one cannot help but wonder whether that bloated Office has served any good end in the West for a very long time. A very long time indeed.

Never mind. God alone sees all ends, so I'll just surrender judgement of those men in scarlet and white, dwelling on the city with seven hills, etc, to Him. The link to Rorate Caeli has now been removed from my blogroll. I'm surprised it took this long.

The photo (which hitherto I have never seen) is of Pius X, dead or dying on his deathbed, clutching a crucifix. I would say ''blessed are the dead which die in the Lord,'' but I can't; I just can't.

The Prayer of Humble Access...

2011-10-18T18:40:00.003+01:00

Non accedimus ad hanc mensam tuam, O misericors Domine, fiducia iustitiæ nostræ, sed in multitudine miserationum tuarum. Neque enim sumus digni, ut colligamus micas de mensa tua. Sed tu es idem Dominus, cuius semper proprium fuit misereri. Concede igitur, misericors Domine, ut sic edamus Carnem Filii tui, et bibamus eius Sanguinem in his Sacris Mysteriis, ut nostra corpora peccatis inquinata munda fiant perceptione Sacratissimi Corporis sui, et nostræ animæ laventur in Præcioso Sanguine suo: ut perpetuo habitemus in eo, et ipse in nobis. Amen.

From the Liber Precum Publicarum, 1560.

A priest in the Church of England...

2011-10-18T13:36:00.005+01:00

There is another, more thoughtful, post in preparation, but I am very busy and so it will have to wait. In the meanwhile it went to my heart to read this post over at Fr Chadwick's 'blog, Words from a Church of England Cleric (about the Ordinariate). Here is a sample.

I can’t see myself in this ordinariate, much as I welcomed the news of its establishment (and forthcoming “erection” – which word, along with “formation” and “evangelization”, distinguishes the true believer) when I first heard it. The first big shock was to be told that my ordination would be deferred until I had spent a year or so being “mentored” (as part of my “formation”) to familiarize me with the life of the Diocese of Middlesbrough. I had seen my vocation as ministering to C of E members who were on their way out, especially the ordinary middle-England Anglicans whom I have worked with all my life, helping to construct an authentic Anglican home for us in communion with Rome (united, not absorbed), maintaining close contact with those C of E congregations and clergy who had not decided to come out, and sharing with them as much as could be shared. When I hinted at my hopes, the Ordinary and his minder were emphatic that such a thing was unthinkable: You will not be an Anglican, you will be a Catholic. In other words, Come out from among them, and be clean; continuity is not to be looked for, and a complete break with the past is required. They said the C of E would not allow the borrowing of parish churches, but the truth is that they do not really want it themselves, unless it can be done in a watertight “we are Catholics” kind of way. (I know there are clergy round here who would have allowed the occasional or even regular use of an altar, without any edict from above.)

There is no patrimony, no tradition, or culture in the Roman church. Just a vast, hideous lust for the centralization of all things to Rome. Rome has lost her sense of tradition, but seems to confess herself an authority over all other traditions, which have come into being in spite of her. She is filled with intolerance and rage, enraged by the very existence of traditions other than the currently-defined Ordinary and Extraordinary Forms. The reason the Prayerbook and the Authorized Version contain ''errors'' is because they didn't come from Rome. The reason the New Translation of the Missale Romanum is better than the language of Miles Coverdale and Thomas Cranmer is because they weren't curial sycophants in the Vatican, stupefied by the Ultramontane drug. All Rome seeks to do by the Ordinariate is swallow up what is left of the Anglican liturgical patrimony and to spit it back into your face, saying: ''this is your tradition, the one I've just made for you.''

And all these people vainly suppose that the Ordinariate is the greatest thing since Summorum Pontificum, and that Benedict XVI is some kind of hero of ecumenism and liturgical renewal. Well, so far he's doing a bang up job: first there's the liturgical books of 1962, regularised and made immemorial ''tradition'' at the stroke of a pen, notwithstanding the liturgical legislation of his predecessors from the 1960s which demonstrably contradict Benedict's claims. Then there's this new translation, as banal, pretentious and artificial as the Benedictine altar arrangement. I'm sorry but you either face the right way, or you face the wrong way - what difference does a row of candles and a crucifix make? And then the Ordinariate itself. Rome, as generous, benevolent and as wise as a mother reaching out to estranged children. ''Come to me,'' saith she, ''and I will preserve your traditions.'' What a crock of shit!

A Reading List...

2011-10-17T14:18:00.003+01:00

I always do this, but I just can't help myself. I am planning on doing some earnest research into the period of early to mid 19th century Liturgy in English and Irish Roman Catholic (and possibly Anglican) cathedral and collegiate churches and seminaries. Can anybody recommend a reading list?

Principle and Compromise...

2011-10-16T19:58:00.004+01:00

''From high places it is easy to fall low.'' (J.R.R Tolkien).

I spent a beautiful day yesterday with a dear friend of mine, who understands me better than many who are accounted wise, even those who have known me for many years. On my way home I bumped into someone else, an acquaintance from my Traditionalist days. Neither of us had much to say to the other, and upon taking leave of each other I was conscious of two things: that I had verily ''burnt the bridges,'' and that I had done good business having done so. A lot of people accuse me of fanaticism and intemperance; that I spend my time criticizing others about the celebration of Liturgy, whilst I do not actually contribute anything myself in the manner of organising practical Liturgy, conferences, training, research, or whatever. Well, that's too bad. Years ago, when I took an active part in parish liturgical life, nobody took any notice of me, and the only decision I ever got to make was over the choice of one type of Roman cut chasuble over another. My suggestion of Terce before Mass on Sundays fell upon deaf ears, for example, not to mention a host of kalendrial disagreements, ornaments, rubrics, ceremonial and, of course, lace ornamentation.

Heretofore I have let it be known that I am autistic. This was detected by an obscure paediatrician at a child guidance clinic 18 years ago. Be that as it may, my mother would have none of it, and with painfully strict correction (''look at me when I am talking to you, Patrick; LOOK at me!''), I have more or less led a ''normal'' life, and I strive every day not to live under the label, and to live life according to the social and moral principles upon which society is builded. Nevertheless I have my own principles which I will not compromise, nor will I have anything to do with people who oppose them. What was it that Erendis said to Ancalimë? ''Sink your roots into the rock and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.'' (I put the sense into my own words because I am sundered from my Tolkien books). This quote may demonstrate the problem.

''As children develop, they become more mature and skilled in the art of persuasion, compromise and management of conflict. They are increasingly able to understand the perspective of other people and how to influence their thoughts and emotions using constructive strategies. Managing conflict successfully requires considerable T[heory]o[f]M[ind] skills, therefore one would expect difficulties in conflict resolution for children and adults with Asperger's syndrome. Observations and experience of conflict situations suggest that children with Asperger's syndrome are relatively immature, lack variety in negotiating tools and tend to be confrontational. They may resort to 'primitive' conflict management strategies, such as emotional blackmail or an inflexible adherence to their own point of view. They may fail to understand that they would be more likely to achieve what they want by being nice to the other person. When an argument or altercation is over, the person with Asperger's syndrome may also show less remorse, or appreciation of repair mechanisms for other people's feelings, such as an apology.'' (Tony Attwood, The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome).

I don't know what it is. Perhaps neuro-typical people have struck some balance between principle and compromise to which I simply cannot aspire. I know from experience that arguments I've had with people always end up with a great degree of resentment or estrangement, on both sides. Whereas I am bewildered by arguments others have had, where later they are seen to be getting on as though nothing has happened.

In the universal endeavour to restore ''traditional Liturgy'' (whatever that may be) it behoves all of us who love Truth and the Tradition of the Church to cultivate various qualities; honesty, patience, forbearance, hard work, etc. I bided my time, waited for a change of days, of dispositions, and prayed earnestly, but came to nothing. This was precisely because I was working with, and praying with, people who didn't desire with their hearts the things of my own. I desired the tradition of the Church unmolested by the will and commands of the pope; they didn't. I desired the spirit and patrimony of the Middle Ages; they didn't. These were Roman Catholics, those Ultramontane types who prefer intellectual assent to the pontifications of a foreign bishop with a bloated office to the actual Tradition of the Church. With many a Sieg Heil to encyclical this, motu proprio that, and it's 1955 all over again. Problem solved! I have reached the stage now where I wish them ill and that all their works perish from this world - that may well be realised when the next pope comes along and renders all the liturgical legislation of the current one void. I tried other communions but to a great extent they just emulated the problems of the Traddies.

The parish church of St Margaret the Queen at Old Buxted. St Margaret is, incidentally, one of the patron saints of this 'blog.

So with whom, exactly, do I work to restore the tradition of the Church, when few seem to agree with me? The restoration of Liturgy is, in spite of the prejudice of the Sackville-Bagginses, an ecumenical affair, as much the province of Anglicans as Orthodox and Roman Catholics alike. Yesterday I was stood in a house chapel, no bigger than a walk-in wardrobe, and I thought then that the Church was verily driven into new catacombs, and that it had gone unnoticed by the great mass of many who claim, or aspire to, the name Catholic. If the Church is indeed to be found at all then I daresay it is in tiny pockets of liturgical orthodoxy around the world. In which case the work of restoration is indeed going to be hard. My friend and I were talking about the history of Liturgy on the way to a 13th century country church yestereve. We both agreed that it was a sad story, ''as are all the tales of Middle-earth,'' as Aragorn said. What saddens me is that most people don't see it, and seem bent on the exaltation of a period and ethos in the Church opposed to the spirit of the Sacred Liturgy. In sooth then did Tolkien utter those words.

The painting (by Ted Nasmith) depicts Maglor, one of the Sons of Fëanor, casting a Silmaril into the Great Sea. It is haunting for me since it depicts the ''end'' of the Elder Days, and I spent a good while thinking about it today. Those of you who remember the terrible oath of Fëanor and his seven sons might glean some similarity with my thoughts...

Rest eternal...

2011-10-14T18:12:00.003+01:00

The church of St Magnus the Martyr at London Bridge will be celebrating Vespers of the Dead with the Funeral Sentences of the Prayerbook on Wednesday 9th November at 6:30pm. I encourage you to put this into your diaries; last year was splendid. Thanks to Ex Fide.

I appreciate that the image is not of the Vigiliae Mortuorum or of Vespers, but it is beautiful and I have never used it before.

Middle-earth...

2011-10-13T20:10:00.003+01:00

The Oxford English Dictionary defines ''Middle-earth'' as ''the world regarded as a middle region between Heaven and Hell, or as occupying the centre of the Universe.'' As you know, it is no more an invention of Tolkien's than Dwarf, Elf or Gnome, and he certainly did not use the term to convey the idea of an imaginary world. In a letter to W.H Auden, he wrote:

''I am historically minded. Middle-earth is not an imaginary world. The name is the modern form (appearing in the 13th century and still in use) of midden-erd>middel-erd, an ancient name for the oikoumené [from which, as you know, is derived ''ecumenical''], the abiding place of Men, the objectively real world, in use specifically opposed to imaginary worlds (as Fairyland) or unseen worlds (as Heaven or Hell). The theatre of my tale is this earth, the one in which we now live, but the historical period is imaginary.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, no.183).

According to The Ring of Words by Gilliver, Marshall and Weiner, the compound has a long history and pre-history. It is a Germanic formation, found in the oldest Germanic language Gothic, raised to the eminence of liturgical use and of which Tolkien was enamoured, as early as the 4th century in the form midjun-gards, meaning, roughly, ''the middle enclosed region.'' The Old Norse equivalent was Miðgarðr or Midgard, referring to the world of Men between the encircling seas, accounted one of a number of separate regions, such as the more familiar Ásgarðr or Asgard, the dwelling place of the gods.

In Old English, between the 8th-12th centuries, the form was middangeard, which meant simply, as Tolkien says, ''the world in which we live.'' This form appears both in the Old English translation of St Bede's Ecclesiastical History (in Cædmon's hymn, which refers to the Creation of the World), and in the poem Crist of Cynewulf, even so:

Éala, Éarendel, engla beorhtast, ofer middangeard monnum sended. (Hail Earendel, brightest of angels, over Middle-earth sent unto men). Compare Frodo's invocation in the Pass of Cirith Ungol, far from the living lands: Aiya Eärendil, elenion ancalima!

This verse of Christian poetry was the seed of Tolkien's legendarium. Tolkien attributed the name Earendel to St John the Baptist, who served to herald the advent of the Lord. I will not belabour the obvious parallel with Eärendil the Mariner, who was the herald of the Two Kindreds, but it is nevertheless, in my opinion, another example of Tolkien's genius, at once to so meaningfully connect the legends of Eä with Christianity, but more specifically, with Christianity of an English flavour. From the Voyage of Eärendil to the symbolism of the ennoblement of the simple in the character Samwise Gamgee, Tolkien's legendarium is at once thoroughly Catholic, and thoroughly English.

By the beginning of the 14th century, the form had changed, and in Middle English the form was ''Middle-earth.''

Tolkien did not use the term Middle-earth in the earliest writings of the Legendarium. In The Lost Tales, for example, Tolkien refers to what later became Middle-earth as the Great Lands, the Outer Lands, or the Hither Lands. Neither does Middle-earth appear in The Hobbit. It appears that Tolkien adopted the term in the mid-1930s; we can glean this from its occurrence in the Anglo-Saxon Annals of Valinor found in Volume IV of The History of Middle-earth. I like the form personally, it is fitting philologically and geographically, but I also use the terms Outer Lands or Great Lands - if only in mere comparison to the smaller, but pleasanter, land of Aman in the West. The term ''the Outer Lands'' has a rather negative connotation, quite deliberate I am sure, adopted by the Eldar of Tirion to denote the cold lands under the domination of the Dark Lord, who came from Outside.

St Edward the Confessor, pray for us.

Art: Ted Nasmith.

The duty of a Christian King...

2011-10-13T14:07:00.003+01:00

In the name of the Holy Trinity, I promise three things to the Christian people, my subjects:

First, that God's Church and all Christian people within my dominions shall experience true peace.

Second, that I forbid robbery and all crime to every class of people.

Third, I promise and order laws based on justice and mercy, that the gracious and merciful God may forgive us all our sins.

The duty of a Christian king is to judge no one corruptly, to defend widows, orphans and strangers, and to abolish immoral marriages. He must drive out those who practice magic, and who murder their kin, or commit perjury. He must feed the needy, and have old and experienced men for his counsellors, appointing honest servants. He will be answerable on the Day of Judgement for the crimes of his servants done in his name. (From the Coronation Oath, preserved in tact from the time of St Edward the Confessor).

A very happy feast day to you all.

Gender ''equality''...

2011-10-12T20:34:00.003+01:00

I am by no means a misogynist, but I find issues of ''gender equality'' to be rather irksome; a host of ungodly, irreligious folk shaking off the last remnant of the traditional order of family, society and government, and to what end? So that masculine, ugly women can wear leather in public, and fill an employment role aforetime reserved solely to men? It was little more than a century ago that Pius X said that only men and boys were permitted to sing in church - something I believe Pius XII reversed a few decades later? What do Traddie women say to that, I wonder?

I don't think that women should even wear trousers if I am quite frank, so you can imagine what I think of this. Mr Cameron is apparently beginning the formal process of reversing ancient, though ''discriminatory,'' laws on the issue of male primogeniture in the Royal Family. Is no institution or law, hallowed by ancientry and the witness of the Christian faith, safe from the marauding fingers of the relativism and atheism of our day? Destroyers and usurpers! I sincerely hope that Her Majesty opposes this ridiculous move. It is inspired not by issues of ''equality,'' but by the Devil's subtle promptings. Only Truth sets us at liberty.

I am proud to be politically INcorrect - you cannot be Catholic otherwise. Pray God, and to St Edward the Confessor whose festival and Octave we are now celebrating, that the Monarchy, the last real remnant of our Christian national patrimony, is left unmolested by these disoriented people. Let the Saints look to it!

Edwardtide...

2011-10-12T19:43:00.002+01:00

Edwardtide (the Octave of St Edward the Confessor) began this afternoon at Westminster Abbey, and I was present for Evensong (broadcast live on BBC Radio 3). I shall be busy on Saturday with other commitments, and so I shall miss the National Pilgrimage to the shrine of the Confessor, but I encourage readers to go along for any day of the Octave. The Abbey, unlike the grotesque pseudo-Byzantine edifice ten minutes up the road, tends to do Liturgy rather well.

For more information see the Westminster Abbey website.

Comment...

2011-10-12T19:24:00.003+01:00

Blogger is being its usual self and won't publish comments. Below is a comment left by a reader (he is in fact a Lector in the Orthodox Church) in my post Please do as I say!

I fully accept that Han was using the words ‘sin’ and ‘discipline’ in a Roman Catholic sense for the purpose of argument. According to his own, earlier, explanation—this was “Because Catholics tend to talk about sin in forensic categories, and because Catholics have historically dealt with fasting ‘discipline,’ as JM put it in his post, within the framework of sin”. Indeed, in his most recent post, Han mentioned another example of Roman Catholic legalism: the distinction it attempts to make between “mortal” and “venial” sins. No real criticism of Han was intended on my part; and, again, I commend him on, what I considered, a most erudite exposition. My only concern was that Orthodox readers—understanding ‘sin’ and ‘discipline’ in the sense that the Church does—might take exception.

I must also commend Han on having pre-empted me: he selected the very same two passages that I should have chosen in a response to Bryan. I think that those passages speak for themselves. Nevertheless, the pedant in me cannot resist the temptation of questioning the translation of the Prayer of St John Chrysostom that Han quoted. Following that translation, I am required to state that “I confess that Thou art truly the Christ, the Son of the living God, who CAMEST into the world to save sinners, of whom I am first.” The word that I have emphasized indicates the use of the second-person singular at that point. This represents a serious grammatical error: the THIRD-person singular should have been used. First, one addresses Christ in the second person: “I confess that Thou art truly the Christ, the Son of the living God”. One then states what He is: “[He] who CAME into the world to save sinners, of whom I am first.” One may find numerous examples of the correct use of this particular construction in the Coverdale Psalter and the Authorised Version of the Bible. The translation of this prayer with which I am most familiar uses of sin the expressions “witting and unwitting” and “known and unknown”. These strike me as more satisfyingly Anglo-Saxon.

Finally—lest I be accused of hypocrisy—, I must bring myself to task. I stated that “The amount of food eaten at any particular meal-time has never been restricted by the Canons of the Church.” I have, since, recalled that both the Typikon and the Lenten Triodion specify that at the end of the Vesperal Liturgy of St Basil on Holy and Great Saturday the cellarer is to distribute six figs or dates to each of the brethren. That is in addition to a specified amount of bread and quantity of wine.

Nevertheless, it is a moot point whether this particular collation represents a “meal” as such. It is analogous to the distribution of bread and wine during the ‘Great Reading’ between Great Vespers and Mattins at an All-Night Vigil. Exactly the same prayer of blessing is used—though on Holy Saturday there is no blessing of oil (uniquely, this is a Saturday on which oil may not be consumed)—; and, in both cases, the brethren remain in church, and do not retire to the refectory.

The Artoklasia (the breaking and distribution of bread together with wine) really serves the purpose of sustaining the faithful through a service that is, in theory, meant to last through a long winter night. During the summer months, the distribution of this bread and wine is postponed until the end of the Liturgy. A rubric in the Pentecostarion prescribes “that beginning with the Sunday of Saint Thomas, the breaking of the bread doth not take place after the Blessing of the Loaves, due to the brevity of the night.” On Holy Saturday, the figs, dates, bread and wine are, likewise, provided for the sustenance of the faithful—who would, otherwise, not eat, in theory, between the meal after the Vesperal Liturgy on Maundy Thursday afternoon and that after the Paschal Liturgy celebrated very early on Easter Sunday morning.

On the other hand, the Typikon—in Chapter 35—does refer to the Artoklasia at a Vigil as a third meal. Normally, two meals per day—one after the Liturgy (if any) and another after Vespers—are prescribed. On stricter days of fasting, one meal—after Vespers (or after a Vesperal Liturgy on those days that such be celebrated)—is prescribed.

Sycophants...

2011-10-08T23:25:00.002+01:00

I absolutely despise sycophants, and sycophancy itself. Sycophants are pond life; and maybe they think that sucking up to people fills a hole in their self esteem, or something. They're in all walks of life, in the workplace, at the church (you know the sort, someone who hangs around the rector overmuch). Probably one reason I fell out (and had a huge row) with the Admin Manager at work is because he/she found that I didn't suck up to him/her. The GM likes me though, even if he thinks I am a little odd. He thinks I am honest, trustworthy and highly intelligent. I once said to him that I thought he was very good at his job, and that I had respect for him, but also that since he was a manager (indeed the manager) he didn't give a shit about me; he just wanted the work done. Some people appreciate my ''brutal honesty,'' even so; some don't. They look at me and think that because I am polite to people, and shy, that I am a pushover.

A while ago now I asked my worshipful mother why people didn't like me. Her reply was simply this: ''because you can't keep your mouth shut!'' Nevertheless, God made me for a purpose. If it is to tell people that they are awful practitioners of Liturgy, then so be it. If I am less popular for it, then all I can say is: people aren't my first priority anyway, so I don't care really.

Mighty Atheismo...

2011-10-02T13:13:00.002+01:00

Dixit insipiens in corde suo, non est Deus. (Psalms 53:1).

Can atheists hope to live moral lives in any meaningful sense? If so, from whence does their sense of morality come? If not from some underlying Principle, a Supreme Real and arbiter, then whence? Conscience? Reason? Who decides reason? The Philosophers? Men make mistakes. Having eschewed the authority of God, the Church and the Bible, to what do atheists look to decide right from wrong? Example (leaving aside issues of abortion and euthanasia for the time being): to wantonly murder someone is wrong. Atheists and Christians can agree on that; but why? A Christian would appeal to the natural law, to the Divine Law, the laws of the Church, to conscience, fundamentally to the authority of God. To what would an atheist look? The dictates of society, which differ from place to place, and from time to time? Truth is not relative, nor does it become less ''true'' when it seems inconvenient, and assent to the legislative principles laid down by particular nations is not a moral activity - it is simply the bald (albeit reasonable) assent to a set of socio-political principles, which may (or may not) be inspired by the dictates of a religion long since neglected by most people, and actually discouraged by example and social custom. Oh I don't know, maybe I am just being my usual triumphalist self, but the way I see it: belief in God is not simply the mind reaching the zenith of its inherent purpose, it is a moral activity. Atheists are, ipso facto, immoral people.

The cartoon is of Professor Farnsworth from Futurama, who in one episode prayed to ''almighty Atheismo.''

The Twelve Conclusions of the Lollards...

2011-09-28T20:28:00.003+01:00

I was hoping to find these conclusions in my copy of Tolkien's A Middle English Reader & Vocabulary, but no such luck - it would have been nice to read them in the Middle English in which they were composed. At any rate it has been a while since I read Tolkien's first academic publication (to be fair it was a joint effort; he compiled the Vocabulary, whereas his tutor Kenneth Sisam supplied the texts). As you know, the Lollards, or mumblers, were proto-Protestant heretics suppressed (largely) by the Church of England, although many outwardly conforming Lollards survived well into the days of the Reformation. The Twelve Conclusions of the Lollards (a kind of compendium of their beliefs, like to the Ninety-Five Theses of Martin Luther) were nailed to St Paul's Cross and submitted to Parliament (which took no action) in 1395. At any rate Wycliffe's Bible (pictured above), like the Coverdale Psalter used by the Catholic Church of this country in her daily offices, is a masterpiece of English literature.

Here is an interesting example of the Lollard ''conclusions.'' They seem to have confused veneration of Christ's Rood with the veneration of anything having had some connexion with Christ's person. The conclusion itself is vile and unreasonable, but I loved reading it.

The eighth conclusion needful to tell the people beguiled is the pilgrimage, prayers, and offerings made to blind roods and deaf images of tree and stone be near kin to idolatry and far from alms deeds. And though this forbidden imagery be a book of errors to the lewd people, yet the image used of Trinity is most abominable. This conclusion God openly sheweth, commanding to do almsdeeds to men that be needy, for they be the image of God in a more likeness than the stock of the stone, for God sayeth not Faciamus lignum ad ymaginem et similitudinem nostram aut lapidem, but faciamus hominem etc. For the high worship that clerks call latria longeth to the godhead alone and the lower worship that is called dulia longeth to man and to angel and to lower creatures. The corollary is that the service of the Rood, done twice every year in our church, is fulfilled of idolatry, for if the Rood tree, nails, and the spear, and the crown of God should be so holy worshipped, then were Judas' lips, whoso might them get, a wonder great relic. But we pray thee, pilgrim, us to tell when thou first offerest to saints' bones enshrined in any place, whether relieves thou the saint that is in bliss or the alms house that is so well endowed. For men be canonized, God knows how, and for to speak more in plain, true Christian men suppose that the points of that noble man that men call Saint Thomas, were no cause of martyrdom.

St Teilo's...

2011-09-28T12:59:00.002+01:00

It was a while ago now, and I can't presently remember where or when I first saw it, but this struck me as very interesting. It was a modern reconstruction of the Reconciliation of Penitents. Details of the church can be obtained here. Enjoy!

If it ain't broke...

2011-09-26T20:55:00.011+01:00

''Thank goodness,'' laughed Bilbo, and handed him the nicorette patch.

I think all great literature will read like this one day; just like on 15th August 1949 the proper prayers of the Mass ran Gaudeamus omnes in Domino, etc, and in 1951 they went Signum magnum apparuit in caelo. Testament to the fallacy that our godly forebears, who died fortified in Christ's Faith, were in error and that anyone, in their presumption and insolence, has any right whatsoever to change the Tradition of the Church on a whim, to adorn it or make it their own.

I don't smoke; I never saw the attraction, but the art of harvesting pipe-weed and smoking it from pipes was given us by the goodly folk of the Shire (Tobold the Old if I remember aright), as was the brewing of ales, and ornamental waistcoats (I am desperate to get one, but apparently I'm not fat enough to pull it off). It is to be remembered that all great men smoked; from C.S Lewis, who had the art of latinizing the Coverdale Psalter (I discovered this when I read his Latin Letters - he never once quoted the Vulgate, though he encouraged the reading of it); to Oscar Wilde - although he smoked cigarettes.

Just a thought. Oh and from now on Traddies will be known as the Sackville-Bagginses (or S.B's for convenience) on this 'blog. Very apposite if certain friends of mine familiar with Tolkien remember the worst of them!

FYI: I don't often make use of images from the film trilogy (the book is not in fact one), but I thought at the time (and still do) that Ian Holm made a fine Bilbo.

Please do as I say!

2011-09-16T19:26:00.002+01:00

Our separated brethren the Roman Catholics are now expected to abstain from flesh meat on Fridays again. See here. Of course if you do eat meat, according to the clarification of the Bishops' Conference, you are not actually sinning - unless I am quite mistaken. Just seems a tad relativistic, inconsistent and ill-defined to me; and are we to take it all seriously? The discipline fell into abeyance because those who claim to possess apostolic authority did away with the obligation. It's like Liturgy, Canon Law...well any legislative matter in the Roman Communion. It doesn't matter which institutions have stood the test of time and have the backing of centuries of adherence (not to mention Divine Law); it's all about what the latest pope has said on a whim. How can modern day Roman Catholics reconcile the claims of Summorum Pontificum with previous liturgical legislation from the 1960s? To which authority does one ultimately render obeisance? Who decides? The pope? Didn't the pope wreck everything in the first place, or is it fitting to place the blame with his curial underlings who, by some art, did all the bad stuff under his nose?

This is evidence of that gross tendency in the contemporary Roman church to centralise everything. It's pathetic really, the last desperate power grab of a frail old queen who still clings to a fundamentally obsolete (and wrong) notion of Papal Supremacy. ''Ohhh, please do as I say! I'm the pope, and I hold the keys of the Kingdom!'' I rejoice that so few Romans take the modern Roman church seriously.

I have followed...

2011-09-15T21:02:00.001+01:00

...with enthusiasm the blog of the Liturgical Pimpernel for some time now, especially those not infrequent posts where I seem to be subject. I saw this in his next to latest post:

I was not referring to Patricius' statements on his sexuality, in which I have no interest at all. I was referring to everything he says about LITURGY, in which he demonstrates an ignorance which is as comprehensive as his lack of charity. He may be honest about that, but he knows nothing about anything else.

My personal life is naturally something I am not prepared to discuss in a public or semi public forum, such as a 'blog. I suppose this comment was related to my post about the article that that ignorant autodidact wrote a few weeks ago? I wrote then what I wrote purely to make my own argument more plausible. I can only humbly observe that perhaps it worked, since the conclusions reached by the American Traddie seemed nonsensical to me.

Even so, perhaps the individual who composed the aforementioned comment would care to come forward and justify his claims? I never said I was an expert in Liturgy, but I am by no means ignorant! I just said that I had something to say (when I can be bothered saying it) which seemed to be ignored by the Traditionalist world, where sycophancy, a lot of might-have-beens, and satisfaction with mediocre Liturgy tolerated (though in some cases, not even allowed!) by Rome seem to be the norm. If I have said anything worthwhile then perhaps my small, mean endeavour here can be said to have procured at least some good for the Catholic Church. As for my supposed ''lack of charity,'' how can I be charitably disposed towards people who care more for blind obedience where it serves us not when blind obedience got us all into this liturgical mess in the first place? If any Traddies still read this blog, it's nothing personal. You just make me sick.

The flowers have nothing to do with the post, but they are my personal favourite. They are purple saxifrage, a rare mountain flower, which oftentimes flowers among the snow. They are extraordinarily pretty. I first saw them as a boy in my grandmother's rock garden, that worshipful lady who fostered rather than tried to suppress my inclination toward beautiful, lofty things. When I went to the florist to engineer a bouquet to my own specifications for my mother's 50th birthday I asked the florist if she knew them (she didn't); I went away thinking that I must be among a handful of male clients who knows anything about flowers!

No Popery...

2011-09-12T19:40:00.003+01:00

I used to think that such images as these encapsulated the liturgical ideal, but I am beginning to wonder. After all, what is this but the bishop of Rome, who claims to be Christ's one-and-only infallible vicegerent on earth and the dispenser of Grace, celebrating bastardised court liturgy in a pagan basilica?

Rhetoric...

2011-09-10T12:27:00.002+01:00

Bloggers have each their own particular skill; some don't seem to be skilled in the art of writing at all, but are perhaps better at other things; others repeat catchy phrases and quips over and over again (''say the black, do the red,'' or more annoyingly; ''the new, corrected translation'') to drum into their readers a sort of party-line, any deviation from which and one is in danger of heresy, or one's loyalty to the Magisterium is brought into question. Perhaps bloggers of this sort are skilled at manipulating their influence as instruments of the Magisterium, and that the repetition of those quips covers up their ignorance of Liturgy? Lord only knows. Patricius (and I don't often refer to myself in the third person) doesn't have catchy phrases, nor does he seek to enslave his readers even so; he seeks here merely to draw people out of the Ultramontane heresy by the insurmountable weight of reasoned (well, sometimes) argument. If Patricius has convinced anyone of the shortcomings of that anti-Traditional vice, then it seems that, to an extent, what he sought to accomplish has been fulfilled.

I said at the start of this post that bloggers have each their own particular skill - what would mine be? And it was not in idle fancy that I chose upon this woodcut of Hugh Latimer preaching. Can anyone guess why? Readers should know that I am not the least bit interested in Protestantism, or any of its detestable forms. It just irritates me that many seem to confuse Protestantism with rejection of Ultramontanism. Protestantism is a heresy which protests against the articles of Faith as they are found in the decrees of the Ecumenical Councils and the Sacred Liturgy, and distorts the meaning of Holy Writ. Therefore, methinks that those Ultramontane types who blindly follow the writ of the bishop of Rome are more Protestant when the aforesaid bishop overturns the Tradition of the Church by the invocation of trumped up ''apostolic authority.'' This vainglorious ''authority'' is nothing more than the pope's private interpretation of the Faith. In other words, there is no one on the face of this earth more full of shit than the Pope.

Traffic...

2011-09-09T12:38:00.002+01:00

I find it strange that, considering so few bloggers actually condescend to link to me, that I get so many visitors a day - 300 on average. Why do they not link to me? Are they trying to shield their readers from what they might deem heterodox, or extreme, liturgical theology, like private popes ticking off their private Index of Forbidden Blogs, or a mother safeguarding her children from inappropriate reading material? Are adults not capable of making up their own minds? I did. Someone shewed to me the history of the Liturgy, and the dealings of the Papacy with it, and I made up my own mind, and found that the claims of Vatican I were disconsonant with the facts as they now are. Perhaps it's deeper than that, though. Perhaps the moderators of the Great Blogs (and I know they read little old me from time to time, that's what Sitemeter is for!) are scared by what I say, and want to keep their own readers in the dark; in the Romish fantasy land of Summorum-Pontificum-is-the-cure-of-centuries-of-liturgical-malaise, or Anglicanorum-coetibus-will-actually-work, etc.

Oh well, I shouldn't care really. The Romans who read this blog can get on with their new mistranslation and the rite of 1962 to their heart's content - it has nothing to do with me!

To Rütten & Loening Verlag...

2011-09-08T21:51:00.003+01:00

''Foramine sub terra Hobbitus habitavit.'' (Ioannes Tolkien, Ille Hobbitus). I speak with the authority of the Church when I declare J.R.R Tolkien to be a saint. In the days before official ''canonization'' by the bishops of Rome the local bishop simply added the saint to the local litany. That's still the best way if you ask me. Some years ago, on the occasion of his anniversary, I brought a copy of The Hobbit to my old church and asked that it be incensed at the Offertory as a relic. Nothing came of it.

I am reading The Hobbit again, a book which the eminent Church historian Dr Price once described to me as a masterpiece of children's literature. Naturally I agreed. The Hobbit was ever my salvation as a boy; whether it was hiding under a pile of coats in the cloak room during PE lessons and fighting goblins, wargs and the spiders of Mirkwood while the other children were being put through two hours of rugby or rounders; or creeping through the halls of the Elven-king so quietly and attentively that I missed several calls to the dinner table. Sorry Harry Potter, but Bilbo Baggins is the most important person to ever walk the face of the earth. At the moment he is in the woodlands about Rivendell (later named the Troll Shaws) spying on the trolls, who in many ways remind me of some people at work, but anywho...

In 1938 Allen & Unwin (Tolkien's publishers) had negotiated a German translation of The Hobbit with Rütten & Loening of Potsdam. The firm wrote to Tolkien asking whether he was of ''Arisch'' (Aryan) origin, and Tolkien (incensed by their ''lunatic laws'' and ''the wholly pernicious and unscientific race-doctrine'') replied even so (this is the letter preserved in the Allen & Unwin archives):

25th July 1938

Dear Sirs,

Thank you for your letter. . . . .I regret that I am not clear as to what you intend by arisch. I am not of Aryan extraction: that is Indo-iranian; as far as I am aware none of my ancestors spoke Hindustani, Persian, Gypsy, or any related dialects. But if I am to understand that you are enquiring whether I am of Jewish origin, I can only reply that I regret that I appear to have no ancestors of that gifted people. My great-great grandfather came to England in the eighteenth century from Germany: the main part of my descent is therefore purely English, and I am an English subject - which should be sufficient. I have been accustomed, nonetheless, to regard my German name with pride, and continued to do so throughout the period of the regrettable war, in which I served in the English army. I cannot, however, forbear to comment that if impertinent and irrelevant inquiries of this sort are to become the rule in matters of literature, then the time is not far distant when a German name will no longer be a source of pride.

Your enquiry is doubtless made in order to comply with the laws of your own country, but that this should be held to apply to the subjects of another state would be improper, even if it had (as it has not) any bearing whatsoever on the merits of my work or its suitability for publication, of which you appear to have satisfied yourselves without reference to my Abstammung [German; ''descent, genealogy''].

I trust you will find this reply satisfactory, and

remain yours faithfully,

J.R.R Tolkien.

A German translation was not eventually published until 1957. I wonder to what extent Tolkien's letter influenced this? German children, even the current pope, therefore missed out on good Catholic literature, although I daresay the Nazis would have corrupted the book in some way so maybe it was a good thing. God only knows.

Bah, humbug...

2011-09-07T16:21:00.003+01:00

I see the Pimpernel is at it again. Confessedly I laughed my socks off when I read that I am the ''prince of liturgical humbug,'' whatever that is. Who does he think he is? I must say I'm surprised that for someone so obedient to the Magisterium that he has seen The Life of Brian!

This painting depicts Nikita Pustosvyat, a poor Russian priest of the Old Ritualist tradition, challenging the authorities, even the Tsar, who had changed the Russian liturgical books to bring them into line with modern Greek praxis, by appeal to the traditional liturgical books. In other words, this is me 300 years ago.

Domine, refugiam...

2011-09-05T14:46:00.003+01:00

Psalm XC is possibly my favourite psalm in the Psalter. I am currently listening to a fair rendering by Thomas Attwood, sung by the choir of Westminster Abbey. A sample of it can be heard here. The language of Liturgy is not something I readily discuss on Liturgiae Causa. I am not averse to liturgical English. This is something that distinguishes me from the RC Traditionalist. Where they see Latin as a liturgical form and expression, an extension of Romish truth (a rather nebulous formula), which outweighs well-nigh all other matters liturgical, they are blinded to most else of import measurable in the tradition of the Church (so much so that they see little fault with the liturgical books of 1962, or that lovely Offertory motet Colores Diei - it's in Latin, and ad orientem, what could one want more?). Wherefore does it matter whether you say Gloria in excelsis Deo or Glory be to God on high? For that matter, which is more Catholic? For one church to celebrate the mysteries of Holy Week according to the bastardised rites of Pius XII; or for another to celebrate them as they were until those rites suffered violence at the hands of the pope? What is a ''liturgical'' language? Is it a language raised to a certain eminence? Of a surety, but why must Liturgy remain obscure to them that would otherwise descry somewhat of the Divine Majesty by the understanding of liturgical texts? I am by no means propounding Bible-in-basic-English; nothing could be more inimical to ecclesiastical propriety! Perhaps I am undecided on this matter, which many readers may find strange! Verily the catholicity of Christ's Church is not determined by a universal language of Liturgy. The Coverdale Psalter has, at the head of each psalm, the Latin incipit, which can be seen as a mode of continuity with the past - nova et vetera, and all that. Perhaps I can see, in a unified Church, the traditional local rites restored (Sarum, Hereford, York for England, etc), the Rood Screens carved and painted anew, and parishes opting to follow either the Latin of our Catholic forebears or the English of the Prayerbook...And then the wind blew, and I woke up! I am going to read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings again. (I haven't forgotten the issue of Sacred Music in the problem of liturgical language. It is a myth that English cannot be put to plainsong, but the notation in the Graduale is naturally set to Latin, not English. Hmmm, perhaps in the light of this post I shall write another with that in mind).

Anywho, Domine, refugiam from the Coverdale Psalter:

Lord, thou hast been our refuge: from one generation to another.

Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world were made: thou art God from everlasting, and world without end.

Thou turnest man to destruction: again thou sayest, Come again, ye children of men.

For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday: seeing that is past as a watch in the night.

As soon as thou scatterest them they are even as a sleep: and fade away suddenly like the grass.

In the morning it is green, and groweth up: but in the evening it is cut down, dried up, and withered.

For we consume away in thy displeasure: and are afraid at thy wrathful indignation.

Thou hast set our misdeeds before thee: and our secret sins in the light of thy countenance.

For when thou art angry all our days are gone: we bring our years to an end, as if it were a tale that is told.

The days of our age are threescore years and ten; and though men be so strong that they come to fourscore years: yet is their strength then but labour and sorrow; so soon passeth it away, and we are gone.

But who regardeth the power of thy wrath: for even thereafter as a man feareth, so is thy displeasure.

So teach us to number our days: that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.

Turn thee again, O Lord, at the last: and be gracious unto thy servants.

O satisfy us with thy mercy, and that soon: so shall we rejoice and be glad all the days of our life.

Comfort us again now after the time that thou hast plagued us: and for the years wherein we have suffered adversity.

Shew thy servants thy work: and their children thy glory.

And the glorious Majesty of the Lord our God be upon us: prosper thou the work of our hands upon us, O prosper thou our handywork!

The above illuminated manuscript is from the St Florian Psalter. It is a veritable reason to be Catholic. Wasn't it Cardinal Ratzinger who once said that apart from the saints and her art, the Church really had nothing else going for her?

Some real Liturgy...

2011-09-05T12:09:00.003+01:00

It has occurred to me that I have been writing this 'blog for well over a year now and haven't actually arranged any real Liturgy. This is a problem. If anybody is interested, you can email me at patrick.sheridan88@gmail.com. Please no Traddie riff raff. I want to do Sarum, not 1962 with yards of commonplace lace ornamentation and tabard-shaped chasubles. If I wanted that I could visit a host of churches in London. Perhaps some Office and High Mass...

New Sunday...

2011-09-04T20:00:00.005+01:00

Come unto me all that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. (St Matthew 11:28, from the Prayerbook of the Church of England). Intelligible, poetic, lofty and fitting for Divine Service. Let us compare such treasures to the shite that Rome has lately dispensed for us. If people find the tone of this post disagreeable, then I am sorry (though not surprised), but I fear that there is too little ''calling a spade a spade'' in the blogosphere, and it's up to poor old Patricius to do it. By the way, I have it on good authority that some prominent churches in London (and a local one) have decided not to implement the new ICEL. Good for them! The more who eschew the fallible Magisterium, the better; the better for all of us. And may those long accustomed to the old ICEL continue to respond And also with you - it's far more accurate than saying ''and with YOUR spirit.''

They err who think that all enemies of the new translation are tambourine-waving yokels and serviettes of the ''spirit of Vatican II'' generation. I despise the new translation with the uttermost fervour, and for very good reasons; yea and I look down my nose at such idiots who welcome it, whose views are inimical to the Gospel. In reality they're very much like the Modernists, two sides of the same Ultramontane coin; just as tasteless, ignorant and untraditional as the lacey tabard-wearing pope, whose idea of liturgical tradition is more lace, more candles, more Latin and dalmatics for Lententide. Dress up a pig in a lace cotta, give him a 1962 Missal, and you call that Tradition? Puleeeeeeeeez.

During my lunch break at work the other day I was perusing my copy of the Book of Common Prayer, and comparing the texts therein with the new ICEL ''equivalents.'' I am now more than ever convinced of the superiority of the Church of England to the Roman communion. Just look!

A general Confession (''meekly kneeling upon your knees'') from the Order of the Administration of the Lord's Supper (said by one of the Ministers of the Mass on behalf of those present who are duly disposed to receive the Sacrament, under both kinds naturally):

Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Maker of all things, Judge of all men; we acknowledge and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness, which we, from time to time, most grievously have committed, by thought, word and deed, against thy Divine Majesty, provoking most justly thy wrath and indignation against us. We do earnestly repent and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; the remembrance of them is grievous unto us; the burden of them is intolerable. Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us, most merciful Father; for thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ's sake, forgive us all that is past; and grant that we may ever hereafter serve and please thee in newness of life, to the honour and glory of thy Name. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Compare this to the rather bald translation of the new, untraditional, version of the Confiteor in the New ICEL:

I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters [is this an accurate rendering of ''et vobis fratres''?!], that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault; therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin, all the Angels and Saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.

Or the Gloria:

Glory be to God on high, and in earth peace, good will towards men. We praise thee, we bless thee, we worship thee, we glorify thee, we give thanks to thee for thy great glory, O Lord God heavenly King, God the Father Almighty. O Lord, the only-begotten Son Jesu Christ; O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us. Thou that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us. Thou that takest away the sins of the world, receive our prayer. Thou that sittest at the right hand of God the Father, have mercy upon us. For thou only art holy; thou only art the Lord, thou only, O Christ, with the Holy Ghost, art most high in the glory of God the Father. Amen.

New ICEL crap:

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people [''people''!?! ffs, hominibus is a dative plural form which refers to MEN, not men and women - see the botched confession above] of good will. We praise you [thee], we bless you, we adore you, we glorify you, we give you thanks for your great glory [or better, we give thee thanks for the greatness of thy splendour?], Lord God, heavenly King, O [please] God, almighty Father. Lord Jesus Christ, Only Begotten Son, Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father, you take away the sins of the world, have mercy on us; you take away the sins of the world, receive our prayer; you are seated at the right hand of the Father, have mercy on us. For you alone are the Holy One, you alone are the Lord, you alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit [Ghost], in the glory of God the Father. Amen.

There is something inherently distasteful about addressing God in the plural. It is also dangerous theologically, which I believe I have explained elsewhere. I don't know what it is exactly, but could it could possibly be the combination of inclusive language and the ''O's'' that makes this translation ridiculous? Who wants inclusive language in the Liturgy? Since when was the Sacred Liturgy subject to the parameters set by ''political correctness''? My God, I've read better literature in the waiting area of the Maudsley Hospital, or that Watchtower magazine the Jehovah's Witnesses left with me yesterweek after I demanded they get off my land. At least Old ICEL was dynamic and was fit to compare to the Latin in cadence and rhythm.

I'm sorry but I don't think I have ever read such an awful translation. It conveys nothing but artificiality and pretence, and is not edifying in the slightest. It betrays the very principles of good translation in many respects. Why, for example, translate consubstantialem into ''consubstantial''? What is wrong with simply saying, as in the Prayerbook, being of one substance with? It isn't really a ''translation'' in the proper sense if you keep using latinate words is it? (This, I guess, is my chief objection to the translation Holy Spirit. It is more traditional to say Holy Ghost; why shy away from a goodly name used by our Catholic forebears?) The idiocy of the translators is shown most clearly in the inconsistency of the next part, referring to the Holy Ghost, where they say: who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified. What would Tolkien, or Fortescue say? Oh I know what Fortescue would say:

Frankly, I do not think I have ever read a book written in so atrocious a style. The only thing in its favour is that it is extremely funny. However, since the book is meant to be serious, it is a pity that someone did not apprize Dale to proceed to observe the customary use of language, in conjunction with people who write English.

Once again, shame on Mother Rome, and a goodly number of anathemas upon those who use this translation willingly, in the spirit of contempt for our godly English tongue. They do well who eschew it, for of a surety it is a ghastly affront to ecclesiastical propriety and taste.

Patricius locutus est.

I really...

2011-09-03T17:23:00.001+01:00

...really hate this man.

The Great Patron of Liturgiae Causa...

2011-09-02T15:34:00.002+01:00

The patron of this blog, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, died 38 years ago today. Verily a prominent literary Catholic, an upright, moral man and a genius of his time, I render hearty thanks unto the Lord for his life and writings. For the last three years I had in mind his liturgical musings throughout the month of September, but I thought I'd simply quote something from The Lord of the Rings this year, in reverent living memory (isn't that an apt definition of Tradition?) of the great man who has shaped and influenced the course of my life for so many years. I was, after all, just seven years old when I first read The Hobbit, and was so moved by literature even to tears when I read of the death of Thorin Oakenshield. Tolkien's writings are good, in the all-encompassing biblical sense, and wholesome; influenced by the Catholic faith, which pervades and dictates all great works of art. I wonder if readers can guess why I have, of all passages, chosen upon this one?

'''Then let us do first what we must do,'' said Legolas. ''We have not the time or the tools to bury our comrade fitly, or to raise a mound over him. A cairn we might build.''
''The labour would be hard and long: there are no stones that we could use nearer than the water-side,'' said Gimli.
''Then let us lay him in a boat with his weapons, and the weapons of his vanquished foes,'' said Aragorn. ''We will send him to the Falls of Rauros and give him to Anduin. The River of Gondor will take care at least that no evil creature dishonours his bones.''

'Quickly they searched the bodies of the Orcs, gathering their swords and cloven helms and shields into a heap.
''See!'' cried Aragorn. ''Here we find tokens!'' He picked out from the pile of grim weapons two knives, leaf-bladed, damasked in gold and red; and searching further he found also the sheaths, black, set with small red gems. ''No orc-tools are these!'' he said. ''They were borne by the hobbits. Doubtless the Orcs despoiled them, but feared to keep the knives, knowing them for what they were: work of Westernesse, wound about with spells for the bane of Mordor. Well, now, if they still live, our friends are weaponless. I will take these things, hoping against hope, to give them back.''
''And I,'' said Legolas, ''will take all the arrows that I can find, for my quiver is empty.'' He searched in the pile and on the ground about and found not a few that were undamaged and longer in the shaft than such arrows as the Orcs were accustomed to use. He looked at them closely.
And Aragorn looked on the slain, and he said: ''Here lie many that are not folk of Mordor. Some are from the North, from the Misty Mountains, if I know anything of Orcs and their kinds. And here are others strange to me. Their gear is not after the manner of Orcs at all!''
There were four goblin-soldiers of greater stature, swart, slant-eyed, with thick legs and large hands. They were armed with short broad-bladed swords, not with the curved scimitars usual with Orcs; and they had bows of yew, in length and shape like the bows of Men. Upon their shields they bore a strange device: a small white hand in the centre of a black field; on the front of their iron helms was set an S-rune, wrought of some white metal.
''I have not seen these tokens before,'' said Aragorn. ''What do they mean?''
''S for Sauron,'' said Gimli. ''That is easy to read.''
''Nay!'' said Legolas. ''Sauron does not use the Elf-runes.''
''Neither does he use his right name, nor permit it to be spelt or spoken,'' said Aragorn. ''And he does not use white. The Orcs in the service of Barad-dûr use the sign of the Red Eye.'' He stood for a moment in thought. ''S is for Saruman, I guess,'' he said at length. ''There is evil afoot in Isengard, and the West is no longer safe. It is as Gandalf feared: by some means the traitor Saruman has had news of our journey. It is likely too that he knows of Gandalf's fall. Pursuers from Moria may have escaped the vigilance of Lórien, or they may have avoided that land and come to Isengard by other paths. Orcs travel fast. But Saruman has many ways of learning news. Do you remember the birds?''
''Well, we have no time to ponder the riddles,'' said Gimli. ''Let us bear Boromir away!''
''But after that we must guess the riddles, if we are to choose our course rightly,'' answered Aragorn.
''Maybe there is no right choice,'' said Gimli.

'Taking his axe the Dwarf now cut several branches. These they lashed together with bowstrings, and spread their cloaks upon the frame. Upon this rough bier they carried the body of their companion to the shore, together with such trophies of his last battle as they chose to send forth with him. It was only a short way, yet they foun it no easy task, for Boromir was a man both tall and strong.
At the water-side Aragorn remained, watching the bier, while Legolas and Gimli hastened back on foot to Parth Galen. It was a mile or more, and it was some time before they came back, paddling two boats swiftly along the shore.
''There is a strange tale to tell!'' said Legolas. ''There are only two boats upon the bank. We could find no trace of the other.''
''Have Orcs been there?'' asked Aragorn.
''We saw no signs of them,'' answered Gimli. ''And Orcs would have taken or destroyed all the boats, and the baggage as well.''
''I will look at the ground when we come there,'' said Aragorn.

'Now they laid Boromir in the middle of the boat that was to bear him away. The grey hood and elven-cloak they folded and placed beneath his head. They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it upon his shoulders. The golden belt of Lórien gleamed about his waist. His helm they set beside him, and across his lap they laid the cloven horn and the hilts and shards of his sword; beneath his feet they put the swords of his enemies. Then fastening the prow to the stern of the other boat, they drew him out into the water. They rowed sadly along the shore, and turning into the swift-running channel they passed the green sward of Parth Galen. The steep sides of Tol Brandir were glowing: it was now mid-afternoon. As they went south the fume of Rauros rose and shimmered before them, a haze of gold. The rush and thunder of the falls shook the windless air.
Sorrowfully they cast loose the funeral boat: there Boromir lay, restful, peaceful, gliding upon the bosom of the flowing water. The stream took him while they held their own boat with their paddles. He floated by them, and slowly his boat departed, waning into a dark spot against the golden light; and then suddenly it vanished. Rauros roared on unchanging. The River had taken Boromir son of Denethor, and he was not seen again in Minas Tirith, standing as he used to stand upon the White Tower in the morning. But in Gondor in after-days it was long said that the elven-boat rode the falls and the foaming pool, and bore him down through Osgiliath, and past eh many mouths of Anduin, out into the Great Sea at night under the stars.

'For a while the three companions remained silent, gazing after him. Then Aragorn spoke. ''They will look for him from the White Tower,'' he said, ''but he will not return from mountain or from sea.'' Then slowly he began to sing:

'Through Rohan over fen and field where the long grass grows
The West Wind comes walking, and about the walls it goes.
''What news from the West, O wandering wind, do you bring to me tonight?
Have you seen Boromir the Tall by moon or by starlight?''
''I saw him ride over seven streams, over waters wide and grey;
I saw him walk in empty lands, until he passed away
Into the shadows of the North. I saw him then no more.
The North Wind may have heard the horn of the son of Denethor.''
''O Boromir! From the high walls westward I looked afar,
But you came not from the empty lands where no men are.''

'Then Legolas sang:

'From the mouths of the Sea the South Wind flies, from the sandhills and the stones;
The wailing of the gulls it bears, and at the gate it moans.
''What news from the South, O sighing wind, do you bring to me at eve?
Where now is Boromir the Fair? He tarries and I grieve.''
''Ask not of me where he doth dwell - so many bones there lie
On the white shores and the dark shores under the stormy sky;
So many have passed down Anduin to find the flowing Sea.
Ask of the North Wind news of them the North Wind sends to me!''
''O Boromir! Beyond the gate the seaward road runs south,
But you came not with the wailing gulls from the grey
sea's mouth.''

'Then Aragorn sang again:

'From the Gate of Kings the North Wind rides, and past the roaring falls;
And clear and cold about the tower its loud horn calls.
''What news from the North, O mighty wind, do you bring to me today?
What news of Boromir the Bold? For he is long away.''
''Beneath Amon Hen I heard his cry. There many foes he fought.
His cloven shield, his broken sword, they to the waters brought.
His head so proud, his face so fair, his limbs they laid to rest;
And Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, bore him upon its breast.''
''O Boromir! The Tower of Guard shall ever northward gaze
To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days.''

'So they ended. Then they turned their boat and drove it with all the speed they could against the stream back to Path Galen.
''You left the East Wind to me,'' said Gimli, ''but I will say naught of it.''
''That is as it should be,'' said Aragorn. ''In Minas Tirith they endure the East Wind, but they do not ask it for tidings. But now Boromir has taken his road, and we must make haste to choose our own.''' (The Lord of the Rings, Book III, Chapter I).

Tolkien's Requiem Mass was celebrated on 6th September in the church of St Anthony of Padua in Headington, Oxford, by his son John with the assistance of Fr Robert Murray, SJ (whom I met in 2006) and Mgr Doran, the rector. He is buried beside his wife Edith in the section of Wolvercote cemetery reserved for members of the Roman church. The modest headstone, of Cornish granite, is inscribed: ''Edith Mary Tolkien, Lúthien, 1889-1971. John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, Beren, 1892-1973.''

Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.

The Tridentine Rite...

2011-09-01T18:36:00.002+01:00

Rubricarius of the St Lawrence Press has put up some fascinating photos of a Belgian Missal dated 1576, containing the texts and rubrics of the rite of the Mass as codified by the Council of Trent, prior to the Clementine revisions of 1604 - far removed from the bastardised rite devised by curial sycophants and approved by Pacelli in the mid-1950s, and used by so-called ''traditionalist'' groups who promote the Extraordinary Form of the ''Roman'' rite. The Tridentine Rite was a much-reformed and watered down form of the ancestral Roman Rite of the parish churches of the city of Rome (to which the venerable Use of Sarum was akin), used by the Papal Court, reformed by a succession of popes such as Innocent III, and adopted by the Friars Minor (a fact which Adrian Fortescue curiously passed over in his otherwise brilliant history of the Roman Mass). The Tridentine Rite was revised less than forty years after its codification in 1570, and eventually, in the wake of the innovations of the Counter Reformation period (which in my view signalled the death knell of Tradition in the Roman Church), this form replaced the local uses of the West. By the mid-20th century Liturgy in the Roman Church was, to put it mildly, dead - stifled by rubricism, Low Mass and the S.R.C. If Traditionalists seriously think that a 1962 celebration of the Eucharistic Sacrifice, in the foul spirit of Ultramontanism, is continuity with the Tradition of the Church they are, in the light of the countless reforms of the Liturgy since Trent, seriously mistaken.

The photos open a window into a lost world and reveal elements of the Tridentine Rite which were abolished in the Clementine and Urban reforms. It is not the Missal of Pius V that survived into the 20th century, the so-called Mass of Ages, redolent of that primeval liturgy celebrated by the Apostles, but the Missal of Urban VIII, the man who replaced the traditional hymnody of the Breviary with ones more to his liking. One rubric in the Tridentine Missal, revised in 1604, had even sacramental implications; a matter which surely indicates that liturgical reform, even for the good of the Church, is perhaps best when not left to demented old men who invoke Apostolic authority to justify abuse and the intoxication of raw power.

I encourage readers to study the photos in detail; it behoves you as Catholics to appreciate them for themselves, inherently valuable, and fundamentally as the way in which the Church prayed for a brief time.