Sunday, 5 June 2016

Clericalism and Gender...

The most obvious question: where is Christ?

Fr Andrew has excelled himself once again in this succinct piece over on Orthodox England. He says:
"The crisis of masculinity (and so of femininity also) began in Western Europe in the second half of the eleventh century. This was when the most powerful men in Western Europe introduced compulsory clerical celibacy in a shocking revolution that ran counter to the Christian Tradition up until then. This revolution itself, which was caused by and led directly to what is now known as clericalism, was an anti-woman phenomenon, an act of misogyny, for it asserted that women were unworthy to share in priests’ lives. It is no surprise to learn that many of those behind this revolutionary innovation were homosexuals (1). However, although initially expressing hatred for women, the revolution came to bring hatred for men too – by metaphorically castrating them, making them less than real men."
I used to think that clerical celibacy was right and proper, and foolishly looked down at married priests. Then I realised that chastity and celibacy were not interpenetrating qualities. Roman controversialists might deny any link between enforced clerical celibacy and the absolute horror of child molestation but these sins (see Mark 9:42) really do demonstrate the danger of sexual repression among men. This is not my area, and it's not for me to pick up where Fr Andrew has left off, but I do. All this stuff is related. The so-called "Gregorian reforms," attributed falsely by their zealous proponents to St Gregory the Great and Preacher of Dialogues (who would no doubt have been horrified by them), were a fundamentally secular revolution, not unlike the rather secular reforms of the Second Vatican Council. Carried all over Europe by the Romanising monks of Cluny, the proto-Ultramontane party of the early feudal world, these reforms destroyed Orthodoxy in Western Europe and established Popery in its place. Feudalism, enforced celibacy, the sharp disparity between Church and State (epitomised in the Road to Canossa and the murder of Thomas Becket), legends and images of St Mary that obliterate the divine motherhood, the maintenance of Latin, the decline of liturgy as corporate worship and its confinement to portable breviaries, competing religious orders, &c. These are just some of the subjects that have their uttermost origin in this secular revolution. In fact, it's not too much of a stretch to attribute the driving force for the liturgical reforms of the 20th century to the Gregorian revolution 900 years previous.

I can't remember who said it but the pope, celibacy and Latin are the only three things Roman Catholics care about.

Friday, 3 June 2016

"Make Britain Catholic again."


See here. Original article here.

You might say that at 28 years old I am too young to be cynical but it just won't happen. It was a pipe dream from the days of Cardinal Wiseman. Cardinal Bourne believed that the "conversion" of England was still possible but was foiled in that hope. And, disturbingly like Zionism, people keep trying to pretend that this "conversion" is, or will be, a "return" to something; a return of English allegiance to an older, purer faith; which is a superstitious, anachronistic fantasy at best. There is no return. Return to what? The Roman Catholic Church didn't exist when the Church of England acknowledged the Roman primacy. If you'd said to somebody like William Langland "Roman Catholic," he'd probably stare blankly at you. He belonged to the Church of England, Ecclesia Anglicana, which had her own origin, her own venerable history, her own saints, her own liturgy, her own ritual, her own sacred canons, her own legislatures and laws, her own hierarchy; all distinct from the Roman, in varying degrees. Or perhaps I am being too technical. Well, let's just say that Rome to-day is unrecognisable. The so-called "barque of Peter" has come to resemble that galley of the legendary Theseus, which the Greeks professed to shew even after the time of Alexander the Great, but which, whatever its origin, had been so patched up and renewed by successive patchings, that not one antient plank remained in it, although they claimed it was the same ship.

If we're talking about a corporate reunion then I imagine Rome to be so unprincipled to-day that it would accept the women priests too. Pius IV is said to have offered Queen Elizabeth to sanction the Prayer Book and her legitimacy if she simply acknowledged his supremacy. That's all Rome cares about.

Thursday, 2 June 2016

"Pulex"


Do you see what kind of brain rot descends on these people? I can imagine the same unoriginal, shallow, utterly ignorant response from just about any traditionalist I have met or known online. You can read all the comments here.

Wednesday, 1 June 2016

Chees 'n' chaws...


"The outcome of the Vatican Council was an increased centralization of the Latin church on the papacy, and the spread of the Italian pronunciation of Latin may be regarded as one of its by-products. Its dissemination received considerable impetus with the accession of Pius X, who was Pope from 1903 to 1914. An ardent advocate of the restoration of Gregorian music, he warmly commended the adoption of the Italian pronunciation of Latin as a useful ally in the cause. His sentiments on the subject are summed up in a letter which he addressed to the Archbishop of Bourges in 1912.

"In this letter, he expresses his pleasure at the advance of the Italian pronunciation in France since the promulgation of his Motu proprio on sacred music in 1904. The question of the pronunciation of Latin, he says, is intimately connected with the cause of Gregorian music. The adoption of the Roman [1] pronunciation in France will help to consolidate the liturgical unity of France brought about by its adoption of the Roman liturgy. Consequently, he hopes that the movement to adopt the Roman pronunciation will continue 'avec la même zèle et les même succès consolants qui ont marqué sa marche progressive.'

"Pius X's letter to the Archbishop of Bourges inevitably led to the considerable increase in the use of the Italian pronunciation of Latin in France, even though the letter was commonly held to have been inspired by the Archbishop himself and by other devotees of italianization. The innovators gained further and very valuable support when the Benedictines of Solesmes included 'les règles de la prononciation romaine du latin' in their manuals of Gregorian chant. 'A ces règles,' the recalcitrant Monseigneur Moissenet, priest-organist of Dijon Cathedral, wrote many years later [2], 'évêques et curés veulent croire comme à l'Évangile, parce que les Solesmiens ont parlé. Aveugles eux-même, et à la tête d'autres aveugles, ils ont fait autour d'eux de vraies ténèbres.'

"To the end of his long life Monseigneur Moissenet was a stalwart champion of the French pronunciation of Latin. In his book, La Pronunciation du Latin, published at Dijon in 1928, he traced the history of the pronunciation of Latin in France and was able to record that he had converted his own bishop to the cause. So great were his enthusiasm and energy that in 1930, at the age of 80, he even founded a Bulletin des amis de la prononciation française du latin. His contemporary and friend, the well-known Benedictine scholar, Dom Henri Leclercq, was an equally firm opponent of italianization. Even when he had been domiciled in England for a third of a century he wrote, 'En ce qui me concerne je prononce et je chante le latin à la française et suis bien décidé à ne pas changer, sachant bien d'ailleurs que les fervents colporteurs de la prononciation italiote seraient les plus exaltés à reprendre les formes érasmiennes, si le pape de Rome le leur disait.'"

[1] 'La prononciation italienne - ses partisans disaient "romaine.'" Bulletin de la Société Palestrina, Nov. 1928, p.2.
[2] In a letter to the author, dated 7th August, 1934.

This charming and informative libellus is entitled "Latin in Church - The History of Its Pronunciation," by F.Brittain, Litt.D. sometime Fellow of Jesus College, Cambridge. It is Alcuin Club Tract XXVIII.

I should like to see the text of Pius X's letter to the Archbishop of Bourges. This is a subject I know very little about, other than its vague cause - the increasing tendency at centralization as a lasting legacy of Pius IX and his synod - and I can't say I'm surprised at the complicity of Solesmes in the process. As for me, old habits die hard. Mrs Granden taught us the "academic," or Erasmian, pronunciation. I still say weni, widi, wiki and I am not going to change just because of some Italian lunatic, as a distinguished priest once said.

Image: A screenshot from The Life of Brian, which so far as I can remember was banned for Roman Catholics in this country. One of those causes championed by either Malcolm Muggeridge or Mary Whitehouse.

Monday, 30 May 2016

Tolkien and me...


It's many years now since I desired to meet, or to have met, any famous or distinguished person. This probably has something to do with me having largely given up culture, literature and music for a life of puritan meanness. After all, what on earth would I say? Would they be interested in a philistine like me? And am I that interested in them? The answer is no. And I reckon that if we did meet, by chance, we'd probably end up talking about the weather or the price of milk, the sort of stuff you discuss with a dying relative. However great and wise these men and women have been, they are just men and women. [For those of you curious as to why I am being "correctly inclusive," I did meet a very distinguished woman, as old as the hills and in a wheelchair, when I was 9 years old].

Liturgiae Causa is, perhaps notoriously, dedicated to a convinced, committed Roman Catholic. So was my old blog. It was my father who bought me The Hobbit as a birthday present over twenty years ago. I don't know what instinct or foreknowledge informed that choice in W.H.Smith all those years ago but it was a good choice and I have spent many years reading Tolkien who has satisfied a deep longing in me that was unsatisfied by church, or the kind of music my parents listened to (Joseph Locke for my father, and Judy Garland for my mother). My father would read mostly military history books about the American Civil War and the Great War; my mother, if she read at all, would read trashy novels by Susan Glaspell, none of which I had any interest in. But Tolkien opened to me a world of dragon fire and hoarded gold; of sacred swords and enchanted woods, of great kingdoms founded upon a deep past held in reverent memory. This changed everything. And you'll no doubt have noticed that I turned to literature because I felt, even as a religious boy (teased at school with the name "God boy"), unsatisfied by church. I didn't read the Holy Bible cover to cover until I was 17 years old. The first attempt I made at this was when, as a boy, I read my mother's "New Jerusalem" Bible and I got as far as the Hebrews in the wilderness, and gave up. I suppose, being somewhat prejudiced, I was relieved to discover, upon first reading Carpenter's biography, that Tolkien was a Roman Catholic. This confirmed my interest in his work.

I owe Tolkien a great deal; my own literacy not least. If any of you have been moved or influenced by my writing here, please know that little credit for that is due to me. And that despite my invective against the church that he loved so well. Now this is a delicate subject and it would be monstrous of me to try to pierce with fallible sight to the depths of his heart, reading between his every word in a sniveling effort to find something there agreeable to me now about his religious beliefs. Tolkien was, from about 8 years old to his dying day, a convinced, committed Roman Catholic. Do my detractors suppose that I am embarrassed by this now? Do they think that I bemoan that my literary hero was, as I have heard it said, so blasphemous and so ignorant? Heaven forbid! Popery may poison contemporary traditionalists in their basic integrity but for Tolkien he seems genuinely to have found God, to have had a clear understanding of His Word, and to have lived life in His grace. This shews in his work, over which pervades a catholicity and ghostly conviction that oft reminds me of true legendaries of the saints. What can I say? I, who am mean, sinful and ignorant, am I to stand in judgement of Tolkien in my darkness? For so the Pharisees stood in judgement of Christ!

Of course, these days I am increasingly aware that Eternity comes, and that soon. This prospect doesn't leave much room for Tolkien's work, which, howbeit inspired by the Gospel, remains modern and secular. I seem to be faced with the very same dilemma that St Jerome faced (see Epistle XXII, § 30) when he stood tortured by the fire of conscience in Hades. Will I be asked on the Day of Judgement if I am Christian or Tolkienian? "For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." As I turned first to literature because I disliked church (which hasn't changed), I think it behoves me now to set Tolkien aside at long last and turn again to the Word of God, where true joy is to be found (as the Collect says). What do you think?

Saturday, 28 May 2016

What is there to like?


A reader has left an impassioned plea for tolerance on my part for the Roman Catholic church. I'll let "hisperic" speak for himself:
"Patrick, you gave a very fair-minded assessment of the Church of England in a comment a few posts back: 
"'It was never the "true" Church, or even a branch thereof, but it maintained dignified worship down to my grandparents' time, and was a force for good in terms of education through liturgy with the Prayer Book and the King James Bible. Not to mention the towering figures, true men of Christ, in the history of Anglicanism; Hooker, Andrewes, Baxter, Ussher, Swift, and closer to our own time Hope Patten, Frank Weston, Dom Gregory and countless others who shaped Anglican eucharistic and liturgical thought. One cannot forget the historical and liturgical undertakings of the Henry Bradshaw Society, Dr John Wickham Legg, William Stubbs, Dr Pusey, even Newman before he poped. The Church of England has made an enormous contribution to the broader Christian Church that cannot be forgotten or underestimated.'
"This seems very fair. Is the Roman communion so destitute of virtues and laurels that it does not deserve a comparably measured and charitable assessment? Are its liturgical errors so grave that it has been no better than a circus for the last six centuries? Are its doctrines so thoroughly corrupt that it did no good for that duration of Western Christendom in which the Pope was a figure of power? Are its errors so noxious that none of its saints, thinkers, and teachers count for anything? The Roman heritage is complex and variable, and though we can all agree that the overwhelming taste of its modern residue is as bitter as the muddied dregs of an bad wine, we must also recognise that not everything in the history of Roman church had this same evil flavour. I think that in abominating Rome outright you are falling prey to the same absolutism of attitude that leads the traddies you despise to accept its claims outright. I think your approach to the established church would serve as a better model of the right understanding of Rome than your current attitude of vehement hostility."
First of all, let me qualify my use of the terms "Papal Communion," and "papist." I don't use these terms in an invidious sense or to cause needless offense but there seems to me to be no other accurate way of expressing the Roman principle that obedience to the pope is the articulus stantis vel cadentis ecclesiae. The fact that schism is defined in Roman canon law as "the withdrawal of submission to the Roman Pontiff," to me, speaks volumes about the centrality of man (and therefore superstition) to this religion. A man who claims the fullness of apostolic power and authority on earth as God's "vicar" (which is Latin for substitute). A man who claims to be infallible. A man who claims to himself full, actual and immediate jurisdiction over you, me, his bishops; every man, woman and child in this world, emperors, kings, imams and rabbis, irrespective of rank or station. No wonder the first English Protestants cried with furor in their new liturgy for the good Lord to deliver them from Popish tyranny! As for me, I look forward to the deaths of popes for the blessed period of sede vacante, during which not a single rational soul in this world claims such authority to himself. The trouble is Benedict XVI has set a very bad precedent. Now there are two old gentlemen in white! One a middle-class, mediocre octogenarian, whose alleged "ill health" doesn't seem to have killed him three years after he resigned for that reason; the other a flippant old Peronist whose many scandalous remarks have conspicuously not been condemned by the other, despite their outward difference.

Now, you may say that I digress but I don't. The Papacy is, besides sin, the one principal dividing force within Christianity. Upon no other person or doctrine rests so much controversy, so much arrogance, so much hubris, so much pretense and above all so much blasphemy. A triple crown, I have heard it said; one for blasphemy, one for schism and one for heresy. There are still apologists for papal supremacy out there, mostly idealogues with rose-tinted spectacles. Fr John Hunwicke is one, who often says that Pastor Aeternus put limits upon papal authority by a farrago of linguistic subtleties and nuances. That may be so but Magna Carta put limits upon the King of England, and history shews that Henry VIII wielded more power than King John. Just as Pastor Aeternus, allegedly, put limits upon the Pope of Rome, so Pius X and Pius XII wielded more power, effectively, than their mediaeval predecessor Innocent III. They may not have deposed kings or placed empires under interdict but their legacy of violence and innovation will outlast Innocent III, and will last for all time. Their reforms, completed by their successors Paul VI and John Paul II, will not be reversed by any future pope or council, as have few ecclesiastical reforms at any time. As for Benedict XVI, what can I say? I am astounded, and I lay awake some nights thinking about it, that this blatantly disingenuous man has achieved such success. Like his old friend John Paul II, he has been the most "establishmentarian," or party-line, pope since Pius XII. The words "Vatican II," and "Novus Ordo" run through him like a stick of rock and yet he has managed to pose, since the mid-1980's when he was the old Inquisitor, as a kind of reticent critic of both these things, with a few off-the-cuff remarks, and a few haphazard gestures not unlike pope Francis; the difference being that, in the form of published books, they seem better thought-out than Francis' verbal diarrhoea. (On this subject, before I forget, it behoves us to remember Cardinal Burke's treatment, a man whose unbelievably shallow opinions and dogmatics run counter to the reforming spirit of the past fifty years and, unlike establishment Ratzinger, he is not promoted to the highest bureaucratic office of the Curia but is exiled to Malta). One day Ratzinger would accuse Gaudium et Spes of Pelagianism, the next day he would celebrate Mass (in the Novus Ordo, of course), ad orientem out of choice rather than duty, in a fine, embroidered chasuble, with the papal fanon and a 19th century crozier. No substance at all, just an arbitrary veneer. I distinctly remember that disgraceful Mass in Westminster Cathedral during the papal visit in 2010 which my fellow parishioners in Blackfen all acclaimed as so wonderful, "reform in continuity," or whatever the phrase is, and they couldn't understand my disgust with it, or the disparity I pointed out between it and the service of "ecumenical" Evensong in Westminster Abbey, which was dumbed-down and abridged and yet was still far superior in standard. What is it about this rancid old queen that people find so appealing?

I could go on and on like this but I really have digressed now. Hisperic asks whether the Papal Communion is so destitute of virtues, that it's liturgical errors are so grave, and its doctrine so corrupt that it warrants no measure or charity on my part. Measure and charity are overrated in dealing with such an institution but I'll do my best. I've dealt enough with the Papacy, which both Napoleon and Garibaldi had the opportunity to destroy but sadly didn't, so where do you start? Well, since it's that time of year, what about Corpus Christi? A feast that not only renders obsolete and irrelevant the Mass of the Lord's Supper in its proper Holy Week context but since mediaeval times has been a scandal, an occasion of superstition, of frolicking about in the summer sun like Bacchus and Silenus, of prostration before a round piece of wafer (like the Sun), suspended in a monstrance in a sun-golden hue, with rays coming from it (like the Sun)...seems very pagan to me. A piece of wafer which we're told contains the full sacrament of Christ's Body and Blood; which profoundly mistaken view, like enforced clerical celibacy, led to a sharper disparity between priest and people than was ever intended by the Gospel. This was only corrected in the Latin Rite within the lifetime of my parents. Or what about the cult, so central in popular Popery, of the "Sacred Heart?" An extravagance and heresy condemned by two Ecumenical Councils. Or the absolute and irrevocable decline of liturgy following the reforms of the Council of Trent, which recognised low Mass as a legitimate form of divine service and not a mediaeval abuse, as it should have done; not to mention the other shortcomings of that disgraceful synod. The maintenance of divine worship in a tongue not understanded of the people, which had Rome authorised the use of vernacular tongues might just have stimulated a renaissance of liturgical piety and devotion in the people, and might even have successfully countered the Reformation. The continued denial of the Chalice to the laity; the transfer of liturgical regulation from diocesan bishops to the Papacy, and thence to a central committee; the setting up of the "Index of Forbidden Books" to stifle free debate. We're constantly told by apologists of the "traditional Latin Mass" that the Tridentine reforms were minimal, but go into any major cathedral church in Europe and you will not find a Rood Loft or chancel screen, which were all used in divine service before the Reformation. Why? They were mostly dismantled and destroyed following the introduction of the reformed Missal and Breviary, and so any visual continuity with the Middle Ages has disappeared from the most prominent churches on the continent. During the 17th and 18th century a period of liturgical revival against these Ultramontane encroachments flourished in France and elsewhere, misnamed "Gallicanism," which was soon condemned and crushed by Rome, and then ridiculed by Dom Guéranger, one of the most arrogant and destructive men of the 19th century.

Fast forward to 2015. On the morning of Sunday 13th September I went into two churches in Ulster, one an Anglican church, the other a typical Roman church. In one there was hearty congregational singing of "The Royal Banners forward go," at a dignified service in honour of the Holy Cross; naughty that it was a day too early but I forgave them that considering what came after. At the other, which had a choir, I was bemused to see a priest in his late sixties struggling to read from his newly-imposed English translation, which his congregation declined to use, and the choir treated us with the "Butterfly Song," one stanza of which began: "if I were a wiggly worm." No prizes for guessing which church was the Papist one. Now, this twenty-minute service is no older in ethos than the 1960's; in text it is, what, five years old? It was spoken (not sung) in a language that is banal, artificial and pretentious. It was said facing the wrong way, by a priest in a hideous chasuble, on his own, except for two altar girls and two lay extraordinary ministers. It was an embarrassing dialogue by a priest using one language with an apathetic congregation using another, without really understanding the meaning, who stand, sit and kneel at different parts as though these postures (except standing) have some significance, who then shake hands with each other, and then queue up to be given the booby prize for turning up, a stale, tasteless, sticky wafer that gets stuck between your teeth, which is apparently the most precious thing on earth. It was, as "hisperic" said, no better than a circus, although I vaguely remember from my earliest days being at least mildly entertained by circuses.

What's the alternative in the Latin Rite? Well, there isn't one in rural Ireland, unless you're prepared to defect to the Anglicans (which my uncle did). In England and America you've got the Lefebvrists, if you like the company of repressed homosexuals, or else some other church, tolerated (perforce!) by the local bishop, as hideous as the church I have just described but in a sort of chipped statue, brick Gothic sort of way; for another said service, mumbled in Latin, &c, &c, and a parody of the pre-Conciliar church. And these people aren't like the majority of Roman Catholics, whom I have always found to be congenial, genuine people; most of them are nasty; they have an axe to grind with the Established Church ("they're our churches, really..."), they're Jacobites, they bemoan the victory of their own country against Spanish aggression in 1588, and they see nothing schismatic or scandalous about having a hierarchy in a country that is already Christian against the hierarchy that was established here in the 7th century. As Littledale says: "they set up altar against altar, deny the rightful claims of the native Church, and endeavour to entice away its members; and that not to a purer religion and a holier standard, but to heresy in doctrine, idolatry, or at least gross superstition, in practice, and an altogether lower level of Christian ethics." If they've really gone they live life as though it is 1955 all over again!

In many ways, "hisperic" complains about an institution that was. Many of the objections I have raised against Rome are out of date. Indeed, many of the objections raised by St Photius the Great, the Reformers themselves, and polemicists to-day are futile, having been perfunctorily addressed by Rome or having simply fallen into abeyance by neglect. Popular religion has taken over completely within the Papal Communion. It has degraded to a tribal cesspool of credulity and superstition. It has very little power left, but like a toothless snake can crawl where it will. Liturgy is no more; Tradition has been legislated out of existence by the "living magisterium." Who now, except the traditionalists, believes in Papal infallibility? And that belief must surely quail at every utterance of the pope! The whole thing is stone dead. There were, aforetime, men of good will and sound mind who took heart against the liturgical wilderness and sought to revive a sense of traditional praxis. Arthur Crumly was one. But their efforts were stopped by philistines who complained to the powers that be (...ordained of God?...) that their actions were schismatic, illegal, and very, very naughty. The whole thing is stone dead. As St Tikhon of Moscow said of Lenin's tomb when the sewage system leaked: "the balm accords with the relics."

As for the many distinguished men and women of the Papal Communion, poets, essayists, liturgists, theologians, historians, philosophers, artists, &c, who am I to judge? I can't perceive with living sight to the depths of their hearts, and who are we to say that their talents would not have been in the service of some other church, had the circumstances of their birth or time been different? I rejoice in the beauty of Michelangelo, Dante and Victoria. But whenever I think of Popery to-day, instead I see Torquemada, I see the Spanish conquest of the Americas, Magdalene laundries in Ireland. Is my attitude of vehement hostility justified, then?

Sunday, 22 May 2016

Three new posts...

See Fr Andrew's latest posts over at Orthodox England:

The New World Order and Humanophobia.
[glad to see he is in favour of leaving the EU, which is what the "new world order" is. The Antichrist will be a European Jew, I think. Will Israel wish to join the EU after Turkey's accession?
Fr Andrew mentions the Scots too. Clearly he doesn't like the idea of "Great Britain." To be honest, neither do I these days. The Union is not sacrosanct, and has been incrementally compromised since Irish disestablishment, increased devolution, and its death blow was the Good Friday Agreement. There is little point on maintaining the union when the people themselves are only too happy to sever all ties; just like the Irish. Also, why fret over our Union when the European Union has swallowed up our sovereignty and independence anyway?]

Would You Like to be a Spy, Sir? How I Failed to Become a British Spy (Twice).
[nobody has ever approached me in this way before. I'm just not important enough, and I would be as hopelessly bad at espionage as I am at my day job].

Ten More Russian Orthodox Churches for the East of England?
[I wish them well. I would, however, make a slight correction: Cambridge is not a true city because it has no cathedral. And what about building a Russian church in Sidcup, rather than East London where you have difficulty finding a white face? And why encourage the Russian ethnicity diluting Englishness on English soil? I am willing to concede to Moscow the status of Third Rome but I am by no means willing to ascribe to Slavs a kind of superiority because of that. The Church is universal, not Russian, or Roman].

Saturday, 21 May 2016

Nitpicking...


The Papal communion is fundamentally ridiculous. If it was standing at railway stations asking for money nobody would give any. And you may say that this series of posts on the latest "apostolic" exhortation has nothing to do with me but it seems a little bit sad for anybody, and not just anybody but a respectable, intelligent priest, to sift through magisterial documents with a view to choosing what to believe and uphold, and what to discard like an old newspaper. It's ludicrous! Nobody with even half a wit can be taken in by what Rome says, and the people who genuinely believe it are without exception unbelievably shallow. What holds the Papal communion together? Stupidity and tribalism seem to me to be the only two things for most Roman Catholics. Converts? Well, you just have to wonder why they would reject some fatuous document with the word "apostolic" tagged onto it if they don't actually believe everything from start to finish, top to bottom, and everything in between. What do they believe? What do they really want? Because it seems to me that such people have chased a fool's fire to the ends of the earth only to find that the sea has no shore, the grass is not greener, that their imagined utopia, the perfect society on earth, is just as spurious as the Church of England. They don't like it, in fact they hate it, but they're desperate to justify its existence by salami slicing off bits that they don't like and vainly imagining that the old temporal power will return, that some future pope will don a triple crown and celebrate a 1962 mass, and that some goddess' "immaculate heart" will prevail. It won't happen. The barque of Peter is a sinking ship. Get out while you can!

Of course you know that people despise your opinions when they don't even acknowledge or review what you say.

Friday, 20 May 2016

Photographs...

Taken on the morning of 15th September 2015 in Ballybofey. Lest it be lost forever...

Very few photographs (of the very few that were taken) of me within the last ten years have survived. This is personally regrettable but is due almost entirely to the wonders of modern technology. The last time I used a real, old-fashioned camera with a film was eleven years ago when I went to Germany, and I don't think I ever had the photographs developed. Afterwards mobile telephones and digital cameras took over. I was late in acquiring a mobile telephone. I certainly didn't have one at school. Neither did my parents in those days. And I have never owned a digital camera. My mother bought me a cheap mobile telephone as a Christmass present in 2006 because I was going into West London everyday and she thought I should take advantage of this new technology to keep in contact. It transpired that I dropped out of Heythrop at this time and I seldom used the wretched thing anyway. But despite the phone's camera facility I never took any photographs on it. Longing, stupidly, to move with the times, in January 2009 I purchased an Apple iPhone (the 3GS model), and I have been saddled with one since. It was at this time that I first joined Facebook, and Facebook was the forum to upload all the photographs you could take. Most of my friends at the time were busy uploading "selfies," which to me seemed a form of idolatry; whereas I was content to take photos of days out to the country, or visits to churches, &c. I can't recall how often this happened but my iPhone "crashed" several times, and I never had enough sense to back my photos up. As a result, and coupled with my Facebook account deletion, I have very few photographs of myself, or my family, or any occasion, roughly between the years 2005 and to-day. Even my present iPhone "crashed" over a year ago, and I lost everything, so any of the hundreds of photographs I took on my present iPhone are lost, forever.

I only say that the loss of these photographs is regrettable because when I was in Ireland back in September I was delighted to spend an afternoon going through my grandmother's many voluminous photo albums, handsomely bound, precious troves of memories. Looking at the photographs (many of which she hadn't seen since they were taken), she would say something like: "Oh, let me think. That was taken, erm, before I went to Spain with Frederick [my grandfather], and you can tell that it was taken before 1965 because I was wearing those pearls, which were an anniversary present." Or to another photograph, she would say: "Oh, I remember this! That's Antony Tudor and me at Covent Garden, about 19....59, I think." To a very old one (with a drop of white paint on it) she said: "That's Fiddy [my great uncle Fidelis] and me, when I was about two."

These photo albums were locked in a cupboard in one of the upstairs bedrooms. That is to say, they occupied a physical space, were treated with some care and reverence, and seeing them brought back emotive memories. It seems to me that with the loss of my own photographs "into the stratosphere," as O'Brien might say, I have nothing to look back on in the dark years to come with fondness. Who is to say that some other tragedy, like the loss of the 755 pictures in my iPhone "camera roll" now, are not going to be lost forever? Except the few that I have uploaded to this blog, the rest are gone forever. And it seems to me also that with the modern fetish for "selfies," and junk photographs, uploaded daily to social media which get a quick "like" from friends; the memories most people have of life are cheapened significantly. You can say the same about e-mail. I visited a friend of mine in London some years ago who shewed to me a letter, dated, I think, 1991. It occupied a physical space, was preserved with care against dust and wear, and was quite old. I have no e-mails now beyond the year 2012 (due to another technological tragedy), and albeit I have tried to go through the best of them, and saved them, printed a few, it's just not the same as a one-and-only, kindly epistle from some distinguished person who can write decent prose in good will. We're entering a very ethereal, unreal future. To what extent is the Internet real?

Perhaps Fr Chadwick might say that this has some Gnostic influence? I don't know enough. But I do know that I was somewhat envious of my grandmother who had all those old cards and pictures.

Riddles in the Dark...


This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.
J.R.R. Tolkien

Thursday, 19 May 2016

Now is the month of Maying...


And my English teacher (a Papist) told me that England never had a Renaissance, but a Reformation instead.

Wednesday, 18 May 2016

Jesus of Nazareth...


I never thought to find this on YouTube but this is the complete "Jesus of Nazareth" mini series. My mother bought me the DVD (when DVD's were quite new-fangled), which I now know to be an abridged version. I am torn on the subject of any man, however good an actor, impersonating Christ or the propriety of turning Scripture into theatre, but I found this series to be generally good, and with a superb cast (James Mason, Lawrence Olivier, Anne Bancroft, Peter Ustinov, and, of course, Robert Powell). One criticism I would venture to make is the inconsistent use of Scripture. The series doesn't seem to follow a single translation, or one that I know of, and fluctuates between archaisms like "who art in heaven" in the Sermon on the Mount and a more modern style in other parts; although that probably has more to do with intelligibility and reaching a wider audience than a director's oversight. The King James Bible is perfect for preaching and rote memorisation but transported into a television series and it could have an undesired effect; that is to say, people might say "people don't talk in that lofty way in everyday life." The trouble there is that for people like me, who learn much better by listening to a text or piece of music over and over and over, is that we might commit to our memories an unsuitable translation no older than the 1970's. There is no clearer catholicity than in uttering the Scripture in the same words and structure as our long fathers of old.

Another criticism would be the sort of Miltonian, anti-hero treatment of Judas Iscariot. The Gospel is quite clear that Satan entered into him (John 13:27), whereas in the series he seems disillusioned, idealistic and somewhat naive.

Anyway, if you haven't already seen it, please do. It's much better than that Mel Gibson film, which was sadistic tripe.