The Cornell Society for a Good Time

Blogger, Ave atque Vale

2007-03-15T08:21:00.000-04:00

The time has come for us to say farewell to Blogger and all its works and pomps. From today, please visit us at our new location:

CornellSociety.org

Please Note that, in celebration of our move, we'll be having new posts every day for at least the next week - so come check out our new home!

How to Make a Martyr

2007-03-14T00:27:00.000-04:00

Seeing as how we’re in the middle of Lent, I thought it might be appropriate to have a post reflecting on the meaning of martyrdom. We’ve touched on this a few times in reference to specific examples, and I’ve discussed the topic personally with Iosephus, Iacobus and the Doctor, but I’m not sure we’ve ever opened it up for general discussion. The question is: what makes a martyr?

Of course, in general terms, a martyr is a witness to the faith, and the term has come to be used for one whose death serves as a witness to the faith. Distinguishing who qualifies as a martyr and who doesn’t seems to be a worthwhile endeavor, if only for this reason: martyrs are said to be “baptized in blood” such that they are cleansed of all sins and guaranteed passage into paradise. As it was explained to me, martyrs will not even need to spend any time in Purgatory; they get to make a beeline straight for the Beatific Vision. So, how does one go about becoming a martyr?

I propose three requirements, which seem common to all the stories of Christian martyrdom that I know.

1. A martyr must be killed for the faith. Since a martyr’s death bears witness to the faith, he must have been killed as a direct result of his faithfulness to Christ.

2. He must have some opportunity to avoid death by betraying his Christian commitment. Thus, death must in some sense be actively chosen in preference to apostasy.

3. A Christian martyr must display a loving attitude towards his oppressors. Unlike the Muslims, we do not grant suicide bombers or others who kill in hatred the status of martyrs. There must be some clear indication that the martyr forgives those who have wronged him.

The first requirement is fairly straightforward. The second, however, poses some interesting problems. To me, at least, it does seem that a martyr must make some kind of conscious choice that death is better than betrayal. An example might make clear what the concern is here. Suppose that a Catholic-hating maniac (a Mason, say) happens to learn that I am Catholic, climbs McGraw tower (a high tower overlooking Cornell’s campus) and snipes me as I walk unawares across the quad. I don’t think that alone would satisfy the conditions for making me a martyr. If I die instantly, without even knowing what was going on, I don’t seem to have consciously “witnessed” for the faith; for all anyone knows, I would have buckled immediately had I been warned in advance of what dangers lay in store. If that were sufficient, then any Catholic, no matter how lapsed, would potentially be a martyr even without repenting if only someone was crazy enough to kill them on account of their Catholicism. Rule Two rules out cases like that.

The case just described seems easy to me, but there are potentially more difficult ones. Let’s modify the previous example. Again I am sniped by a crazed Mason as I walk across the quad. Again I die instantly, with no ready opportunity to save myself by renouncing the faith. But now we’ll suppose that incidents of this kind have been happening to Catholics all across the country. Perhaps those pernicious Masons are trying to cleanse Academia of Catholics, and so they’re sending spies to take names of those who are assisting at Mass and practicing Catholic devotions. Nasty accidents have been happening to people who dare to be visibly Catholic in a university setting. The fainthearted seek to increase their safety by fleeing to the Episcopal Church and consciously avoiding Catholic activities. (Oddly, I once had a dream to this effect, which is one thing that got me thinking about this subject. In my dream, Catholics all across the country were flocking to Anglicanism to escape this peculiar form of terrorism, so that the Episcopal church up the street was full to bursting while the pews of the Catholic church were nearly empty.) I, though fully aware of the danger, continue assisting at Mass, attending our nightly Rosary group, and wearing my scapular. So, while I’m not offered a direct choice on the particular day that I’m picked off from McGraw Tower, I nonetheless ran a conscious risk in order to continue practicing my faith. In this case, I do look like a kind of “witness” to the faith in the face of death – which would seem to make me a candidate for being considered a martyr.

If that’s true, though, then it should be fairly obvious that there will be all sorts of grey areas. How much risk must a person run in order to count as a martyr if the risks catch up to him? How aware must he be of the danger? We’re tempted to try to solve this with counterfactuals (he wouldn’t have tried to get out of it if he’d been offered the choice) but this gets messy and philosophically complicated.

The third requirement on my list also seems difficult, for somewhat different reasons. How must the martyr express his loving disposition? It seems to me, first of all, that the martyr cannot die while in the process of perpetrating violence. The suicide bomber certainly cannot be a martyr, and I’m inclined to think, at least in the usual case, that the soldier who dies in action also cannot, though his sacrifice might certainly be meritorious for other reasons. Others may disagree, but my feeling is that this would hold even if the Vatican were to assemble an army of good Catholic men to march against hordes of infidels. Such men could certainly win graces for their efforts, and there’s no reason at all why a soldier can’t be loving, but my feeling is that a martyr must clearly be wronged through his death; in a military offensive it’s a complicated question whether or not the enemy is wrong to kill the soldier. The martyr must suffer death both wrongly and innocently and purely on account of his faith.

There’s a multitude of problems raised by the scenario of a holy war, but there are also problems about the directness of the expression of love. The martyr who dies with a beatific smile and “Father, forgive them!” on his lips seems clearly to meet the requirement. What about the martyr who dies scolding? And, more importantly, some deaths will leave little time for any kind of speech. In my sniping case, I probably would not have time to express lovely sentiments, even if my killer were to linger long enough to hear them. Even in a less rapid death, the martyr might have a number of things on his mind in the minutes before the end. It seems a bit harsh to disqualify from martyrdom the Christian who is thrown to the lions on account of his faith, but who finds himself somewhat preoccupied in his last moments with trying to protect his brethren (thrown in at the same time) from the vicious beasts. It would seem rather unfair to the Christian if his enemies could rob him of a martyr’s death merely by killing him so quickly that he never had a chance to forgive them.

There's no denying that I have more questions than answers on this subject, but ere I conclude, I should mention that there are a few problem cases in the martyrology who call both my second and my third requirements into question. The Holy Innocents may be the hardest case: they are often said to be martyrs, but they presumably did not have a choice regarding whether to die, and they were too young to forgive their oppressors. (I’ve also heard it said that the unborn victims of abortion are saved by virtue of being baptized in blood, but I don’t know how widespread or well-founded that saying is.)
I suppose the moral may be in the end that, as with so many other things, we need the Church to tell us who really died as martyrs and who didn’t. Most of us probably won’t ever have the opportunity to die for the faith, so the example of the martyrs isn’t likely to have that kind of brute practical significance for us. But who can tell? Elsewhere on this blog I have speculated that a new era of martyrdom might be precisely what is needed to answer the threat of Islam and cleanse the Church at the same time. Particularly for those of our readers who live in Europe, there is always the possibility that that the struggle may come to their doors. The Church has faced dangers in every age, and we would all do well to prepare ourselves in case our turn should come.

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Sacramentum Caritatis: Interesting Bits

2007-03-13T08:13:00.000-04:00

Reading through the new Exhortation,
Sacramentum Caritatis now, I must admit I'm a bit disappointed -- not surprised, really, but not thrilled with it. But there are some bits that are interesting, so I thought I'd excerpt them here. Fellow Cornellians, please feel free to add anything you feel I've missed.

Also, be sure to read the comments offered by the inimitable New Catholic.

¶21.In this regard, it is important that the confessionals in our churches should be clearly visible expressions of the importance of this sacrament. I ask pastors to be vigilant with regard to the celebration of the sacrament of Reconciliation, and to limit the practice of general absolution exclusively to the cases permitted, (61) since individual absolution is the only form intended for ordinary use. (62) Given the need to rediscover sacramental forgiveness, there ought to be a Penitentiary in every Diocese. (63) Finally, a balanced and sound practice of gaining indulgences, whether for oneself or for the dead, can be helpful for a renewed appreciation of the relationship between the Eucharist and Reconciliation. By this means the faithful obtain "remission before God of the temporal punishment due to sins whose guilt has already been forgiven." (64) The use of indulgences helps us to understand that by our efforts alone we would be incapable of making reparation for the wrong we have done, and that the sins of each individual harm the whole community. Furthermore, the practice of indulgences, which involves not only the doctrine of Christ's infinite merits, but also that of the communion of the saints, reminds us "how closely we are united to each other in Christ ... and how the supernatural life of each can help others." (65) Since the conditions for gaining an indulgence include going to confession and receiving sacramental communion, this practice can effectively sustain the faithful on their journey of conversion and in rediscovering the centrality of the Eucharist in the Christian life.

¶42. Finally, while respecting various styles and different and highly praiseworthy traditions, I desire, in accordance with the request advanced by the Synod Fathers, that Gregorian chant be suitably esteemed and employed (130) as the chant proper to the Roman liturgy (131).

¶51. Finally, I would like to comment briefly on the observations of the Synod Fathers regarding the dismissal at the end of the eucharistic celebration. After the blessing, the deacon or the priest dismisses the people with the words: Ite, missa est. These words help us to grasp the relationship between the Mass just celebrated and the mission of Christians in the world. In antiquity, missa simply meant "dismissal." However in Christian usage it gradually took on a deeper meaning. The word "dismissal" has come to imply a "mission." These few words succinctly express the missionary nature of the Church. The People of God might be helped to understand more clearly this essential dimension of the Church's life, taking the dismissal as a starting- point. In this context, it might also be helpful to provide new texts, duly approved, for the prayer over the people and the final blessing, in order to make this connection clear (154).

¶62. None of the above observations should cast doubt upon the importance of such large-scale liturgies. I am thinking here particularly of celebrations at international gatherings, which nowadays are held with greater frequency. The most should be made of these occasions. In order to express more clearly the unity and universality of the Church, I wish to endorse the proposal made by the Synod of Bishops, in harmony with the directives of the Second Vatican Council, (182) that, with the exception of the readings, the homily and the prayer of the faithful, such liturgies could be celebrated in Latin. Similarly, the better-known prayers (183) of the Church's tradition should be recited in Latin and, if possible, selections of Gregorian chant should be sung. Speaking more generally, I ask that future priests, from their time in the seminary, receive the preparation needed to understand and to celebrate Mass in Latin, and also to use Latin texts and execute Gregorian chant; nor should we forget that the faithful can be taught to recite the more common prayers in Latin, and also to sing parts of the liturgy to Gregorian chant. (184)

This, apparently, offered to satisfy Sandro Magister ...

Eucharistic celebrations in small groups
63. A very different situation arises when, in the interest of more conscious, active and fruitful participation, pastoral circumstances favour small group celebrations. While acknowledging the formative value of this approach, it must be stated that such celebrations should always be consonant with the overall pastoral activity of the Diocese. These celebrations would actually lose their catechetical value if they were felt to be in competition with, or parallel to, the life of the particular Church. In this regard, the Synod set forth some necessary criteria: small groups must serve to unify the community, not to fragment it; the beneficial results ought to be clearly evident; these groups should encourage the fruitful participation of the entire assembly, and preserve as much as possible the unity of the liturgical life of individual families. (185)

¶69 In new churches, it is good to position the Blessed Sacrament chapel close to the sanctuary; where this is not possible, it is preferable to locate the tabernacle in the sanctuary, in a sufficiently elevated place, at the centre of the apse area, or in another place where it will be equally conspicuous.

Note the persistence of the bad English translation here:

Footnote (57) For example, the Confiteor, or the words of the priest and people before receiving Communion: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed."

Footnote (150) Taking into account ancient and venerable customs and the wishes expressed by the Synod Fathers, I have asked the competent curial offices to study the possibility of moving the sign of peace to another place, such as before the presentation of the gifts at the altar. To do so would also serve as a significant reminder of the Lord's insistence that we be reconciled with others before offering our gifts to God (cf. Mt 5:23 ff.); cf. Propositio 23.

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Sprinting Away from Planned Parenthood

2007-03-12T23:17:00.000-04:00

I'm generally not one to get behind commercial boycotts, but this has me quite agahst. My cell phone provider—Sprint—has decided to lease space on their network to, of all people, Planned Parenthood. You can thus now sign up for Planned Parenthood Wireless, and have 10% of your cell phone charges go to help kill babies. Obviously, this has Clara and me very concerned and we're looking to switch providers. I really hate this in no small part because I have actually liked Sprint (for the data services), but we obviously cannot remain with them in good conscience. The key question, though, is how we can make it clear that this is the reason we are leaving. If you, or anybody you know, has Sprint you should probably be looking to move.

Tradition, Its Maintenance and Form

2007-03-12T08:08:00.000-04:00

Or, A Whupping for the Whapping?

It is sometimes maintained, particularly by brash, if clever, youngsters, that somehow the Traditional Mass could sweep to popularity if only its advocates, attendees, and devotes would be a bit more flexible: "Couldn't it be just a little more participatory?" they opine; "Or at least not be peopled with annoying Saint Pius X quoters -- wouldn't a little JP the Great, or at least Papa BXVI, go a long way to reaching out to Today's Youth?" And while these aren't silly questions, those who ask them have made a fundamental error in their approach to Tradition and modernity.

The snag, you see, is that a novice, an outsider, one trained in the modern ways, is liable to make all manner of errors in his selection of the vital from the peripheral when it comes to sifting the Traditions of the Faith from the traditions of men; and is also very likely to disregard the deep power held by the latter, even while he gives lip service to both. In the case of the young man whose musings have prompted this reply, a frequent suggestion is trotted out: why not go back to the Dialogue Mass? That's pre-Vatican II, but anticipates the sort of "full, active, etc" business that's been such a hit (?) with people since the Council. And while his suggestions have a sort of facile truth -- who wouldn't agree that a young energetic priest's Mass is easier, humanly speaking, to attend to than that of a rickety old priest? -- they are presumptuous to the extreme, in their implication that those who love and provide for the offering of the traditional Rite are somehow all fuddy-duddys who love nothing more than obscurantism and ossification, who would sooner drive off a curious young'un like him than give up their ca. 1920's devotional structure.

Nothing could be further from the truth. For, even while it is true that a number of such grumpy trads are out there, it is not so easy a thing to keep a hold on a traditional devotional life and to traditional piety. Part of the reason for the disaster of the past four decades is the widespread adoption of this attitude: I don't see the need for X; let's drop it. Then why do we have Y? We'll drop that too. And so on.

Instead of such an approach, what we who are young to Tradition must be, first of all, is patient learners and cautious changers. We must first know and love all that is already there, before we make bold to change aught. Until we are very, very familiar with the old way of doing things, we cannot be sure that our preference for the new way is not driven primarily by our pre-existing familiarity. It is a truism that we are most comfortable with that which we already know. This drives, it is true, some of the resistance to cosmetic and more substantive changes to the surrounding pieties of the old Mass; but it also is a significant part of the young and aspirational trad's passion for aggiornamento.

We must never think of ourselves as a marketing team for Tradition^TM, but as servants of God. And if we, as newcomers, should ever decide to promote even a small change in a particular community's local liturgical traditions, we must expect, even encourage, skepticism and resistance. The question one must expect, and be able to answer, is "why should we change for you, when you tell us you aren't interested unless we change? When does this end? If we change one thing, and you say that's not enough, do we change three? Eighteen? Why should you, who by your very demands have shown yourself unwilling to submit to that which you have not yourself chosen, dictate to us what of our own preferences and traditions we must give away?"

To close, I will say -- for completeness and to be fair -- that there are those among the traditionalist movement who have a disordered attachment to various things that are outside the established Tradition. There are some that raise a stink if the gregorian chant chosen for the Mass is changed, crying "how dare you change from Credo III to Credo I!" (true story!). Many others, contrary to the constant teaching of the Popes, maintain that the low Mass is a "higher" form of the Mass than the High, or Solemn Mass. Other crusty old folks can be quite rude to novice trads who haven't yet learned much, berating as-yet ignorant young women over their lack of veils or the like. In these cases, though, human frailty -- not traditionalism as such -- is the culprit, and though we must do what we can to gently correct those in error, we must simultaneously take, ever and always, as guarded and narrow of corrections as necessary, as charity and prudence demand.
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Parenthood as Hobby

2007-03-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve been pondering a question lately… do liberals have a right to have children?

I don’t mean this in the childish, cliché way. That is, I’m not saying that most liberals are such awful people that they should not be perpetuating their genes or their lifestyles. Of course in other posts on this blog, I and my fellow contributors have scorned liberals for not having more kids, so you may think you’ve caught me in a contradiction, but I don’t think that’s the case. The point I want to make is this: liberals may have no right to bear children, because they’re doing it for the wrong sorts of reasons.

I suppose what got me thinking of this was the irritation that I often feel hearing about liberal parents raising their One Perfect Child. Having lived in more than one town filled with educated liberals, I have a multitude of slightly distasteful associations with a particular sort of liberal upbringing: the arbitrary-seeming dietary rules, the special daycares, the politically correct coloring books and television programs. Parents who give their little boys dolls and enroll their little girls in martial arts classes. Just in general, I have a sort of aversion to the idea of the excessively-programmed childhood.

Still, at the same time, I’m admittedly a lot more sympathetic to the same sort of engineering from the other end. Without broaching the difficult topic of homeschooling, I can certainly at least agree that parents are right to read their children Bible stories, to expect them to observe (at appropriate ages) the Church’s feasts and fasts, to observe and regulate the books, music and television through which their children are entertained. All parents will properly make decisions about how their children should be educated and about the environments that are appropriate for them; I may disagree with the decisions that liberals make, but there’s no reason to be irked about the fact that they’re making them. Why, then, do I have this residual feeling that there’s something disturbingly unserious about the liberal approach to parenthood?

I think it really boils down to this: for many people, having kids is something that a person chooses to do, as a part of his own quest for self-fulfillment. The liberal emphasis on autonomy naturally leads one to this sort of view: some people choose to devote their lives to having families, some to furthering careers, some to becoming champion ping-pong players, and all of these are perfectly legitimate so long as the person in question is pleased and happy and not hurting anyone. Obviously as a Catholic, I find this way of looking at things deeply flawed on lots of levels, but with regards to having children it seems particularly depraved. In bringing a person into existence, you are making a very radical choice on behalf of another human being. Far more than just affecting another’s autonomy, you are actually in an important sense causing it to exist. (And indeed, many liberals would probably be happy to say that the parents are the only rational agents responsible for bringing the child into being.)

If, as most liberals seem to believe, becoming a parent is something you decide to do (rather than something that just happens in the natural course of events, or something that you agree to do out of obedience), what could be a sufficient reason for making that decision on behalf of someone else? There's something very disturbing about the idea that I could justify the existence of another life merely on the basis of my desire for the experience of motherhood.

A lot will depend, of course, on the attitude one takes towards life in general. If you suppose that most people are better off existing than not, you’ll probably be less worried about that fact that some people decide to have children, say, just because they think kids are cute. In most cases, they won’t be harming anyone, even if their attitude is reprehensibly frivolous. On the other hand, if you’re inclined towards a more pessimistic view of life generally, you might think it rather barbaric that one person should consign another to endure it, just so that the offspring's early years can be spent as a kind of glorified pet for their parents.

Anyway, I find this line thought-provoking. If parenthood is undertaken as a kind of hobby, is the parent then responsible in some way for the suffering that their offspring will endure in the course of life? The Catholic, without denying the obligation to provide the best upbringing possible for his young, can lessen the emotional burden by viewing the bearing and rearing of children as simultaneously a duty and an honor, and as a task undertaken for holy reasons. If he became a parent out of obedience to God, and did his best to discharge his obligations as a parent, he can reasonably expect God to make it all work out for the best. The truth is, of course, that any child, no matter how carefully his upbringing is planned, may go astray in one way or another, and some parental decisions will turn out for the worse. Seeing one's child turn to sorrow or sin must under any circumstances be deeply painful, but the liberal, unlike the Catholic, must bear the full weight of the responsibility himself.

Well, in this spirit, I thought I'd include this poem by Wendell Berry. It is titled, To My Children, Fearing for Them

Terrors are to come. The earth
is poisoned with narrow lives.
I think of you. What you will

live through, or perish by, eats
at my heart. What have I done? I
need better answers than there are

to the pain of coming to see
what was done in blindness,
loving what I canot save. Nor,

your eyes turning towards me,
can I wish your lives unmade
though the pain of them is on me.

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From a draft of Sacramentum caritatis

2007-03-06T14:46:00.001-05:00

In answer to my President's call for more information and speculation about the soon-to-be released Sacramentum caritatis, I thought that it wouldn't be out of order to contact some of my, well, contacts in Rome to see if I couldn't pry from them the first sentence of the document. I mean, come on, that's not too much to ask, is it? The first sentence is generally a lot of fluff, but it often contains some interesting hints about the general tone of the whole document. Plus, with a title like "Sacramentum caritatis" the first thing everyone is thinking is: "Is 'sacramentum' in the nominative or the accusative?'" Thankfully - or Ambrosius would have been angry with me - they were willing to oblige:

Sacramentum caritatis quod fundamentum Ecclesiae spiritualeque Christianae in via vitae fastigium est et quod cum longius in obscurissimis degeret plagis propter improbissimos patres Secundi Vaticani Concilii male agentes atque perverse cogitantes, nunc tamen hodie Nostra auctoritate propria ad derigendam Sancti Petri, Principis Apostolorum, navem concitata et magis atque magis auxiliis Sanctissimae Dei Genetricis ac semper Virginis et praecipue Sancti Pii illius nominis quinti et alterius eximii decessoris Nostri Sancti Pii decimi imploratis, clara declaramus voce secundum illam priscam formam veterioris ritus venerabilisque quem sacra Tridentina synodus adprobavit sanxitque numquam abrogatum esse, quippe qui nequaquam posset aboleri; praeterea dispectis omnibus infelicibus innovationibus vel magis manifestioribus erroribus ritus novae Missae promulgatae a Paulo Sexto, infelicis liturgicae memoriae, in ignes iubemus flagrantissimos ipsum ritum iaci et eodem tempore conficere episcopos Christifidelium et ceteros superiores videlicet religiosos plenam instaurationem latissimumque ritus Sancti Pii Quinti imperamus.

I don't know what you all think, but sounds promising to me . . .

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Sacramentum Caritatis: What to Look For

2007-03-06T08:26:00.000-05:00

Only the laziest slug-a-bed on the East coast will not yet know of today's announced March 13th release date for Pope Benedict's long-awaited Post-Synodal Exhortation, which we now know will be called Sacramentum Caritatis. So, rather than just waiting 'round till next week to see what it actually says, I thought I'd toss up this post as a clearing house for the members of our august Society to give their "things to look for" in the Exhortation when it does arrive. My own list of things-to-note:

1) Ratio of references to and quotes drawn from Vatican II + John Paul II to everything else. The question is whether this is 20-to-1 or 10-to-1. Bonus points for any mention of Trent or even St. Pius X
2) Mention of Mass said ad Orientem. Even a whiff of this would tempt me to break my Lenten fast in celebration.
3) Weasel words, or words with force? If the tone is, "in communion with the exhortations of the second Vatican Council, we encourage blah blah blah," forget it. But if a few "We declare and command"s or similar verbiage sneaks in, watch out!

My fellow bloggers, your thoughts? Readers, your concerns?

Update: It's Out. Commentary will be here
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Where are the traditional pre-seminary options?

2007-03-05T17:55:00.000-05:00

Partly because I was thinking about St. Gregory's Academy on account of their very cool '67 Ford Mustang raffle, so later last night, I was wondering what a boy of high school age, who is favorably inclined towards religion or the priesthood, is to do when he reaches college age. This particular question had never struck me before: there are, after all, by this date, more than a few solidly orthodox Catholic colleges. They're not yet traditionalist colleges - though the SSPX does have one - but they're certainly far better than Georgetown or Marquette, say, in terms of orthodoxy. Places like the University of Dallas, Christendom College, and Thomas Aquinas College come to mind. But there's something missing, as it were, in each of these places: an all male environment.

No, the preceding sentences weren't a prelude in defense of Bishop Williamson's sound counsel that women should stay home from college. Instead, bracketing that question, I think that all of us traditionalists and perhaps even some Novus types can see the importance of at least the opportunity for an all boys college education.

There are certainly reasons why even worldly folks would want, for a time, to leave aside the company of the opposite sex in order to devote themselves more exclusively to the cultivation of the mind and the advancement of knowledge. While distractions can come in many forms, the absence of the opposite sex seems to me to be a not insignificant difference in the college environment: a pretty girl a few desks over, dating, dressing to impress, the different social dynamics of mixed sex groups are potentially great distractions, especially at the college age. Such reasons, at least in part, were presumably the motivation for places like Oxford to remain all male long after the University had ceased to be something of a monastic institution or even to be Catholic. Such also were presumably the reasons, at least in part, for the foundations of all men and all women liberal arts colleges in the United States.

But what I have in mind are not only reasons which anyone intent on serious learning or discipline could appreciate, but the specifically religious and Catholic motivation of cultivating a religious vocation or calling to the priesthood. Haven't we all heard, either personally or in another form, of the men who in the old days went off to seminary at age 12? I always thought that sounded ridiculous: no one can enter seminary, properly so-called, at the age of 12. But what I take it they had in mind in saying that they entered "seminary" at that age was that they began an education track which would eventually deposit them in seminary at the proper age and which before that time would instill in them the discipline and religion which would make it easy for them to stick with it until ordination. It was theirs to opt out of at anytime, if they had wanted. Importantly, I think, it was all male from start to finish.

Now what about today? Say a young man has been home-schooled, then gone, possibly, to a boys' Catholic high school, and now he must find a place to complete his education before he can enter Our Lady of Guadalupe seminary. There are a number of good Catholic colleges from which to pick. He goes off to college, and like most young people, this is his first time away from home (say). In this Catholic college, he is surrounded by many others like himself, who are also thinking of the priesthood and religion. There are also many others who are discerning; there are still others somewhat discerning and mostly not; there are others for whom a celibate life is definitely not in the cards. There are many, hundreds even, of sweet, pretty, orthodox Catholic girls in this place; like the boys, some of them are serious about a vocation, others are ambivalent, and others are already set upon marriage.

Unless this young man is to segregate himself within this community or is exceptionally gifted with the grace of continence and chastity, this environment will certainly prove to be a challenge to his initial intention to enter religion or the priesthood. At least, such is my intuition. He will, perhaps, be better off down the road for having faced this initial test in which on nearly any day he could abandon his plan and set off on the road towards marriage. But I think that there was wisdom in the old system which enabled those who wanted to do so to spend the college years and, indeed, all the years of their education, in a non co-ed enviroment.

My guess is that if this kind of option were made available or made available on a wider scale, there would be an increase in priestly "vocations". For when boys and girls are pluncked down in the same place, in large numbers, are taught that religion and marriage are both wonderful, beautiful gifts of God - no pressure! - I think it's reasonable that many will marry who would have, in a different enviroment, entered religion or the priesthood.

So it seems strange to me that we as tradtionalists have home-schooling, perhaps through the end of high school, or places like St. Gregory's, but then for college, our children confront a mixed sex environment on a large scale, possibly for the first time, and away from home. If the Church in the past nutured and groomed even young boys who seemed apt for the priesthood, from grammar school to the priesthood, why don't we have something similar in place today?

Incidentally, I thought I'd mention that a friend of mine from Reggie's course had gone to one of these pre-seminary type colleges in the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. I'm actually not sure whether it was co-ed or all-male, but I did have the impression that it was probably the latter, though maybe this is an unhappy surmise? (Perhaps one of our readers can tell me if such things exist at all in the United States.) But when he got to the seminary proper, as you might have expected, he was weirded out - literally out. Just another item on the lists of things for which the Patriarch of the West will answer at the end.

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Sunday Notes

2007-03-04T18:51:00.001-05:00

It was an interesting Sunday for us at St. Michael's, even if we were deprived of Clara's conversation. First of all, a traditional priest from Nigeria, Fr. Evaristus Eshiowu, F.S.S.P., offered the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. (See more here.) As Fr. Adam Rigourous, F.S.S.P. explained to us before the homily, Fr. Eshiowu is Stateside for awhile in connection with an effort to obtain visas for young Nigerian men who wish to become priests of the traditional rite. Unfortunately, at this time, neither the the local government in Nigeria nor the United States government, explained Fr. Rigourous, has been very cooperative. From the sounds of it, there are a number of young men who would eagerly take up this calling, if the way were opened to them. Please say an Ave that the road may be speedily opened for these men!

As usual, the homily was interesting. We've now come to the Fifth Commandment, Thou Shalt Not Kill, in a series of homilies on the 10 Commandments leading up to Easter. We learned that among the things prohibited by the 5th Commandment is listening to almost any type of modern music, such as rock and roll (so-called), rap, most country western songs, as well as Christian rock. In short, Fr. Adam Rigourous admonished us to avoid any type of music that we would not listen to in company with Our Lord, Our Lady, and the Patron Protector of the Universal Church.

Having, as I do, a very sensual soul, easily swayed towards sin by sinister sounds rhythms, lyrics, and beats, I made something of a conscious decision to cease listening to all such music around the time when I became a Catholic. (Also because my entire collection of that music had been "illegally" downloaded.) So no further problem for me there. But I worry about whether it would be in good taste to listen to Mozart's compositions for the Masons in company with Our Lord, Our Lady, and St. Joseph? I kinda like that music - I mean, I went so far as to buy it - but it seems like it would be offensive to put K. 623, 546, 468, 429 and the like on when the Holy Family stops by for tea (counterfactually-speaking).

Pro absentibus fratribus - oh, which reminds me: for those folks of our Society who are now away from Cornell, I want you to know that you are remembered specially each Saturday night when we pray the Litany of Saints. Of course, that line was originally meant, I guess, for the monks who were travelling away from the monastery, but from the first, whenever we've come to it, I've thought how perfect it is for praying for those who have wandered far from this den of vipers and bastion of liberalism - I mean Ithaca, of course, and not the company of Franciscus and I. : ) And so pro absentibus fratribus, I thought I would mention that we tried a new place in Scranton today for lunch after Mass: Smokey Bones. It was pretty good. I don't know if it was good enough to enter the rotation, but we might have to go there at least once more for the sake of Clara, who was warm in bed while we, with faces bent to the wind, wended our way towards Scranton without her.

And one more thing - I think this is pretty cool! I quote from the website: "Toward the end of the last school year the boys of St. Gregory's Academy helped Fr. J Fryar restore a 1967 Ford Mustang Coupe as an extra-curricular activity. You can find details about the restoration in the links above, and now that the car is restored it will be raffled for the benefit of the school. Support St. Gregory's Academy and the Traditional formation of young boys and buy a ticket or two!" Indeed, do! The St. Michael's bulletin this weekend adds these remarks: "The parish in Pequannock raised over $3,000 for the school. Almost every family in the Sacramento parish made the effort to buy at least one ticket and they raised close to $3,000 too. How about us? Can we?"

Just my opinion, but I think it would bring undying glory to this Society if one of us were to win the car. Iacobus, I expect you to buy enough tickets to mathematically guarantee that you win the car. Doctor Asinorum, you were looking for another car? Well, here it is!

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The 110th Successor of St. Petronius

2007-03-02T17:15:00.001-05:00

As many of you know, Giacomo Cardinal Biffi, the emeritus, if I may, Archbishop of Bologna was chosen by Benedict XVI to preach the Lenten retreat to the Roman Curia. He made waves on Tuesday when, according to Vatican Radio, he told the Holy Father and the assembled prelates that "the Antichrist presents himself as pacifist, ecologist and ecumenist." As I said yesterday to Ambrosius and Iacobus after reading that quotation, "I think we have our marching orders, boys!"

Cardinal Biffi, to be fair, was only quoting from the Russian Orthodox theologian, mystic, and eventual Catholic convert (see here) Alexander Soloviev (1853-1900), a thinker who has been praised by both van Balthasar and Cardinal Ratzinger. But what sass! After how many years of Fr. Raniero Cantelamessa, we're accustomed to less than stellar - and sometimes plain stupid - things being said by those specially chosen to preach to the Roman Pontiff.

If you're interested in reading more about Cardinal Biffi's thoughts in connection with Soloviev, there is this article by the cardinal, "Soloviev and Our Time." It's not long and it's definitely worth every minute! As a traditionalist crazy, I'm struck by the ways in which Soloviev's predictions align with evil plans of the bad guys in Malachi Martin's Windswept House. In particular, I mean the dissolution of individual nation-states, a Church divested of Christ, and the triumph of silly ideologies (enviromentalism, pacificism) over the concerns of salvation.

These lines should be sufficient motivation to read the whole of Cardinal Biffi's article:

One sees here described -- and condemned -- a Christianity of "values," of "openings," of "dialogue," a Christianity where it seems there is little room left for the person of the Son of God crucified for us and risen, little room for the actual event of salvation.

A scenario, I think, that should cause us to reflect...

A scenario in which the faith militant is reduced to humanitarian and generically cultural action, the Gospel message is located in an irenic encounter with all philosophies and all religions and the Church of God is transformed into an organization for social work.

Are we sure Soloviev did not foresee what has actually come to pass? Are we sure it is not precisely this that is the most perilous threat today facing the "holy nation" redeemed by the blood of Christ -- the Church?

It is a disturbing question and one we must not avoid.

There are some fun/funny comments about Biffi in this article about papabile from 2001 (from which I took the picture). Scroll down towards the bottom.

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God's Will in Nature

2007-02-28T16:05:00.000-05:00

Given my great love of literature, art, music, and so many other of the humanist, liberal studies which delight others in the academy, I sometimes sadden a bit that my own chosen field, physics, is less immediately delightful and often merely frustrating. But this morning I remembered this poem by George Meredith and was reminded that, in studying natural Philosophy, I at least am concerned with an arena that is wholly God's, where His will is being worked out in all its delightful precision and beauty; and that is a consoling thought.

Lucifer in Starlight

ON a starr'd night Prince Lucifer uprose.
Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend
Above the rolling ball in cloud part screen'd,
Where sinners hugg'd their spectre of repose.
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.
And now upon his western wing he lean'd,
Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careen'd,
Now the black planet shadow'd Arctic snows.
Soaring through wider zones that prick'd his scars
With memory of the old revolt from Awe,
He reach'd a middle height, and at the stars,
Which are the brain of heaven, he look'd, and sank.
Around the ancient track march'd, rank on rank,
The army of unalterable law.

A Lenten quote from Balthasar

2007-02-27T00:55:00.000-05:00

God's Face like a countenance beaming forth from the darkness: in order to see it we throw everything we possess into the fire -- the world, our joys, our hopes. The flame leaps forth, consumes it all, and in its glow the beloved Face lights up. But the flame dies down, and we feed it with what little remains to us: honor, success, our will, the intellect, our temperament, finally our very self: absume et suscipe -- "take and receive." This is not simple self-giving but, increasingly, the knowledge that I am being taken, that I must surrender. Grace is everything: the moment of God's appearing; grace also every sacrifice the fire snatches from me.

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Standing on Ceremony

2007-02-25T01:57:00.000-05:00

We have a question that I has hoped some of our readers might be able to help us with. It is perhaps known to some of you that a Nuptial Mass is forthcoming with regards to certain persons associated with this blog. What we're interested in is the status of the Solemnization of Matrimony ceremony that appears in both the Angelus and Baronius Press 1962 Missals. Our FSSP priest offhandedly claimed that this ceremony was authorized only for use in Britain, and not in the United States. Indeed it is a much nicer ceremony (more ornate, more genteel, more English(?)) than the one found in the famous white Nuptial Mass Booklet Missals put out by the Ecclesia Dei Coalition. My question is simple: is this, in fact, correct? Is this form of Solemnization of Matrimony not approved for use in the US? And if so, isn't it strange that the Baronius Missal (i.e. the FSSP's "official" pew missal), which carries the Imprimatur of the Bishop of Lincoln, Nebraska, contains a ceremony that cannot be used in his diocese? Obviously, we will use the American ceremony if it is the only one permitted, but we just wanted to make sure that is the case.

Apologies

2007-02-23T21:58:00.000-05:00

Many apologies to our readers for our brief absence!

Mardi Gras

2007-02-20T10:27:00.000-05:00

As a Mardi Gras gift to our readers, I thought I would post for them a recipe for a real Louisiana Chicken and Sausage Gumbo [pdf][doc]. But, of course, the most important thing about today is that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, and it is imperative that Catholics take the season of Lent seriously. As Iosephus observed to me one time, it isn't sensible to have a daylong bacchanalia to introduce the season where you don't eat chocolate. Which is why I would like to encourage our readers to listen rather to the Church, whose traditional Fast for Lent is an excellent means of mortification of the flesh. It also has the benefit of being externally prescribed: one tends to be less inclined to spiritual pride when being obedient to the Church's ideas about what makes for a fast, rather than constructing a fast for oneself. Anyway, here is the fast. Each day of Lent, a "fast and partial abstinence," which means: two small meals: one ~4 ounces (= a bagel, two pieces of toast); one ~8 ounces; and one full-sized meal, with meat taken only at the full meal. On Fridays, the same fast proportions, but with no meat at all -- full abstinence. Simple and effective. Give it a try! (A note: women often have commented to me that they eat less than this anyway. Fine! Just, for Lent, keep it up, but make sure you do it every day, and with partial abstinence and no snacking. It's about obedience, not losing weight. In this vein, you may also want to read Iosephus' fine words on Fasting from last Lent.)

Bertrand Russell gets something right

2007-02-19T17:43:00.000-05:00

Generally speaking, the conventional wisdom about outsiders being able to see things that insiders cannot, fails to hold in matters of the faith. From St. Augustine’s time and before (though St. Anselm is generally credited with the insight) it has been recognized that faith is often a prerequisite to understanding. Many aspects of it will appear arbitrary or even crazy until the sensibilities are properly trained.

Nonetheless, it can be interesting at times to see what vestiges of truth penetrate the warped sensibilities of those who are entirely hostile to the faith. In this spirit, I offer a little excerpt from Bertrand Russell, one of the twentieth century’s rock star atheists. His book, Why I Am Not a Christian, is on the whole a disappointing read if you pick it up hoping for an invigorating challenge. Maybe some day I'll get around to writing a post making fun of him. But he did have a way with words, and the book is peppered with memorable phrases. His essay On Catholic and Protestant Skeptics hones in on a point that I have made before in another form: the seeds of truth are often planted much more deeply in the soul than we ever expect. Even for those Catholics who are trying to lose themselves in the woods, the compass is still calibrated.

Obviously Russell does not put it that way. He only observes that Catholics, even bad ones, seem to feel a very powerful tie to the Church, which continues to follow and haunt them even after they’ve resolved to abandon it. The point of the essay could be boiled down to the following: Protestant “freethinkers” rebel in order to be good; Catholic “freethinkers” rebel in order to be bad. There’s a charming simplicity to this very true observation.

“To the Protestant the exceptionally good man is one who opposes the authorities and the received doctrines, like Luther at the Diet of Worms. The Protestant conception of goodness is of something individual and isolated. I was myself educated as a Protestant, and one of the texts most impressed upon my youthful mind was, “Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil.” I am conscious that to this day this text influences me in my most serious actions. The Catholic has quite a different conception of virtue: to him there is in all virtue an element of submission, not only to the voice of God as revealed in conscience but also to the authority of the church as the repository of Revelation. This gives to the Catholic a conception of virtue far more social than that of the Protestant and makes the wrench much greater when he severs his connection with the church. The Protestant who leaves the particular Protestant sect in which he has been brought up is only doing what the founders of that sect did not so very long ago, and his mentality is adapted to the foundation of a new sect. The Catholic, on the other hand, feels himself lost without the support of the church. He can, of course, join some other institution, such as the freemasons, but he remains conscious, nonetheless, of desperate revolt. And he generally remains convinced, at any rate subconsciously, that the moral life is confined to members of the church, so that for the freethinker the highest kinds of virtue have become impossible.”

Russell takes some more shots at both groups, but particularly the Protestants. “The Protestant freethinker of the present day,” he observes, “is apt to take liberties in action as well as in thought, but that is only a symptom of the general decay of Protestantism. In the good old days a Protestant freethinker would have been capable of deciding in favor of free love, and nevertheless living all his days a life of strict celibacy.”

Ambrosius likes to remind us that the best Protestants become Catholics, while the worst Catholics become Protestants. Interesting that even an atheist can see this difference: Protestants can’t make up their minds what it means to live well, whereas Catholics know in their souls that they have the truth already, so that the most important question is whether or not they want to live it.

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Armel and Co.

2007-02-19T16:52:00.000-05:00

A photograph of our pilgrim, Armel, with his family, at his brother's ordination (FSSP).

A Call for Better Lovers

2007-02-17T23:42:00.000-05:00

I meant to post this on St. Valentine's Day, but this whole new blogger business was giving me problems. Ambrosius ended up putting up a very appropriate post for the Day of Love, but now that the kinks are worked out I thought I'd offer mine as well... I could save it for next year, but by then I'll be married myself and my husband might regard it as a personal criticism of him. This year I'm presumably safe.

I should warn you all at the outset that this does not come from an authoritative source. In fact, if anything, it comes from an anti-authoritative source; not only is the author an Anglican priest (or "priest" if you prefer), he is a hypocrite as well. In his book on marriage, from which I am about to quote, he says a number of nice things, including declaring divorce to be "a metaphysical impossibility"... but, after having six children with his wife and writing a book about it, he divorced her and remarried. Go figure. So take this or leave it as you like, but I found it thought-provoking nonetheless.

I suppose what I found thought-provoking was this: in an age in which love-making has come to be associate with that dirty word "sex," we hardly think it necessary or even fitting to think about being good lovers. In the eyes of the Church, good love-making is that which is done within wedlock, non-contraceptively, and that, we might think, is about all there is to say on the matter. I have two friends who did an Engaged Encounter weekend before their marriage, which included a session on love-making (though of course they insisted on calling it "sex.") The leaders of the session declared that there was really nothing special that needed to be said on that topic, but apparently the EE program required them to address it, so they turned the hour into a Q and A session. How typical, in an age in which sex is seen primarily as a recreational activity, that people would assume that this aspect of marriage would take care of itself, and that no special thought needed to be put into it.

If we can spill so much ink telling people about the wrong ways to go about making love, surely at least a few words can be said about the right way? Anyway I think so, and in that spirit I offer this little tidbit from the hypocritical heretic priest, Robert Farrar Capon, who, whatever his errors, is at the very least exploring a worthwhile line of thought.

""St. Paul may have been prejudiced toward women (what with not letting them speak in church), and we may be able to sit loose to his obiter dicta about them; but on the subject of wives and husbands he deserves more of a hearing than he currently gets. The husband, he says, is the head of the wife, just as Christ is the head of the Church. The marriage rite takes him at his word. It is the groom who speaks first, gives first and loves first. The bride is to obey, to receive and to respond....

The reason the headship of the husband is so violently object to is that it is misunderstood. First of all, St. Paul's anti-feminist prejudices notwithstanding, the Bible does not say that men and women are unequal. Neither does the Church. There are no second-class citizens in the New Jerusalem. It is husbands and wives that are unequal. It is precisely in marriage (a state, you will recall, not to be continued as such in heaven) that they enter into a relationship of superior to inferior -- of head to body. And the difference there is not one of worth, ability or intelligence, but of role. It is functional, not organic. It is based on the exigencies of the Dance, not on a judgment as to talent. In the ballet, in any intricate dance, once dancer leads, the other follows. Not because one is better (he may or may not be) but because that is his part. Our mistake, here as elsewhere, is to think that equality and diversity are unreconcilable. The common notion of equality is based on the image of the march. In a parade, really unequal beings are dressed alike, given guns of identical length, trained to hold them at the same angle, and ordered to keep step with a fixed beat. But it is not the parade that is true to life; it is the dance. There you have real equals assigned unequal roles in order that each may achieve his individual perfection in the whole. Nothing is less personal than a parade; nothing more so than a dance. It is the choice image of fulfillment through function, and it comes very close to the heart of the Trinity. Marriage is a hierarchical game played by co-equal persons. Keep that paradox and you move in the freedom of the Dance; alter it, and you grow weary with marching.

But that only says what the headship doesn't mean. What it does mean is equally misunderstood. The husband is head over his wife as the head is over the body. It isn't a description of what ought to be; it just says what is. He is the head. He will be a good one or a bad one, depending; but if he isn't the head, there isn't any other. He is to be the lover, she the beloved. If he doesn't initiate, she will wither of neglect. She cannot supply what only he can give. If the locomotive doesn't pull, the train doesn't move.

He, then, is to love and cherish her. And he is to do it first, because he promised it first. She must do it too, of course, but in her own way, as an answering voice, a counterpoint. Unfortunately it doesn't often work out that way. And our little bete noire, Sex, doesn't help much. One of the commonest ways it suceeds in frustrating honest sexuality is to train men to look on women as sources of stimulation, rather than as objects of love. They come to marriage after years of being conditioned to respond to certain more or less irrelevant fetishes -- the height of heels, the length of hair, the size of waistlines, the prominence of busts. When they become husbands, however, they find that what they have learned to consider Sexy is not too dependably supplied by marriage. Waistlines thicken as the years go by, and busts fall and fashions change. But husbands still wait to be aroused, and not infrequently they wait more than they do anything else. They grow impatient. They complain. If, in their disgruntlement, they resort to reading marriage books, they are liable to get the impression that the source of trouble is lack of technique; theirs, if they are diffident; their wives', if they are arrogant. But that isn't the trouble at all. It's that they are being passive where they should be active. Don't misunderstand. Perhaps most husbands do fairly well. The point is that what they are doing is responding, not leading, and their wives suffer for it. No human being can afford to settle for being only the occasion of somebody else's pleasure. No wife can long endure being treated as if her chief sexual function were to arouse her husband. That puts the shoe on exactly the wrong foot. She is, after all, a person; if her husband never grows from passion and response into action and love -- if he doesn't stop waiting to be aroused and realize that he's got to make something of a career of arousing -- she is not going to find being a wife much of a fulfillment.

As a priest, I listen dutifully to a lot of wifely discontent. Women have their faults, and I don't suppose there is a pastor on earth who doesn't at times wish he had the power to convert them all back into ribs -- nice, quiet, uncomplaining ribs. But all this female smoldering is evidence of a fire somewhere. I dare say that at least one of its causes is the failure of their husbands to treat them as wives -- to be indeed their heads, their lovers and their first movers. An appalling number of men are relational blanks in their marriages. Maybe now and then -- in bed -- a husband acquires some color, some substance, in his wife's eyes, but too often that's the only place. All or nothing. She receives no minor sexual attention. The adjunct daily affections -- the little passes executed only because he wills them, not because he is aroused -- these she does not see. The cajolery and fair speech, the gallantry and unconsummated buffoonery that is man -- these she never gets. She has no head. She has only one more tired member who has to be caught in a good mood and worked up.

Small wonder, then, that wives do such unwifely things. No marvel that there are so many active trousered women to make up for passive trousered men. As a matter of fact, we have become a trousered race, not the human race. There is only one sex left, and that is: Sex. And while both husbands and wives are responsible for the debacle, it is husbands who have done the most damage, and it is they who can, if they will, do the most good. If they train doesn't move, repair the locamotive. Don't let the cars sit around blaming themselves for not being engines. Above all, don't let them try to act as if they were. For the cars have their own function, thy are what the train is really about. They are what the engine is for. All the space in a husband is supposed to be given over to providing traction; it is the wife's capacity for freight that makes the trip worthwhile. The comparison is hardly flattering, but it does manage to be a bit gallant and, as a husband, I am rather pleased that I was able to get it off. One should try to practice what one preaches, with or without elegance."

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Stamford: Solemn Pontifical High Mass, Feb. 25

2007-02-16T16:45:00.000-05:00

Omnibus et praecipue Stanfordensem, Connecticut colentibus: Word has come to us there will be a Solemn Pontifical High Mass at St. Mary's Church, Stamford, on the First Sunday of Lent, February 25, 11:30AM, to be celebrated by Bishop Salvatore Cordileone, auxiliary of San Diego. Bishop Cordileone has been described to us as "one of the very soundest of our bishops". If there is a good turn out for this Mass, it may well send a message to the bishops in the area that the old rite is here to stay and worthy of their patronage. We were also told that the Mass should be "glorious". I hope that it is and we look forward to seeing the pictures!

Directions to the church:

To St Mary's:

95 south, exit 8, Elm Street. Left onto Elm Street, church on the left.

95 north, Atlantic Street exit, 8. Elm Street is third right after the stop light at the exit ramp.

I should also say for those interested that there is an indult Missa Cantata at St. Mary's, every Sunday at 11:30AM.

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God's Delight in Man

2007-02-15T13:29:00.000-05:00

One way in which human love manifests itself is delight in another person's particularity: the peculiar joy experienced when a friend or relative does something so typical of himself, so expressive of his personality and even foibles, that we are reminded to recall to conscious consideration why it is we liked or even came to love this person in the first place. We may then ask: is this sort of delight shared by God? Is this a reflection, a human manifestation, of God's delight in man?

At first, one is tempted to deny it. This sort of reminding is something that God does not need: He cannot forget, as we can, nor is His attention divided, as ours is. God is also conscious of our sinfulness and failure to live up to His will -- a 'good guy' in our eyes is, as we all are, still under Divine judgment. Yet it seems an error to ascribe this genuine human delight -- a delight that seems innocent and unselfishly appreciative -- purely to folly.

Instead, I expect that our delight in other people -- in the childlikeness of children, or the singular enthusiasms that characterize a friend -- is a momentary hint at the constant state of God's appreciation of His good creation. He cannot forget, but neither is He bored; with God the law of diminishing returns is reversed. The more a man manifests what is good about his created self, the more delightful He is to God. Our version of this enjoyment is imperfect and short-lived, much as our earthly music must climax and fade in a moment; whereas the heavenly music is eternally constant, like God's delight in what is good. So let us always thank God for those moments when we are given such a glimpse into how we ought to have always perceived the world, were we not weighed down by the wearying burden of sin: for God made this world and each human being good, however much we cooperate with Satan in spoiling it.
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Suspicion, Sin, and Marriage

2007-02-14T10:06:00.000-05:00

Listening yesterday to an interview with Dick Keyes on the latest CD of the Mars Hill Audio Journal (an excellent audio journal, albeit from a chiefly Protestant perspective) discussing contemporary cynicism and its poisonous effect on Christian life. Though the interview entire was quite good, Mr. Keyes made a fine side point that I thought worth sharing here.

Cynicism, in his estimation, is part and parcel of a contemporary unreal idealism that arises from a media culture celebrating convenience and selling perfection, coupled with a widespread loss of understanding of the effects of Original Sin. No better place, he went on, could this contrast between today and previous, more healthy, cultures be seen than in attitudes towards love and marriage. In traditional wedding vows, typically amidst joyous festivities and with hope and optimism, the focus is nonetheless on the worst case scenario. "Ah yes," the vows seem to say, "you love her now, young and beautiful and whole, but now you must take the extra step, and see in this young woman a diseased hag or nagging companion in abject poverty: and yet promise now to love that woman as much then as you do the pleasant one before you now." This is the wisdom of the Church, knowing that sinful man will not, on his own, endure hardship well: but God nonetheless can give the grace, through the sacrament of marriage -- or even through natural virtues and marriage -- for that same deadbeat to care for and love his decayed and aged wife, with the aid of such vows, founded as they are in proper suspicion. This is the antidote to cynicism, which is bred when foolish moderns say first, with Joni Mitchell, that they "don't need some piece of paper from the city" to keep them together; then, burnt after those weak and non-binding promises fail, fall cynically into denials of the possibility of fidelity or marriage.

This, the perceptive Chestertonian (such as my wife, who pointed it out to me) will recall, echoes a similar sentiment expressed by GKC, in his well-known Defence of Rash Vows, with which I shall conclude:

Let us turn, on the other hand, to the maker of vows. The man who made a vow, however wild, gave a healthy and natural expression to the greatness of a great moment. He vowed, for example, to chain two mountains together, perhaps a symbol of some great relief of love, or aspiration. Short as the moment of his resolve might be, it was, like all great moments, a moment of immortality, and the desire to say of it exegi monumentum aere perennius was the only sentiment that would satisfy his mind. The modern aesthetic man would, of course, easily see the emotional opportunity; he would vow to chain two mountains together. But, then, he would quite as cheerfully vow to chain the earth to the moon. And the withering consciousness that he did not mean what he said, that he was, in truth, saying nothing of any great import, would take from him exactly that sense of daring actuality which is the excitement of a vow.

The revolt against vows has been carried in our day even to the extent of a revolt against the typical vow of marriage. It is most amusing to listen to the opponents of marriage on this subject. They appear to imagine that the ideal of constancy was a yoke mysteriously imposed on mankind by the devil, instead of being, as it is, a yoke consistently imposed by all lovers on themselves. They have invented a phrase, a phrase that is a black and white contradiction in two words -- 'free-love' -- as if a lover ever had been, or ever could be, free. It is the nature of love to bind itself, and the institution of marriage merely paid the average man the compliment of taking him at his word. Modern sages offer to the lover, with an ill-favoured grin, the largest liberties and the fullest irresponsibility; but they do not respect him as the old Church respected him; they do not write his oath upon the heavens, as the record of his highest moment. They give him every liberty except the liberty to sell his liberty, which is the only one that he wants.

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PHILIA

2007-02-09T17:35:00.000-05:00

For those among our readers colentes latinitatem atque humaniores litteras, I wanted to pass along this announcement from the Reggie listserve about a program which will take place from 15 July to 22 July this coming summer in Naples, Italy.

I am happy to announce and invite you to the up-coming PHILIA (Fratria Iuvenum Latinitatem Investigantium Alentiumque) conference. This convention is expected to be the largest living Latin meeting in many years. PHILIA has secured beds for 200 participants, and over thirty professors and authors from around the world have already signed-up for pre-registration. Reggie has said he will be there for at least a day, but cannot stay because of the summer classes. Professors Terentius Tunberg, and Milena Minkova of the University of Kentucky will be among the participants. This conference will be unlike any of the other summer Latin conferences since there will not only be ample opportunities to speak and improve your Latin but there will also be papers, lectures, and debates organized (all in Latin) on many topics within the Humanities. We are extremely fortunate to have secured reduced prices in two dormitories and several beautiful meeting halls in the center of the city.

Patrick Owens, who announced this event to the list, also attached a schedule for the gathering - in English and in Latin - but I've included the English below as that is, I assume, what most of you will want to see:

AGENDA AND PROGRAM FOR THE CONFERENCE

15 July:

IN NATIONAL SCHOOL "VITTORIO EMANUELE" (Italiano: CONVITTO NAZIONALE VITTORIO EMANUELE): Participants arrive and are assigned their rooms. Check-in with the desk and conference secretary. Everything necessary for the conference is given to Participants. Dinner.

16 July:

- morning: IN THE ITALIAN INSTITUTE OF PHILOSOPHY (Italiano: ISTITUTO ITALIANO PER GLI STUDI FILOSOFICI): Humanity and the Civil Virtues.

SUBJECTS:
1) On governing the republic
2) On the formation of the youth
3) On the best state of the republic

The Piazza Plebiscito, Galilaeria of “Umberto I”, the theater of St. Charles will be visited.

- afternoon: IN NATIONAL SCHOOL "VITTORIO EMANUELE" Announce: Participants continue to discuss the subjects from the morning; group discussion and short talks are arranged.

17 July:

- morning: IN MONASTARY OF ST. LAWRENCE (Italiano: CONVENTO DI S. LORENZO MAGGIORE): On humanity, religion and the bonds across boundaries

SUBJECTS:
1) On the humanist mind towards Christianity and religion
2) On tolerance
3) On relations with other nations and peoples

The Historic part of Naples will be visited.

- afternoon: IN NATIONAL SCHOOL "VITTORIO EMANUELE: Participants continue to discuss the subjects from the morning; group discussion and short talks are arranged.

- evening: A Piano and Violin Concert

18 July:

- morning: IN BOTANICAL GARDENS (Italiano: ORTO BOTANICO): On Literature and Mankind's Natural Quest

SUBJECTS:
1) How are Humanism and the natural sciences joined?
2) On Literature and natural history

- afternoon: IN SPECULA ASTRONOMICA NEAPOLITANA (Italiano: OSSERVATORIO ASTRONOMICO DI CAPODIMONTE): de caelo astris distincto et ornato quod est supra nos ac de veri rectique lege quae in nobis est

SUBJECTS:
1) On cosmology and humanity
2) What does modern Physics offer mankind?

19 July:
- morning: APUD PARIETINAS POMPEIANAS
Monstratorem secuti lustrabunt participes antiquam urbem Pompeianam

- afternoon: IN AUDITORIUM OF FRIENDS IN POMPEII (Italiano: SALA DEL CIRCOLO “AMICI DI POMPEI”): Aquiring and Searching for The Good Life.

SUBJECTS:
1) On the republic of literature
2) What is The Good Life?

- evening: IN THE POMPEIAN THEATER:
Terentius' ADELPHOE (preformed by Academiae Pragensis and Synaulia and led by Valthero Maioli)

20 July:

- morning: IN THE NAPLES ARCHAEOLOGICAL MUSEUM (Italiano: MUSEO ARCHEOLOGICO NAZIONALE): The Philosophy of the Ancients

SUBJECTS:
1) Ancients and us, (on the thought of T. Zielinski)
2) How do Humanism and Classicism differ?
3) What can the literature of the past offer us today?

Visit to the Archaeological Museum.

- afternoon: IN ACADEMIA ARTIUM PINGENDI AC SCULPENDI (Italiano: ACCADEMIA DELLE BELLE ARTI): The Valour of The Arts

SUBJECTS:
1) On the City for Mankind
2) The Link Between Humanism and The Arts.

Possible trip to a local monument.

- evening: IN NATIONAL SCHOOL "VITTORIO EMANUELE": Participants continue to discuss the subjects from the morning; group discussion and short talks are arranged.

21 July:

- morning: IN ACADEMIA OF MUSICAL ARTS IN THE MONASTARY OF ST. MAJELLA (Italiano: CONSERVATORIO DI S. PIETRO A MAJELLA): Harmony in an Age of Discord

SUBJECTS: 1) Music and the Forming of the Mind

Martinus Nemecek's Piano Concert

Tour around the heart of Naples.

- afternoon: IN NATIONAL SCHOOL "VITTORIO EMANUELE":
Discourse on Humanity

SUBJECTS:
1) On Human Dignity
2) On Critical Judgement
3) The Battle Against Conformity: “nolite conformari huic saeculo”

CONCLUSIONS

Dinner.

22 July: Depature

Ambrosius, Clara and I would be all over that one on "cosmology and humanity" and "what does Physics offer mankind?", but it might take us a little while disserere latine de talibus ad universum pertinentibus propositis. (We dialoged for weeks on these topics, though sadly it was in English, last spring.)

If anyone is interested, here is the contact information:

Contact info:

Our Address:
Academia Vivarium Novum,
contrada S. Vito, 5, MONTELLA (AV). 84048
Tele and Fax: +39 0827 60 16 43
(Prefix from USA "011", please remember there is a significant time difference)
E-mail: info - a t - vivariumnovum.it
phratria.iuvenum - a t - yahoo.com

Should you prefer to write in English, please contact: patricius.oenus - a t - gmail.com

Internet sites:
www.vivariumnovum.it
http://philia.xf.cz/www

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Correspondence from Armel

2007-02-05T18:25:00.000-05:00

Though the usual scoffers scoffed, many of our readers were impressed by Armel's pilgrimage, currently underway, from France to the Holy Land. He still seems to be doing well. I hope that he has been bolstered, even in some small way, by our prayers. Our Turkish correspondent was the recipient of some correspondence from Armel which seems to give a good picture of his positive attitude as well as his trust in Providence:

Hello,

Thank you for making me welcome in your home last week. God bless you and your family. I prayed for you and I hope God will listen to me, even if I am a sinner.

Now I am still in Ankara because I have to wait one week for my visa to Syria (actually, until next Wednesday, if all is OK). I live on Ataturk Boulevard next to the Italian embassy, with Turkish workers under tents since 3 days ago and until my visa comes.

It is OK: I could attend the Mass yesterday in the church of the Vatican embassy and I can pray every day.

The Turkish workers are very friendly.

Anyway, once more I thank you for your help last week and I go on praying for you. See you later.

Armel

And another letter:

Dear friend,

Here is some news:

I reached Ulukisla at the south of Aksaray. Five days more and I will join Adana.

It is cold and not too many people. I must be careful not to stay alone in the desert late in the afternoon. But God helps me and the angels, too. I can have two showers and eat every day even if there are not too many restaurants and houses.

I keep a fond memory of your family. I go on praying for you.

Thank you for your prayers.

Best regards,

Armel

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Review: America Alone

2007-02-03T14:45:00.000-05:00

In Mark Steyn's very entertaining book, America Alone, the idea behind his central thesis is that demography is our best tool for understanding the course of future events. After demography, Steyn focuses on two other ideas: (1) the will, as in the will of a people to survive, and (2) the unsustainability of the socialized state. In Steyn's view, America stands alone because of its birth rate in combination with the potential to summon the will to avoid the onset of something like the next dark ages.

Steyn likes to say that while demography isn't everything, it's a good 90%. It's the demography of the developed world which threatens the next dark ages because the population of the developed world, unmolested by war, famine, or disease, is in decline. To put the point very simply, folks ain't havin' kids no more. This kind of decline is unprecedented in the history of the world; it is the ultimate manifestation of a culture of death, or more accurately, of a death cult. Everyone drinks the Kool-Aid and waits for the aliens - it's horrifying when we see this on the news, but this is something akin to the reality across the entire developed world. Instead of Kool-Aid and cyanide, we're being done in by abortion, contraception, selfishness, and a general lack of will to raise the next generation.

Japan has been going down this road for some time now. Moreover, because the Japanese population is largely unaffected by immigration (as we are in Europe and America), the demographic death spiral can be viewed in laboratory-like conditions. Russia is deathly ill with something like 60% of pregnancies ending in abortion and a birth rate of 1.28 children per woman. Both Russia and Europe, which has similarly low birth rates, though it varies from country to country, are threatened in another way by demographics: the Muslims are reproducing, and thus the post-Christian population grows older while the "youths" are more and more Muslim by percentage.

When Steyn draws attention to these facts in writing, he's commonly accused of racism. People say: "this is what the 'native' population in America said about the latest wave of immigrants from Greece, Italy, Ireland, Germany, that they have too many babies and that they're going to overrun the place." At a pub in Oxford the other night, I myself heard the very same thing from my enlightened liberal friends.

The difference the liberals are missing is that those immigrant populations which came to America were eager to assimilate, to learn the language, and to work hard in a land of opportunity. Even if we have a problem in America today because Spanish seems to have become an official second language, there is at least the positive fact that the Hispanic immigrants share the common cultural heritage of Christian civilization. Though the Freemasons brutally devastated and oppressed Mexico, the Catholic Church is alive and well there to this day. The immigrants who came to America became Americans; in Europe today, the multi-cultural state with its lack of religion, good or bad, its ideology of diversity and tolerance, good or bad, doesn't offer an identity strong enough to unify an ethnically and religiously diverse population. On the other hand, Islam offers a sense of belonging and an identity, and so a home for those who would otherwise feel adrift in post-modern Europe.

Do you remember hearing about all of those Irish immigrants who came to America hot for jihad? Don't you remember hearing the stories from your great-grandparents? If a religion makes folks feel at home - good for them, the liberal will say; but everyone, liberal or conservative, has to worry when the religion making the young men of Europe feel good about themselves is, at least in name, the force behind suicide attacks aimed at infidels from Manhattan and Bali to Madrid and Jerusalem. Liberals persist in thinking of Islam as just another religion, as a religion of peace and flaccid happiness. But at the end of the day, aren't we all more interested in what someone like Mohammed Atta understands Islam to be and believe than in what the columnists at the New York Times think?

What's the way out of this mess, especially in the case of Europe? This is where the question of will comes into the picture. If the response of the Spaniards after the Madrid bombings is any indication of the kind of will the Europeans can summon, Europe is done. Didn't the Spanish ever see a Bruce Willis movie? Any idiot American kid can tell you that you don't let yourself get shot by the bad guy and then, post-mortem as it were, also accede to all of his demands! At the very least, you give in to the bad guy's demands only to save your own skin; and the characters who do that generally don't get the hot chick at the end of movie. As Steyn writes in American Alone, not the day of the Madrid bombings, but the day the Spaniards voted in the Socialist, yellow-belly government is the day that will live in infamy.

But Europe has bigger problems than fighting in Iraq. First, they have to worry about their own unassimilated Muslim populations at home; second, Europeans who are capable of preserving European culture must begin to have children again. For anyone that's listening: that means 2.1 children per woman, i.e. not just 2 and a white picket fence! Amazingly, there are some people so ignorant as to think that the problem is a lack of libido: those undeveloped folk sure love to get it on, but the rich, developed guys, how indolent in bed and no romance! Contraception, abortion, and sterilization - the bare technologies or methods - aren't entirely to blame either; pace the case of China, which will grow old before it can grow powerful (so Steyn argues), these methods and technologies aren't impositions, but choices which people make. I choose to contracept or to have an abortion; these aren't things that happen to me.

In its commentary on the second graph on this page, the US Census Bureau claims that "Growth rates [in population] . . . started to decline due to rising age at marriage as well as increasing availability and use of effective contraceptive methods." Oh, was that it? This might sound nice in a report no one reads, but if someone stops to ask the evidence for that claim, it's bound to be wanting. If the explanation for the population being cut in half is a deadly disease which ravages 1 in 2 persons, it's a good explanation, even if it might not be altogether air-tight. But as far as the Census Bureau's explanation is concerned, I might just as well say that birth rates began to decline in the 1960s because my favorite beverage, Coke, was spreading rapidly around the world. Of course there may well be a correlation in the numbers with a rise in contraceptive technology, but this isn't the ultimate cause of the decline.

So then what has sapped the will of Japan, Russia, Europe and the blue states to reproduce and raise the next generation? Steyn lays part of the blame at the feet of the modern, socialized state, a system of government which holds the population in permanent childhood. The state will take care of everything, the state will provide healthcare, old folks care, young folks care, this, that, and the other. The one thing that the state can't provide is more warm bodies who can work and pay taxes in order to keep the cycle of enfeeblement rolling along. If half the population is over 65, retired, and living off a government pension, the tax burden on the remaining workers must grow. Listen to one of the brilliant minds they have working on this problem in Japan:

Japan already has the highest number of elderly people and the lowest number of young as a percentage of its population. The imbalance is threatening future economic growth and raising fears over whether the government will be able to fund pensions.

But Chief Cabinet Secretary Yasuhisa Shiozaki said: "It's impossible for the pension system to collapse due to the declining birth rate because we will adjust the amount of money put into it."

Did they teach him that kind of mathematical genius at Princeton? Or maybe he learned how to manage finances like that at Cambridge? If you have no money, just get more money. Okay.

Yet the modern socialist state can't be the whole of the explanation behind the lack of will to reproduce. In theory, at least, there's nothing hindering the couple determined to have 12 children from living well in a socialized state - as long in the redistribution of wealth, families with more children have enough money coming to them through the relevant government programs. Today, in fact, in places like Germany and Australia, the government is providing incentives for couples to have more children. Yet while this BBC article celebrates the "baby boom" in Australia, for which the government is taking credit, the 2006 estimate for fertility rate in Australia is still only 1.76 children per woman. Hey, that beats Russia and Japan! but Australia is hardly out of the woods.

Remember when considering the birth rate that though the government may care (for a time) only about warm bodies to man the factories and pay the taxes, there's a big difference between a healthy fertility rate across the population and a booming fertility in certain limited segments of the population. Steyn tells us that in Russia, too, there are districts of growth, despite an overall birth rate at death spiral levels; and what's the predominant religion in all of these growing districts? You guessed it - Islam.

As I was saying, I don't think that a socialist state is the whole of the problem in Europe. Faithful Catholics are going to have children, and lots of them, whether they live in America or Italy. But consider the estimated 2006 birth rates for Italy, Spain, and Austria, once three of the most Catholic countries in Europe: 1.36 in Austria, 1.28 in Italy, and 1.28 in Spain. Whether these countries are waiting for the aliens or not, get the morgue ready: less than 1.3 children per woman is considered "lowest low fertility", from which a population cannot recover. Remember, again, these numbers say nothing about which portions of the population in Spain, Austria and Italy are having children and which are not.

What happened in Spain and Italy? When people began paying heavy taxes and receiving "free" health care, did they also give up on the idea of having children? I don't find this explanation plausible, though it may be a contributing factor. I think that the moral and religious formation of a nation is a more likely explanation of the will or lack thereof to raise a family. Steyn frequently mentions the fact that Euorpe is "post-Christian". More accurately, though, all of Europe is "post-Catholic", a condition in which parts of Euorpe have been for different amounts of time. I'm inclined to believe that it was the success of an ideology which some will associate with the Freemasons and others will call "secularism" in places like Spain and Italy which contributes in large part to Europe's present demographic crisis. Why blame secularism? because it was this ideology which conquered all of Europe - not to mention Japan and Russia (in a more extreme form) - not always by force of arms, but always in a way which sought to sever the Church from the state and the formation of the young.

Through the reign of Pius XII, this separation of Church and state happened by a violence done to the then current arrangement of things, especially in France. But after the Second Vatican Council, it was the Church Herself, or rather, certain wicked members of her, tares among the wheat, even though ennobled with the office of the bishop, who precipitated the separation and hurried civil leaders down roads which have lead to today's demographic crisis.

Abortion was preceded by contraception which was preceded by divorce. There is one Church in the world which has always opposed all three, but this opposition, in the public square, at least, melted away before the dictates of modern European sensibilities. Romano Amerio writes at length in Iota Unum about the missed opportunities and deliberate withdrawls of the Church, especially in Italy, over matters such as religious education, divorce, and abortion. Benedict XVI and Cardinal Ruini are doing what they can to reinject the Church into the "public square" of Italy, but they cannot regain in a short time the ground that was lost over many decades. Yet Benedict also seems to have accepted the multi-cultural, religious state, even in Europe, even in Italy, as a fait accompli in which the atheist, the Catholic, and the Muslim all have a voice. But when - given the demographic numbers today - Muslims can begin to accomplish the overthrow of old Europe by recourse to democratic institutions, what voice will the Church have and for how long?

Besides, the damage may be irreversible, by which I mean that the dire consequences of a dwindling population living in a socilaized state may have taken place before the trends in reproduction can be reversed. And how, after all, does one reverse trends in demographics? As I quoted above, the Australian government claims to have done so by providing tax incentives and even cash handouts for each new born child. But the numbers belie this short-term success: the nation as a whole still has a sickly birth rate. Will cash from the government make your average Joe and Jane more generous in raising children? Will they marry earlier and contracept less because their tax advisor says it will be a good thing? This doesn't seem likely.

Or will people be convinced to have more children because Uncle Sam asks it? When discussing this question with Catharina Oxoniensis, she thinks that such a turnaround wouldn't be impossible in a place like Corea, because of the "collective culture" mentality there. Once upon a time, the government of Corea said "We all need to have fewer children!" and the nation listened. Today, the birth rate is below lowest low at 1.27 births per woman.

But in the Western world, which seems to pride itself on something the very opposite of the collective culture mentality, will couples have another child on the basis of a "take one for the team" mentality? Instead, like many other things in life, won't they say: "Why is it my problem? We've had one or two and that's good enough." Indeed, it's a problem of collective action, for any one family can truly say that the solution of the problem isn't up to them, even if they do have 16 kids.

In our lifetimes, we'll be able to see whether the demographic doom-mongers, like Steyn, were right to worry. I'm convinced that they are.

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Is Gambling Sinful?

2007-02-02T16:51:00.000-05:00

With the Superbowl coming up this weekend, I think it's time to pose this gripping moral question: is gambling sinful?

I ask this partly because I feel confident that someone out there will pull from the shelf one of those delightful old manuals of morality that the Church doesn't seem to publish anymore, and give us a concrete answer. I love those old manuals (even while considering them a tad bit less authoritative than, say, Scripture), so that's always a treat.

But the question is at least mildly interesting. Evangelicals (and the conservative Bible-thumping Protestant groups of a younger America, from which present-day Evangelicals draw their inspiration) tend to condemn gambling in a fairly unequivocal, across-the-board sort of way. I remember getting in debates back in grade school about whether card-playing was permissible in any form, and a childhood friend of mine used to play gambling-free poker with her siblings. (And when her parents said gambling-free, they meant it: the kids would deal the cards, and then see who got the best hand. Oh, it was table-thumping fun, I can tell you.)

Actually, Evangelicals like to ban a lot of things, and they are particularly fond of placing pre-emptive bans on things that might become addictive. Alcohol is the most obvious example -- as a former Mormon, I have lots of thoughts about that one, but perhaps I'll save those for another post. Tobacco is also a popular target, and various odd groups will ban other less addictive things as well (i.e. the Mormons and coffee.) Gambling seems largely to fit under the same heading, since it certainly can be addictive.

Everybody agrees that addictions are bad, but Catholics aren't normally such sticklers about avoiding anything that has even the potential for it. A critic could suppose that that's because we're lazy and self-indulgent. A more charitable interpretation might be that we just like to distinguish between genuinely sinful things and those that are merely inadvisable under certain circumstances. And it really does seem odd to ban wagers of any kind. What would make them wrong? The fact that they involve risk? But lots of normal things that we do involve elements of risk-taking. Being too risk-averse could under some circumstances be positively wrong, since it makes it harder for us to trust God and do his will. The risk-averse person may be more reluctant to give to the poor, more hesitant about having another child, or less willing to openly proclaim his faith under hostile circumstances. It isn't entirely bad to develop a take-what-comes attitude towards life.

Let's be honest, though. There's a pretty wide gulf between the pious sacrifices I mention and blowing money at the dog track. There is nothing holy or virtuous about becoming too obsessed with that thrill of excitement, waiting to see whether you'll win or lose. Even if we can't think of a reason why betting should be categorically wrong, there may be activities that are so reliably connected to sin that nobody except the systematic theologian need worry much about the distinction. I take this to be the case with pornography. Technically it is the lustful feelings, not the actual looking, that is sinful, but the case in which a person views porn for non-lustful reasons is so exceptional that it doesn't seem very necessary to get ordinary people worrying about the distinction. Certain overt forms of gambling might be similar. Is there any very good reason for frequenting the dog track? Isn't that sort of betting overwhelmingly likely to be slimy, unwholesome, and addictive? Is there any moral upside to playing dice, or cockfighting?

Another thing to consider: the Catholic "softness" on things that Protestants view as moral issues can be a cause of scandal. I think Catholics do often get a bad reputation for being unconcerned about "everyday" morality, and while we can't plan everything in our lives based on what other people think, it might sometimes make sense to avoid certain behaviors just for the sake of avoiding offence. This is largely why I remained a teetotaler even after apostizing from Mormonism, even though I don't think drinking is necessarily wrong. It just seemed better to save the battles for genuine truths or requirements of the faith. Drinking is not morally required, and neither is gambling.

I find these arguments somewhat compelling, but on the whole, I'm inclined towards the soft, easy, sloppy solution to the title question: it depends. Risking destitution for the sake of a casual pastime is unwise, and immoral too if one has a family to support or other financial obligations. Addictions of all kinds can have terrible spiritual consequences, so anyone with a proclivity to this addiction should be especially strict about avoiding it, in the same way that a recovering alcoholic must shun the casual drink that would be morally unproblematic for another person. And probably, as with alcohol, we should be realistic about the risks: anyone can get addicted if they don't take great care.

But some gamblng, in moderation, may be acceptable. I can't see much problem with the occasional friendly, low-stakes poker game. Betting on sports has always seemed superfluous to me; if you're a real fan, games are exciting enough without involving money. But I don't know that the occasional low-level bet is necessarily immoral. I've never been able to understand why playing slot machines would be fun, but I know there are people for whom the occasional casino trip is their idea of a great weekend. As long as it doesn't take over their lives, I guess I'm inclined to shrug and say, "to each his own."

That's my intial take, but I'll sit back now and wait for people to dig out their moral manuals.
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Polytheists and Atheists

2007-01-30T18:14:00.000-05:00

It rarely gets as good as this. Last night, on a flight from Detroit to Ithaca, I wound up sitting next to an academic who identified himself as a sworn enemy of the Faith, and who wanted to discuss it with me! It was as if Divine Providence had seen my “Wanted: Atheists” post from a month or so ago, and obliged by sending a juicy one right to me.

He opened the conversation when he saw me taking out my copy of St. Thomas’ Disputed Questions on the Virtues and beginning to read it. “Are you a philosopher?” I introduced myself. He was also in philosophy, a Harvard PhD, currently an adjunct at Georgetown and now on his way to interview for a job at Ithaca College. Before takeoff I had already revealed that I was a convert to Catholicism, and he had explained that he was a “militant atheist.” I think it was obvious that we were both up for a debate; we circled for a little, testing each other out with a little discussion of the Catholicity of Georgetown, but then he sent us into deeper water with a comment about a former teaching job he had had at a major public university in Arkansas.

He told the story of one of his early classes there, in which he had realized a short way into the semester that he was not connecting well with the students. He did a brief class survey. Out of forty students, one would admit to believing in the theory of evolution. They all (he claimed) thought that the Bible was inerrant. All believed that marriage was an institution solely intended to unite a man and a woman, which had been instituted by God. This was when he had realized that he was not in Boston anymore. Here he paused for a moment to let me respond.

“Impressive,” I said mildly.

He went on to explain that he had dumped his intended curriculum for the semester (I’m not sure what the course was supposed to be, actually, but I think it was something about world religions) and instead focused on reading the Bible with the students, looking always for opportunities to take shots at it and undermine their religious faith as systematically as possible. “Of course I couldn’t be too overt about it,” he admitted. “But there are plenty of ways to do that. I think just reading the Bible at all is enough to make most people begin to doubt their faith. The craziness sort of speaks for itself.”

I agreed that, as Tertullian observed, all heresies come from Scripture; this is obviously why the Church claims the right to interpret it for us. But I remarked that I always find it a terrible shame when people get all worked up over problems that they themselves have identified in the Bible, without even bothering to check what has been said about these issues by great Christian minds throughout the centuries. The poor souls that he taught in Arkansas were presumably Protestants, so no doubt they were robbed of this heritage, not only by philosophy instructors intending to destroy their faith, but even by pastors and parents trying to build it up. But I went on to brightly reassure my new friend that his mission to de-Christianize the Evangelicals was being continued in his absence. My fiancé teaches at a public university in the South, and he has found that many or most of the faculty there (who of course come from the same liberal, atheist graduate programs that produce the professors in Northeastern liberal arts colleges) see it as their mission to save the beleaguered and benighted South by leaching away their unfortunate Christian prejudices.

I explained these things conversationally, but the accusation of bullying was not all that heavily veiled. He moved in by asking me whether I knew what these great Christian thinkers had said about some key, “difficult” passages, and whether he could run some of his favorite objections by me. I told him to fire ahead.

I won’t describe everything we discussed, because we wandered around a fair amount, and some of his “objections” were really much too silly to be worth repeating. For example, he thought that the Sermon on the Mount was flat and tepid and lacked the “internal coherence” proper to a great spiritual text. What can one say to such absurdity except, “millions of holy souls have seemed to think otherwise. Offhand, would you suppose that the problem is with them, or with you?”

But we did get onto one line of discussion that I thought interesting enough to mention here: the psychology of the ancient Israelites. He brought this up by referencing the “genocidal” passages in Deuteronomy. I was explaining that Christianity does not condone murder or genocide, but that it can sometimes be permissible to kill for a just cause, and that the preservation of the Israelites evidently required that the land be cleansed of infidels who would, as God himself pointed out, erode their faith in the Lord. I pointed out too that it might have been essential to the development of the faith for them to do this job themselves, learning in the process that obedience to God’s will would ensure safety (he was not just A god, but rather THE ONLY true God), and that the faith was something that had to be defended, not just verbally but also sometimes physically.

We shouldn’t forget that there was an exclusive element to the faith at this time. Of course God was the Creator of all, but the Jews were the chosen ones. That’s a confusing concept for us to get our minds around these days, and my interlocutor brought this up and contemptuously dismissed it as “racist.” I, of course, would hasten to add that we really don’t know what the possibilities were for the salvation of the Jebusites or the Amorites or any of the others; what we do know is that they were killed and not converted. Why should God play such favorites? I can’t give a fully adequate response, but it presumably has to do with the absolute singularity of Christ. The Chosen People were chosen, and were prepared from the time of Abraham, precisely because they were the people from whom the Messiah was to come. Once that light had broken onto the world, the doors were opened wide to all who would repent and believe, but before that time, the faith was like a nursery with tender shoots that might get eaten by animals, or like a small flicker of flame that could easily get blown out by the wind. It had to be protected at all costs, and nourished and nurtured in the appropriate ways.

That seems reasonable enough it itself, but the particular measures used by God to do this can sometimes seem strange to us. Why was it necessary for them to wander around forty years in the desert? To mercilessly kill women and children and all manner of people whom we’re inclined to classify as innocents? There’s no pat answer to all of this, but I think we can make a start. It’s easy to say, but hard for us to internalize, this basic fact: for the ancient Israelites, temptations against the faith came not in the form of atheism or materialism, but in the form of polytheism. The medicines needed to combat their spiritual sicknesses were thus rather different, and least in some respects, from the ones needed in our time and our country. The Israelites needed to learn (and it was very difficult for them to understand it) that their God was not just their God, but the Lord and Creator of all.

My philosopher friend pointed out to me that the psychology of the ancient Israelites was laughably unrealistic. God takes them away from the Egyptians, parts the Red Sea to let them through, brings them victory in battle, rains manna on them from Heaven, cures their sick with the lifted serpent, and all manner of other miracles. You’d think they’d be pretty darn committed after all that. But the second they run into some sort of hardship, they’re off building a golden calf or adopting the gods of the local peoples. How plausible is that?

On face it does look pretty ridiculous, but remember again the principle: the main temptation for them was polytheism. My atheist friend is sure to misunderstand the psychology of people who are in some respects quite his opposite. He would probably be quite impressed to see food appearing on the ground in the morning when he was hungry – maybe sufficiently impressed even to become a Christian. But he’s spent his whole life denying that there are supernatural forces, so the event would be much more momentous for him. The Israelites had exactly the opposite problem. They were never in much doubt that there were some kinds of supernatural powers; quite the contrary, they took them for granted. Having seen ample evidence that it’s good to have a God in your corner, is it really so strange that, in times of hardship, they would want to go on the market for a better God?

It’s an unfortunate thing that we Westerners are often inclined to shy away from the Old Testament; it seems to us rather strange and forbidding. That’s a terrible shame because, as this conversation with an atheist reminded me, the lessons taught by these Old Testament stories are very poignant. Once we let ourselves get inside the polytheistic mindset that seemed so natural to them, we find that the spiritual struggles of the Israelites are more familiar than we might have expected. Most of us have never been tempted to employ golden calf to sort out our problems… but how many are tempted to find a better church or a more lenient confessor? Or, more subtly, how often do we try to distract ourselves from guilty feelings by filling our lives up with other things (ambitions, social activities, television, or whatever)? There are certainly parallels to our own failings.

Another example of this kind of application might be seen in the story of the serpent that Moses lifted up to cure the suffering Israelites of their disease. They only needed to look at it and they would be cured; nevertheless, many refused to look, and died instead.

At first glance, it seems utterly crazy. If you’re already dying, why not try whatever solution presents itself? What have you got to lose? But this thought betrays a misunderstanding of the struggle that they were enduring. We might be inclined to be skeptical that a disease could ever be cured by something so simple as looking at a staff. We’re inclined to project that same skepticism on the reluctant Israelites, but this probably isn’t accurate. The Israelites probably had no difficulty believing in the possibility of miraculous cures. But they were being punished. On one level they no doubt knew that they were themselves responsible for their suffering. To accept mercy from the one who has inflicted pain on you, particularly when the pain was administered as a rebuke, is deeply humiliating. The Israelites who refused to look at the serpent are not very different from people who refuse to go to Confession, even on their deathbed, because they harbor bitter feelings against the Church. Perhaps they believe that God will not forgive them, or perhaps they just aren’t sure they want to be forgiven, with the humiliation that such forgiveness always entails. In any case, this is a spiritual condition that we can readily recognize. And of course, it’s no accident that, as the Gospels tell us, this incident with Moses and the Israelites prefigured the much greater saving power of Christ, lifted up for us on the cross at Calvary.

I love the New Testament, but so many of the figures that we find there are heroes, worthy of imitation but sometimes unlikely figures for identification. The beauty of the Old Testament is that it gives us lots of non-heroes. We see the struggles of more ordinary people, which can at times be inspiring, and at times gut-wrenchingly tragic. I’m quite grateful to my new acquaintance from the plane last night for giving me a chance to pontificate a bit on a topic that I find so interesting. I hope he was at least a bit nonplussed at meeting a fellow philosopher who could gladly discuss his “tough questions” without losing composure or suffering a crisis of faith. It may have been good for him, for a change, to pick on someone his own size instead of bullying Evangelical undergraduates.

And here’s the funniest or perhaps saddest part: he was interviewing for a job in the philosophy of religion!

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Feast of St. Francis de Sales

2007-01-29T00:01:00.000-05:00

Sports, banquets, parties, fine clothes, and stage comedies are all things that, considered in themselves, are by no means evil. They are indifferent acts and therefore they can be neither good or bad. At the same time such things are always dangerous and to have an affection for them is still more dangerous. Hence, Philothea, I hold that although it is licit to engage in sports, dance, wear fine clothes, attend harmless comedies, and enjoy banquets, to have a strong liking for such things is not only opposed to devotion but also extremely harmful and dangerous. It is not evil to do such things, but it is evil to be attached to them. It is a pity to sow such vain and foolish affections in our heart's soil. They usurp the place of worthwhile interests and hinder the sap of our soul from being used for good inclinations.

-- St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life

Nihil vero tam damnosum bonis moribus quam in aliquo spectaculo desidere; tunc enim per voluptatem facilius vitia subrepunt.

-- Seneca, Epistulae Morales, 7

Franciscus and I were watching Michigan State vs. Ohio State last night. While I was immersed in the flow of the game, he was so kind as to humor my avid affection for Michigan State basketball. What for him was an idle delight - if that! (though there was beer involved) - was for me something that brings to mind the above piece of advice in St. Francis de Sales' Introduction to the Devout Life.

Many of us can sympathize with these feelings: the exhilaration of delight when our team wins a close one and the gut-wrenching frustration when the boys go down by a few points.

Are these misplaced affections? I'm inclined to think so, to think that we are wasting energy (more spiritual than physical, perhaps) or time on what is truly one of the passing trifles of this world.

I don't mention, of course, the near occasions of sin which pursuing such affections - otherwise (perhaps) matters of indifference morally speaking - might put us in. Ambrosius and Iacobus know how I almost fell in with a dancing girl on account of spending too much time at Joe's Sports Bar last year. There are the dangers of overconsumption, not limited to bars nor to a passion for sports. To a large extent, I suppose, these dangers can be obviated by watching from the safety of home, alcohol free, feeding only off of one's passion for the sport and the love for one's team.

Even in such a sterile environment, though, I think that I can see the danger of which St. Francis de Sales speaks. Whether Tarcisio Cardinal Bertone can be taken as any guide in the matter, I know not. It's not something that I plan on giving up anytime soon, but it is a matter I wonder about from time to time.

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A Litany to Light and Life

2007-01-26T18:53:00.000-05:00

This note is intended for the exclusive delectation of those of us here at Cornell (or once here), who know of Sage Chapel and its non-sectarian Sunday morning services. Of course, it may bring a smile to the faces of others as well. The name "non-sectarian" is deceiving: trust me, this group is one very special bunch of loonies with their own ideology. I can't imagine that Sage Chapel has a regular Sunday morning "congregation"; rather, I suppose that the size of the gathered "faithful" varies with the hipness of the person leading the "meditation", i.e. sermon. On that note, I should also point out that this Sunday - in case any of you were interested - is the "special annual jazz service"; the "Postlude", so-called, is "Take the A Train" by Duke Ellington. I think that they would be better off with some of Mozart's compositions for the Masons, which I am enjoying listening to as I type this post. It's kinda jazzy in its way.

But this is what I wanted to share - I stole into the Masons' offices to get you a sneak peak of this Sunday's "liturgy". It begins with a "Call to Worship: A Litany to Light and Life" (because this Sunday's theme is "Light and Life in Winter"). I don't believe that you'll find this litany among the approved, though my researches haven't been exhaustive.

LEADER: In the beginning God said,
ALL: "Let there be light."

LEADER: At the end, the enlightened one, Buddha said,
ALL: "Make of yourself a Light."

LEADER: Jesus of Nazerth [sic], The Christ once said,
ALL: "You are the Light of the World."

LEADER: And we, here and now, do Pray,
ALL: May we be light to life in Winter.

LEADER: Let us worship the Creator of all.

Good stuff, huh? Maybe I should have put sic's by all the words - it's all kinda rich. The music after the Anthem and before the Readings is "Embraceable You" by George and Ira Gershwin. Cool.

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Duties of the Catholic State in Regard to Religion

2007-01-24T19:54:00.000-05:00

I recently read a little pamphlet, last published in 1993 by Angelus Press, entitled the Duties of the Catholic State in Regard to Religion, a lecture by Alfredo Cardinal Ottaviani. The translation from Italian was done by the Rev. Fr. Denis Fahey, C.S.Sp. and first printed in 1953. Fr. Fahey explains the occasion of the lecture in the Translator's Foreword:

On March 2, 1953, the Pontifical Lateran University in Rome celebrated the fourteenth anniversary of Pope Pius XII's election to the Supreme Pontificate. . . . After the address of homage in Latin to His Holiness, Pope Pius XII, read by the Right Reverend Rector of the University, and the address of welcome in Italian to the distinguished gathering, delivered by the same, the Schola Cantorum of the Roman Seminary sang the Ave Maria of Da Vittoria. His Eminence, Cardinal Ottaviani, then gave his eagerly awaited lecture on "Church and State: Some Present-day Problems in the light of Pope Pius XII's Teaching." It is this Lecture, published later in pamplet form by the Pontifical Lateran University, which, by the kind permission of His Eminence, I now have the honor of presenting to readers of English. I am certain that in doing so I am rendering a great service to those who would otherwise be deprived of its luminous exposition of Catholic doctrine. . . .

Luminous exposition, indeed! and not, of course, the type of thing one is liable to read hot off the press of the Pontifical Lateran University today. From the opening paragraphs:

Today some maintain that there is in the Church only a spiritual order, and from that they draw the conclusion that the nature of the Church's law is in contradiction with the nature of the Church herself. According to these people, the original sacramental element has grown continually weaker, giving way to the jurisdictional element, which is now the power of the Church.

According to these same people, the solution is to prune the Church of these malign accresences, namely the trappings of a State, until the Church once again is a society of mere charity as opposed to one both of charity and juridical constitution.

These people are the ones at whom Cardinal Ottaviani aims his speech - not those outside the Church - but members of the Church who think that the Church must adapt herself to the conditions of the time; for instance, one might say that in the new Europe, it is no longer expedient that Catholic confessional states exist. More strongly, even the principle that the Church ought not to be divorced and sundered from the State should be abandoned - so one might say. Cardinal Ottaviani:

To justify themselves, these people affirm that, in the body of teaching given in the Church, a distinction must be made between what is permanent and what is transitory, this latter being due to the influence of particular passing conditions. Unfortunately, however, they include in this second zone the principles laid down in the Pontifical documents, principles on which the teaching of the Church has remained constant, as they form part of the patrimony of Catholic doctrine. . . .

Because they are afraid of being accused of wanting to return to the Middle Ages, some of our writers no longer dare to maintain the doctrinal positions that are constantly affirmed in the encyclicals as belonging to the life and legislation of the Church in all ages. For them is meant the warning of Pope Leo XIII who, recommending concord and unity in the combat against error, adds that "care must be taken never to connive, in any way, at false opinions, never to withstand them less strenuously than truth allows."

What false opinions are we conniving at today? Cardinal Ottaviani gives some examples: (1) The State, properly speaking, cannot accomplish an act of religion; (2) The State's obligation to worship God can never enter the Constitutional sphere; (3) Even for a State composed of Catholics, there is no obligation to profess the Catholic religion. In contrast to these errors, Cardinal Ottaviani notes three principles which Catholics must uphold: (1) The social, and not merely private, profession of the religion of the people; (2) Legislation inspired by the full concept of membership in Christ; (3)The defence of the religious patrimony of the people against every assault aimed at depriving them of the treasure of their faith and religious peace.

Cardinal Ottaviani, in the presence of the reigning pontiff, quotes from Leo XIII's Immortale Dei to drive home the message of the first principle:

Accordingly, as it is not lawful for any individual to neglect his duties to God and to the Religion according to which God wills to be honored, in the same way "states cannot without serious moral offense conduct themselves as if God were non-existent or cast off the care of religion as something foreign to themselves or of little moment."

In previous writing on this blog about the Social Reign of Christ the King and about the duties of the State with respect to the Church, I have not infrequently wondered to what extent we can take the encyclicals of earlier pontiffs as guides for our present belief in these matters. Thus, I enjoyed Cardinal Ottaviani's lecture especially because it fingers these questions as ones on which there is a permanent and abiding teaching of the Church:

These principles are firm and unchanging. They were valid in the days of Innocent III and Boniface VIII. They are valid in the days of Leo XIII and Pius XII, who has reaffirmed them in more than one of his documents. That is why, with unyielding firmness, he has also recalled Rulers to their duties, by appealing to the warning of the Holy Ghost, a warning whcih applies to all times. In the Encyclical Letter, Mystici Corporis, the Sovereign Pontiff, Pius XII, speaks as follows: "We must implore God that all those who rule over people may love wisdom, so that upon them may never fall that fearful judgment of the Holy Spirit. . . .

Referring back, then, to what I have said above concerning the agreement of the Encyclicals that have been called in question, I am certain that no one can prove that there has been any change whatever, in regard to these principles, between the Encyclical Letter, Summi Pontificatus of Pius XII, and the encyclicals of Pius XI, Divini Redemptoris against Communism, Mit brennender Sorge against Nazism, and Non abbiamo bisogno against the State-monopoly of Fascism, on the one hand; and the earlier encyclicals of Leo XIII, Immortale Dei, Libertas and Sapientiae Christianae, on the other.

A very important point to have established, I think, and one with which we can assess the current post-Vatican II teaching of prelates and Popes in respect to confessional States and States in general. In the lecture, much of Cardinal Ottaviani's attention is directed at States which were still more or less Catholic - Spain, for instance. He wants to make sure that, whatever external pressures there may be, Catholics themselves in the relevant countries won't undermine or seek to remove the State's profession of the Catholic Faith.

But what is the situation of Catholics in America or in Mohammedan lands - anywhere, at any rate, where Catholics are not in the majority? Can Catholics expect any respect when, on the one hand, because the Catholic Faith is the true Faith, they demand that the State confess it (where this is practically feasible) and on the other, in lands where it is not feasible, Catholics demand toleration for themselves, toleration which they would not accord to others if the State were Catholic rather than Anglican, Muslim, Masonic, or what have you.

The objection is put to us: You maintain two different standards or norms of action according as it suits you. In a Catholic country, you uphold the doctrine of the Confessional State with the duty of exclusive protection for the Catholic religion. On the other hand, where you form a minority, you claim the right of toleration or straightway the equality of forms of worship. Hence for you there are two weights and two measures. The result is a really embarrassing duplicity from which the Catholics who take account of the actual developments of civilization wish to be delivered.

Well, quite frankly, two weights and two measures are to be employed, one for truth, the other for error. Men who feel themselves in secure possession of truth and justice are not going to compromise. They demand full respect for their rights. How can those, however, who do not feel themselves secure in the possession of the truth, claim to hold the field alone, without sharing it with the man who claims respect for his own rights on the basis of other principles?

The concept of the equality of forms of worship and of tolerance has resulted from the doctrine of private judgment and from confessional multiplicity. It is a logical consequence of those opinions according to which, in the field of religion, there is no place for dogmas and that the individual conscience is the sole criterion and exclusive norm for the profession of faith and the exercise of worship. Accordingly, in the countries in which such theories flourish is it any wonder that the Catholic Church seeks to be in a position to develop her divine mission and to obtain recognition for those rights which she can claim, as a logical consequence of the principles accepted by the Legislatures of these countries?

The Church would prefer to speak and to put forward her claims in the name of God. But amongst these peoples the exclusive nature of her mission is not recognized. She is content, therefore, to plead her case in the name of that tolerance, of that equality, and of those common guarantees which inspire the laws and the lawgiving of these countries.

Then, to illustrate his point about the disunity of protestants and other sectarians, he relates the following story. I love this story!

When, in 1949, there was held at Amsterdam a reunion of various heterodox bodies in view of furthering the ecumenical movement, there were represented in that assembly no fewer than 146 different Churches or Confessions. The delegates present belonged to about 50 nations. There were Calvinists, Lutherans, Copts, Old Catholics, Baptists, Waldenses, Methodists, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Malabar Christians, Seventh-Day Adventists, etc.

The Catholic Church, knowing herself to be in firm possession of the truth and unity of Christ's Mystical Body, could not, logically, take part in such an assembly with a view to seeking there that union which the others have not got.

Oh, really? That's news to me, post-Vatican II Catholic that I am.

After lengthy discussions, the members of the assembly were not even in agreement for a final celebration in common of the Eucharistic Banquet, which was to be the symbol of their union, if not in faith, at least in charity. Such was the lack of unity that, in the plenary session of August 23, 1949, Dr. Kraemer, a Dutch Calvinist, who has since become the Director of the new ecumenical Institute of Celigny in Switzerland, remarked that it would have been preferable to omit the Eucharistic Banquet altogether rather than manifest so great a lack of unity by holding many separate celebrations.

In such conditions, I say, could one of these Confessions coexisting with the others, or even predominant, in one and the same State, adopt an intransigent attitude and claim for itself what the Catholic Church expects from a State in great majority Catholic?

He concludes that section: "It ought not, therefore, be a matter for wonder that the Church appeals to and demands recognition for the rights of man at least, when the rights of God are not acknowledged."

But since the day of Cardinal Ottaviani, there is a new presence in Europe, one which has been around for a long time, but which only of late again threatens Europe. The Muslims, too, are quite confident that they possess the fullness of the truth; they believe that they have the last word on the revelation of God. When we know, for example, that a large percentage of British Muslims would like to live under sharia in Britain, it can't be long before some of them are politically well-organized enough to start things down that road.

As a question of politics, the return of the Catholic confessional state really isn't on the radar; but the principle of a confessional state, and of a confessional state in Europe, is certainly one which bears some thinking about.

For instance, maybe we can read Benedict's support of secular democracy "guided by values" in light of the Mohammedan threat to Europe. Leave aside the principle of the thing for a moment, maybe Benedict is defending secular democracy not so much in opposition to previous centuries of papal teaching as in a way to ward off what may well be the future of Europe: a Eurabia, in which parts of the continent live under Islamic law. Thus, rather than being the view of a liberal, Benedict's support of secularism could be seen as prescient, an attempt to take up the standard in defense of a Church which must soon live in States not likely to recongize its right to exist let alone its divine mission.

Of course, this reading of Benedict's ideas doesn't cover those countries in which a majority of the citizens are still very much Catholic. To be consistent with the teaching Cardinal Ottaviani outlined in his lecture before Pius XII, it seems that the Church today should be pushing for the establishment of Confessional States in at least all of those countries where the religious demographics make it at all feasible. Instead, the the policy seems to be one of encouraging tolerance for all religions. My knowledge of these matters, however, especially as regards the Latin American countries and South America is extremely limited, so I would be very interested to hear more particulars about the situation between the Church and State in these countries.

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Abortion in America

2007-01-24T02:05:00.000-05:00

In light of the recent anniversary, I thought our readers might be interested in this article from Human Life Review. George McKenna tracks the attitudes taken towards abortion by the major American political parties, and asks the perplexing question: how did the Democrats become America’s pro-abortion party? As McKenna points out, it’s not what one might have expected in the 1960’s, when the Democrats counted the great majority of Catholics among their voters, and trumpeted the defense of the weak as their primary agenda. Republicans, the historically anti-Catholic and pro-middle class party, flirted with abortion at a time when a young Ted Kennedy was declaring it morally repugnant. And yet, just a few years later, the Democrats were adding a plank to their platform declaring a “universal right” for women to procure an abortion, while Republicans were recasting themselves as the defenders of life. What happened?

I won’t summarize the whole article for you, and really (as necessarily happens when an author paints in such broad strokes) that question isn’t answered in fully satisfactory detail. The real focal point of the piece is the American bishops, and their response when the Democratic party – the party that they liked to identify as their own – turned into the party of death. While the bishops put up appreciable resistance in the 1970’s when the abortion issue was still in flux among the Democrats, the sad truth is that they more or less broke down when their objections were overruled. Obviously, they never formally agreed that abortion was okay. But they downplayed the issue by talking about the “seamless garment of life” and preaching the party’s other virtues. As we see, the damage was heavy and is not easily reversed. Probably all of us know Catholics who disagree with the Church’s position on abortion, and somehow think that it’s no big deal.

Interestingly, as Iosephus pointed out, McKenna doesn’t make clear what he thinks about the wider agenda of the left to which liberal Catholics were so attached. The Democratic Party is sometimes held up as an embodiment of the ideas and values laid out in Rerum Novarum, and as a mirror of Catholic social teaching. I’ll admit that I haven’t read that encyclical and hence don’t have any very deep thoughts about it. I have a knee-jerk reaction against references to Catholic social teaching because most of the people I’ve known to get excited about it have been wildly heretical in other ways. But I don’t have any hard and fast views about, say, wealth redistribution – none so strong, at least, that I’d be willing to disregard other explicit moral teachings in order to maintain my support for them.

And that’s really the tough question that I find myself asking at the end of an article like this. How much involvement in politics is healthy or appropriate for the Church? We see John Paul II standing up against communism and we’re all ready to cheer, but here is a case where political activism has seriously compromised the integrity of Church authorities in America. How can we stay relevant without risking more fiascos like this one?

Sometimes Church authorites need to be cautious about recognizing when a political issue involves prudential questions that they are not well-equipped to address. But also, I think we need to ponder carefully the ends that are being achieved with any given political initiative, because our priorities should not necessarily mirror the rest of the world's. I do have some views about war and welfare and labor laws, but in the end, these sorts of political issues are largely concerned to make earthly life safer, healthier and pleasanter. It’s not wrong to take some care for such things, but we must remember that, ultimately, these earthly joys and sorrows are just the backdrop against which a more important battle is fought, for the souls of men. It’s very hard to know how particular political circumstances will affect that drama. There’s no particular reason to think that the man who dies fat and happy at the age of ninety-three is more likely to achieve salvation than the soldier who falls on the battlefield, or the child who dies of typhoid, or the peasant who works himself to death by the age of fifty-one. If anything, we might give the edge to the soldier, the child or the peasant.

Understand, I’m not saying that we should be indifferent to the suffering of others; quite the contrary, concrete acts of love and compassion are absolutely essential to the Christian life. But there is a reason for the injunction that we should “do no evil that good may come of it.” Only God knows whether good will come from any merely earthly event, and no amount of merely earthly good can outweigh the evil of sin. If concerns about poverty and war begin to incline us to turn a blind eye to the deliberate murder of millions of unborn children within our own borders, it’s clear that we need to rethink some things.

Anyway, give the article a read; it's pretty interesting.
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A Catholic Pilgrim in Turkey

2007-01-22T00:01:00.000-05:00

Our fearless traddie reporter, sojourning in Mohammedan lands, relates the story of an even more fearless Catholic come from France to Turkey, and thence to the Holy Land.

After Mass this Sunday, at the Jesuit chapel located in the old French chancellery in Ankara, I was eager to talk with a young man whom I easily identified as a traditional Catholic - they tend to stand out at most Masses these days, even here in Turkey.

His name is Armel. He is 28 and has 10 brothers and sisters, including one who is a priest in the FSSP and another brother who is considering the priesthood. Early last year in June 2006, Armel resigned his commission as a captain in the French infantry. One month later, in July, he began a pilgrimage on foot from France to Jerusalem. He had spent Christmas in Istanbul and had recently arrived in Ankara. Armel stayed in our home Monday - and departed Ankara Tuesday morning after morning Mass, continuing his journey across the cold winter mountains of eastern Turkey, and then, God willing, into Syria, Lebanon, and finally Palestine.

He travels anywhere from 20 to 30 km per day and relies totally on the providence of God and the charity of strangers for his sustenance. He sleeps wherever the local people will allow him - in gas stations, apartment building basements, or, if need be, abandoned shacks in the middle of nowhere. (The nights in Turkey currently can drop to below -10 C.)

Likewise with food, he relies totally on charity. He asks gas station operators or small local restaurants for bread and water -- almost always the hosts provide him with a complete meal. He passes out Miraculous Medals in payment for the kindness of the local people.

His praying and meditation are obviously intense - but aside from the spiritual contemplation occurring during his long periods of walking in total isolation, he spends 3 to 4 hours a day in prayer during the periods in the morning, midday, and evening when he is not walking.

The most dangerous aspect of his trip is the wild dogs. The back-country of Turkey and the Balkan countries, too, are full of wild dogs. Armel carries a big walking stick with many pointy parts on the end - a stick he cut and honed from his own property in France prior to departing - and a stick made of considerably tough wood since a mere 3 cm has worn off the bottom end after more than six months of walking.

The most afraid he has been is in Turkey, unfortunately. A man in a small village had invited Armel into his home for some food. Surrounded by the host and other Turkish men, a discussion began about religion, and after a while, the Turkish man asked Armel to repeat some words, one after another. After the second or third word, Armel asked what the complete phrase was supposed to be. The man told him the phrase - it was the Muslim profession of faith. At this point Armel told the man that he would not say anymore of this phrase. The man became very angry. The mood in the room became cold and hostile. Armel quickly thanked his host and departed - wondering if he would make it out of the house and village alive.

During the few nights that he was unable to find a heated place to stay during the winter months in Turkey and was forced to sleep in old, abandoned homes or shacks located 1 km or so off the road, he thought of the prospect of freezing to death and that his body might never be found.

Our family felt blessed to have him in our home. Despite what one would imagine to be an exhausted constitution, he played for many hours with our children - and even went for a walk for several hours during the day on Monday! We pray that he arrives safely in Jerusalem.

An amazing story - not unprecedented, of course - but surely a rarity these days! I wonder whether Armel's pilgrimage has received any attention in the French press, or at least in the papers of his home town? God speed, Armel!

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Jan. 21: St. AGNES, Virgin & Martyr

2007-01-21T17:48:00.000-05:00

St Agnes' Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,
Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;
Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,
And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,
Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:
The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze,
Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails:
Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries,
He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails
To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.

Northward he turneth through a little door,
And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue
Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor;
But no---already had his deathbell rung
The joys of all his life were said and sung:
His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve:
Another way he went, and soon among
Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve,
And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve.

That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;
And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide,
From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,
The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide:
The level chambers, ready with their pride,
Were glowing to receive a thousand guests:
The carved angels, ever eager-eyed,
Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests,
With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.

At length burst in the argent revelry,
With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
Numerous as shadows haunting fairily
The brain, new-stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay
Of old romance. These let us wish away,
And turn, sole-thoughted, to one lady there,
Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
On love, and wing'd St Agnes' saintly care,
As she had heard old dames full rnany times declare.

They told her how, upon St Agnes' Eve,
Young virgins might have visions of delight,
And soft adorings from their loves receive
Upon the honey'd middle of the night,
If ceremonies due they did aright;
As, supperless to bed they must retire,
And couch supine their beauties, lily white;
Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require
Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.

Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline:
The music, yearning like a God in pain,
She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine,
Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train
Pass by---she heeded not at all: in vain
Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier,
And back retir'd; not cool'd by high disdain,
But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere;
She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year.

She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes,
Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short:
The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs
Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort
Of whisperers in anger, or in sport;
'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn,
Hoodwink'd with faery fancy; all amort,
Save to St Agnes and her lambs unshorn,
And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn.

So, purposing each moment to retire,
She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors,
Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire
For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,
Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores
All saints to give him sight of Madeline,
But for one moment in the tedious hours,
That he might gaze and worship all unseen;
Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss---in sooth such things have been.

He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell:
All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords
Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel:
For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes,
Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords,
Whose very dogs would execrations howl
Against his lineage: not one breast affords
Him any mercy, in that mansion foul,
Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.

Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came,
Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand,
To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame,
Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond
The sound of merriment and chorus bland.
He startled her; but soon she knew his face,
And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand,
Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! hie thee from this place;
"They are all here to-night, the whole blood-thirsty race!

"Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand;
He had a fever late, and in the fit
He cursed thee and thine, both house and land:
Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit
More tame for his gray hairs---Alas me! flit!
Flit like a ghost away."---"Ah, gossip dear,
We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit,
And tell me how"---"Good saints! not here, not here;
Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier."

He follow'd through a lowly arched way,
Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume,
And as she mutter'd "Well-a---well-a-day!"
He found him in a little moonlight room,
Pale, lattic'd, chill, and silent as a tomb.
"Now tell me where is Madeline", said he,
"O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom
Which none but secret sisterhood may see,
"When they St Agnes' wool are weaving piously."

"St Agnes! Ah! it is St Agnes' Eve---
Yet men will murder upon holy days:
Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve,
And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays
To venture so: it fills me with amaze
To see thee, Porphyro!---St Agnes' Eve!
God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays
This very night: good angels her deceive!
But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve."

Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon,
While Porphyro upon her face doth look,
Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone
Who keepeth clos'd a wondrous riddle-book,
As spectacled she sits in chimney nook.
But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told
His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook
Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold
And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart
Made purple riot: then doth he propose
A stratagem, that makes the beldame start:
"A cruel man and impious thou art:
Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream
Alone with her good angels, far apart
From wicked men like thee. Go, go!---I deem
Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem."

"I will not harm her, by all saints I swear,"
Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace
When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer,
If one of her soft ringlets I displace,
Or look with ruffian passion in her face:
Good Angela, believe me by these tears;
Or I will, even in a moment's space,
Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears,
And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves and bears."

"Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul?
A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing,
Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll;
Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening,
Were never miss'd." Thus plaining, doth she bring
A gentler speech from burning Porphyro;
So woeful, and of such deep sorrowing,
That Angela gives promise she will do
Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.

Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy,
Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide
Him in a closet, of such privacy
That he might see her beauty unespied,
And win perhaps that night a peerless bride,
While legion'd fairies pac'd the coverlet,
And pale enchantment held her sleepy-eyed.
Never on such a night have lovers met,
Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt.

"It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame:
"All cates and dainties shall be stored there
Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame
Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare,
For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare
On such a catering trust my dizzy head.
Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer
The while: Ah! thou must needs the lady wed,
Or may I never leave my grave among the dead."

So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear.
The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd;
The Dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear
To follow her; with aged eyes aghast
From fright of dim espial. Safe at last
Through many a dusky gallery, they gain
The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd and chaste;
Where Porphyro took covert, pleas'd amain.
His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.

Her falt'ring hand upon the balustrade,
Old Angela was feeling for the stair,
When Madeline, St Agnes' charmed maid,
Rose, like a mission'd spirit, unaware:
With silver taper's light, and pious care,
She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led
To a safe level matting. Now prepare,
Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;
She comes, she comes again, like dove fray'd and fled.

Out went the taper as she hurried in;
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:
She closed the door, she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air, and visions wide:
No utter'd syllable, or, woe betide!
But to her heart, her heart was voluble,
Paining with eloquence her balmy side;
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.

A casement high and triple-arch'd there was,
All garlanded with carven imag'ries
Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,
As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings;
And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,
A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.

Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:
She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven:---Porphyro grew faint:
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.

Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,
In fancy, fair St Agnes in her bed,
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.

Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,
In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay,
Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd
Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;
Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day;
Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain;
Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray;
Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.

Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced,
Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress,
And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced
To wake into a slumbrous tenderness;
Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,
And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept,
Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,
And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept,
And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!---how fast she slept!

Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon
Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set
A table, and, half anguish'd, threw thereon
A doth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:---
O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!
The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,
The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarinet,
Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:---
The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.

And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep,
In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd,
While he from forth the closet brought a heap
Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd
With jellies soother than the creamy curd,
And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;
Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd
From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,
From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.

These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand
On golden dishes and in baskets bright
Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand
In the retired quiet of the night,
Filling the chilly room with perfume light.---
"And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!
Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite:
Open thine eyes, for meek St Agnes' sake,
Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."

Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm
Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream
By the dusk curtains:---'twas a midnight charm
Impossible to melt as iced stream:
The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;
Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:
It seem'd he never, never could redeem
From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes;
So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.

Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,---
Tumultuous,---and, in chords that tenderest be,
He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans mercy:"
Close to her ear touching the melody:---
Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan:
He ceased---she panted quick---and suddenly
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:
Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone.

Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,
Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:
There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd
The blisses of her dream so pure and deep,
At which fair Madeline began to weep,
And moan forth witless words with many a sigh;
While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;
Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,
Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.

"Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now
Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,
Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;
And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:
How chang'd thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!
Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,
Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!
Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,
For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go."

Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far
At these voluptuous accents, he arose,
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose
Into her dream he melted, as the rose
Blendeth its odour with the violet,---
Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows
Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet
Against the window-panes; St Agnes' moon hath set.

Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet:
"This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"
'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:
"No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!
Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.---
Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?
I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine
Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;---
A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."

"My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!
Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?
Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dyed?
Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest
After so many hours of toil and quest,
A famish'd pilgrim,---saved by miracle.
Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest
Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well
To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.

"Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land,
Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:
Arise---arise! the morning is at hand;---
The bloated wassailers will never heed:---
Let us away, my love, with happy speed;
There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,---
Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:
Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,
For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."

She hurried at his words, beset with fears,
For there were sleeping dragons all around,
At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears---
Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found.---
In all the house was heard no human sound.
A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door;
The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,
Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar;
And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.

They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall;
Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide;
Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,
With a huge empty flagon by his side:
The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,
But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:
By one, and one, the bolts fill easy slide:---
The chains lie silent on the footworn stones,---
The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.

And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
These lovers fled away into the storm.
That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,
And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form
Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm,
Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old
Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform;
The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,
For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.

--John Keats

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Conscience: Accurate or Precise?

2007-01-18T09:22:00.000-05:00

Though no profound insights are necessarily contained in them, I always like finding new metaphorical expressions for various moral or philosophical distinctions. They serve as useful mental shorthands, and can sometimes remind us to take the distinction seriously. Last night, when sampling an Opus Dei evening of reflection in our new town, one of the two speakers offered the following analogy, which occasioned this post: the distinction between following one's conscience and having a well-formed conscience is like the distinction between having a precise and an accurate clock. A conscience that is not attuned to the true moral law is no more useful than an ill-set clock, no matter how closely -- how authentically, if you will -- it is followed.

As I warned, no profound insight here. And maybe I like the analogy because, as a physicist, the distinction between accuracy (trueness-to-reality) and precision (theoretical limit to accuracy or fineness of measurement scale) is a professional obsession. But in any event, I hope you find it useful, too.

Sung Requiem Mass for King Louis XVI: This Saturday in NYC

2007-01-17T09:39:00.000-05:00

I've just been told that there will be a sung Traditional Requiem Mass for the repose of the soul of King Louis XVI, the last King of France before the Revolution, at Our Lady of Good Counsel in New York City (located on East 90th Street, between 2nd and 3rd Ave; the closest subway stop is 86th and Lexington on the 6 train). The Mass will be at 1pm this Saturday, January 20th. If you are in the New York area, how can you not attend? I wish that I could be there!

Get Help

2007-01-16T15:59:00.000-05:00

An email discussion of the newest serial-killer flick to hit the theatres got me thinking again about the topic of mental illness. It's really just the most morbidly fascinating tip of an iceberg of questions about how to reconcile psychology with a moral philosophy that holds human beings responsible for at least some of what they do. But, since it is the most morbidly fascinating bit, I'll go ahead and say something about it.

As a purely empirical matter, there can't be much wrong with observing troubled human beings and making probabilistic connections between their different behaviors. Things become tricky, though, when we start putting certain types of behavior under the heading "disease." We normally think of a disease as something a person can't help having, for which they should not be blamed. Insofar as mental illnesses distort a person's perception of physical realities (i.e. making it difficult for them to determine who or where they are, or to distinguish actual physical events from fabricated ones) we are generally quite willing to classify them as diseases and to take compassion on sufferers. Then there is a middle ground composed of illnesses like depression, alcoholism, attention-deficit disorder, and others, which don't radically distort the patient's perception of reality, but which do make it more difficult for them to behave in normal or appropriate ways. There are many difficult questions here about moral responsibility, but most of us are probably inclined to think of these illnesses as a sort of stumbling block -- they don't absolve patients of all responsibility for misdeeds, but they might be a mitigating factor at times. And most of us are probably pretty ready to regard sufferers of these conditions with compassion.

The hardest pill to swallow, though, is the so called "personality disorder." These are also classified as mental illnesses, but most of the symptoms seem to be things that would in another context be classified simply as "deeply sinful actions."

Take, for example, Antisocial Personality Disorder, a mental illness that was added to the psychology books in the relatively recent past. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders diagnoses a person as suffering from this disease when he exhibits three or more of the following symptoms:

1. failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest
2. deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure
3. impulsivity or failure to plan ahead
4. irritability and aggressiveness, as indicated by repeated fights or assaults (both physically or mentally)
5. reckless disregard for safety of self or others
6. consistent irresponsibility, as indicated by repeated failure to sustain steady work or honor financial obligations
7. lack of remorse, as indicated by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another

Well, where I come from, we've known about this disease for a very long time, but we have a different name for it: being a bad person. People in every time have given way to selfishness, greed, and hatred, sometimes to horrifying degrees, but there's something very bizarre and disturbing about labelling such people as "ill" in the same way that a person with Alzheimer's would be called ill. It seems to indicate, as I mentioned above, that the person may not be responsible for their actions... just as the Alzheimer's patient doesn't really seem responsible for his inability to remember certain things, even if that weakness leads to otherwise reprehensible behavior (i.e. forgetting a promise, forgetting to go to Mass, or forgetting an important birthday or anniversary.)

So, there are dangers that the label "personality disorder" might lead us to excuse too much. The truth is, though, that this doesn't seem to be happening on the level of criminal justice. Although psychopathy, for example, is classified as a mental illness, it isn't one that defense lawyers like to throw around for the benefit of their clients. In general a person diagnosed as a psychopath is more likely, not less, to be convicted and to be given a harsh sentence (such as a life in prison or the death penalty.) This is understandable, since the psychopath is known for being merciless and remorseless, and particularly impervious to reform. He is also known for using his high intelligence to charm and manipulate others, and to hide his evil intentions, thus enabling him to successfully pursue his malevolent ends on all levels of society. It's hardly surprising that judges and juries want to be sure such people are safely put away (or executed). However, in a Christian context, this is troubling. Can an "illness" put an individual beyond reform? Surely steps can be taken to save even the truly wicked?

What ought to be done with people diagnosed with such disorders? Sometimes, of course, parents or teachers may see signs of the incipient condition before the patient has actually done anything truly heinous. In childhood, developing ASPD or psychopathy can be anticipated in children who enjoy torturing animals and in pyromaniacs (some also list late bedwetting as a warning sign, though it probably isn't too worrisome unless seen in conjunction with these other traits.) Should a young person exhibiting such signs be put under psychiatric care? Sent to a convent or a reform school? Exorcised? Some combination of these?

And for those diagnosed in adulthood, perhaps after committing certain horrible acts, what should our attitude be? This could be a real problem for, for example, a prison chaplain trying to decide how to approach inmates on death row. He will have to consider soberly the degree to which a troubled person is responsible for his actions, as well as the degree to which reform is a realistic possibility. Even for those of us who don't (we hope) encounter psychopaths or sociopaths regularly, it's a challenge figuring out how to think about them. On one level, it doesn't seem wholly wrong to pity them, thinking a grateful "there but for the grace of God..." As Augustine reminds us in his famous fruit-stealing episode of the Confessions, the seeds of radical evil are planted in all of us, and we can never know how far we might have fallen but for God's undeserved grace.

At the same time, though, too much identification with a really deeply wicked person seems frightening and maybe wrong. I have a lot of personal experience with greed and selfishness, but I don't know that Ted Bundy and I were that much alike; I, for example, generally feel pain instead of pleasure when I realize that I've hurt someone. Using such people as a cautionary tale also seems like a stretch. I am tempted to many unfortunate thoughts and actions, but I'm not much inclined towards senseless violence or sadism. We shouldn't underestimate radical depravity by identifying it too flippantly with our own more petty weaknesses.

How have the great saints responded to the fantastically and grotesquely evil man? I can think of lots of examples of encounters between saints and heretics, but nothing quite like this.
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Bearing with Ourselves

2007-01-14T15:06:00.000-05:00

I was reading today from a little book that I bought from Sophia Press a few months back, containing letters written by St. Francis de Sales to various people under his spiritual direction. I knew very little about St. Francis de Sales before buying this book, but I very quickly came to love him. He has a gentle and patient wisdom that is exactly right for a spiritual director, and his words are uplifting in way that reminds me of St. Therese of Lisieux. His tender concern for the souls of his correspondents (most of whom are laypeople) reassures us that we are all, without exception, of interest to God. But at the same time, he tries at every opportunity to relax those neuroses that turn piety, penance and scrupulosity into sources of pride and petty vanity. We are warned not to become too despondent about our imperfections, since they are expected of fallen beings; and yet, we must not become apathetic either, because every day affords us small and humble opportunities to draw closer to God.

"We must hate our faults, but with a tranquil and quiet hate, not with an angry and restless hate; and so we must have patience when we see them, and draw from them the profit of a holy abasement of ourselves. Without this, my child, your imperfections, which you scrutinize so subtly, will trouble you by getting still more subtle, and by this means sustain themselves, as there is nothing that more preserves our weeds than disquietude and eagerness in removing them."

It is always quite difficult for us to accept the pronouncement that "my grace is enough for you." We want to go forth with zeal, conquering evil and rooting up sin; instead we are made to be patient and to satisfy ourselves with minor penances and trivial tasks and the promise that all will be made right in the long run. Traditional Catholics, perhaps, have a particularly difficult time with this. We bristle with anger and impatience at everything that is wrong in the world, and especially in the Church, and we are inclined to forget that God has willed for us to suffer whatever trials are put before us.

This leaves us at the center of a perplexing paradox. We must wish with all our hearts for the world as a whole and our souls in particular to be better than they are, and to be made perfect even as the Father is perfect. But at the same time, we must accept willingly, lovingly, and patiently every evil that befalls us, trusting that it will somehow be for the best, because God in his wisdom is apparently pleased to allow these temptations to continue.

Hans Urs von Balthasar writes very profoundly about this same paradox.

"The experience of our sinfulness: how everything that could be pure and pleasing in the sight of God -- indeed, even the most innocent and ordinary thing -- is vitiated by the breath of unholiness, as when a person who has foul breath exhales it even when he sleeps. Nihil est innoxium ["nothing is harmless", says the Pentecost hymn Veni, sancte Spiritus]. This is how we could understand Luther's and Kant's concept of "radical evil." And yet, it would be a weakness to stop here and not plunge even this thought into God's grandeur. Here precisely is where we must perceive the opportunity to leap out of ourselves: as when in prayer we recognize, for instance, that no act of pure praise will ever rise from our soul and that the best love it is capable of is still full of egotism and all manner of stains. At such a moment we must awaken in ourselves a longing for the great purifying fire that would of itself consume us so that we might at last adore with all our soul. But at the same time we must perform an act of obedience and continue in this foul pit for as long as God deems it a good thing."

Notice that Balthasar admits frankly that there is very great evil, both in the world and in ourselves. The place where we labor is a "foul pit," and we ourselves breathe out unholiness with every breath, but at the same time we must be content to remain here for a time because God wills it. We are almost irresistibly drawn to believe that other people in other places or times have had things better than we; traditional Catholics, for example, like to look longingly back to the 1950's, or perhaps the 19th century, as though a Catholic paradise existed then from which we have been exiled. But even if we were the most unfortunate people in the history of the Church, we would still need to remember that it is sinful to reject the cup that has been set before us. At times when we find ourselves particularly incensed at the evils within the Church, within our country, or within ourselves, it might be well for us to meditate on these words, and also on those of St. Francis, who goes on to say,

"To be dissatisfied and fret about the world when we must of necessity be in it, is a great temptation. God's Providence is wiser than we. We fancy that by changing our ships, we shall get on better; yes, if we change ourselves.

My God, I am sworn enemy of these useless, dangerous, and bad desires; for although we desire what is good, the desire is bad, because God does not will us this sort of good, but another, in which He wants us to exercise ourselves. God wishes to speak to us in the thorns and the bush, as He did to Moses; and we want Him to speak in the small wind, gentle and fresh, as He did to Elijah."

God will not forsake us, however dark the road may become. St. Frances de Sales, pray for us!
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A Catholic Environmentalism?

2007-01-12T16:15:00.000-05:00

I went and saw the movie Happy Feet a week or so ago. If anyone was thinking of seeing it and hasn't yet, this is my advice: go for first hour or so, and then leave. I'm quite serious. It starts out as a charming and innocent children's story. In a sort of cartoon spin-off of March of the Penguins it features a society of emperor penguins in which singing is most the prized skill. The hero of the film is a penguin with a tin ear but a talent for dancing, and the first hour features a classic ugly duckling plot which, however cliche its basic form, is developed in cute and amusing ways.

But halfway through, our dancing friend persuades his peers to embrace his waltzing ways, and brings them back prancing to the larger penguin community. The movie now takes a dramatic and unexpected turn. The elders (thin, knarled, beady-eyed penguins reminiscent of Mr. Burns) declare the dancing to be "impious" and blame the young dancer for the shortage of food that the region has recently been suffering. The "Great Penguin", they declare, will not bless the community with fish unless the upstart youngsters follow the old ways... and consequently our hero is banished. He sets off to find out what really happened to the fish, and the rest of the film is an environmentalist tract peppered with ludicrously transparent jabs at religious authority.

Happy Feet is an excellent example of the kind of rhetoric that makes me hate the environmentalist movement even though, at the same time, I love nature. Growing up in Boulder, I dearly loved the mountains and other natural beauties, but I always sneered at the "Save the Earth" units that seemed to be part of every year's curriculum. It was hard then to pinpoint exactly why I was so cynical about them, but now I think I can articulate it better. Liberal environmentalists wish to push their agenda by undermining belief in the soul and trivializing the value of the human person. They portray human beings as just another animal that happened to evolve on this planet -- and somehow from that they draw the normative conclusion that we are obliged to value every other species as much as our own. It's something of a species multiculturalism, and even though it's patently obvious that other animal species are eager to promote their own interests at any cost, we're supposed to mark our ordinariness by showing equal consideration for all living things.

Even if we could work out the internal contradictions, this clearly is not a Christian viewpoint. Whatever we may think about evolution with regards to our bodies, a Christian must hold that we have souls, that they are supernatural gifts of God, and that one human soul is "of more worth than many sparrows." Species egalitarianism is rightly rejected.

But in our reaction against liberal incarnations of environmentalism, it is easy to forget that Christians do still have obligations to the natural world. Adam and Eve were set as stewards over all the animals. When they were told to "multiply and replenish the earth," we normally understand that as a command to bear children. But wouldn't it make more sense to suppose that they were expected to replenish the earth with human children and other things as well?

In Perelandra, the second book of CS Lewis' famous Space Trilogy, the incarnation of Satan pollutes the unfallen world of Venus by leaving a trail of dead birds across the island where he dwells. The hero of the story (who is neither a vegetarian nor a Green Peace activist, and who proves at a later point that he is not a pacifist) finds this sight almost unbearably hideous, and the reason is that the birds were killed utterly gratuitously. To kill for food or for some other righteous purpose is permitted to the stewards of the world, but all living things are God's creatures nonetheless, and destroying them for no good reason is an evil action.

Should we be thinking more than we do about our stewardship over the planet? I have an almost kneejerk reaction against anything that smacks of environmentalism, going back to my grade school days and the memories of Earth Day and the Rainforest Rap. But a Catholic environmentalism would directly challenge the errors of the flaky environmentalism that was taught to me. We have obligations to the natural world, not because we are equal to the beasts, but because we are above them and assigned to rule over them. We sacrifice some of our own interests, not because we are ordinary, but precisely because we are unique. Christians can make environmentalism make sense.

Once we appreciate this insight, though, it would be nice to get a more concrete idea about what our obligations are. Is littering a sin? Should the crueller forms of animal testing be banned? Is it righteous to support the National Park Service? Torturing cats and pulling the wings off flies are obviously bad, but most environmental damage is done to further some human interest, and I don't have much insight at present about how to balance those kinds of goods.

I'm curious whether anyone knows of encyclicals or other Magisterial pronouncements that address these sorts of questions. It's unfortunate to let liberals claim for themselves a whole set of issues that we Christians should be addressing on our own terms. Wouldn't it be delicious to see the confusion in the liberal ranks if conservative Catholics suddenly started expressing concern for the rainforest?
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Catholic retirement: a suggestion

2007-01-10T18:50:00.000-05:00

Maybe I'm a little young to be worrying about this, but visiting relatives over Christmas always gets me thinking about how people spend their post-retirement years. Most people seem to have quite a lot of them these days. If you're in good health, those years can be quite pleasant for people who have enough money and a slate of hobbies or activities that they enjoy. People who live to a very advanced age, however, are less and less likely to be able to live an active sort of life. Western cultures are having a very difficult time figuring out what to do with their elderly citizens.

In some cultures, the old are given great respect and much care. Uzbek culture is like this, and older people are more or less permitted to become household tyrants, ordering everyone around and taking the best of everything for themselves. I can't say that this model was entirely pleasing to me. Obviously, it can be quite burdensome on young people to be forced to answer to their elders' every whim, and young brides especially are often treated more like slaves than like family members. We Americans tended to feel quite resentful on behalf of the young wives who, even when heavily pregnant, would be running to and fro doing chores and waiting on everyone while the rest of the family sat around drinking tea. Quite honestly, I was never sure that the arrangement was entirely healthy for the older people either. People of any age can become quite repulsive when societal taboos against rudeness and selfishness are lifted. Some resist that temptation, of course, but some don't, and bossing people around for several years didn't seem to me like an ideal way to prepare to meet one's Maker.

Still, for all its flaws, the Uzbek system did at least have this advantage: it provided care for the elderly. In the West, people are often neglected and forgotten in their old age, which is partly the result of a more youth-centered culture, but also of medical advances that keep people alive much longer. When people lived for only five or ten years after retirement, it wasn't so difficult to make arrangements for their care, and their children and grandchildren (generally more numerous in those days) had the feeling that they should cherish what time they had left with their elders. In a world in which people quite often live more than ninety years, retirees may well still be around for twenty or thirty more years, so the "enjoy each other while we can" feeling is less pressing, and taking personal responsibility for an older person's care can be a very long-term commitment. Depending on how much care is needed, it can be quite difficult for young families to make a place for grandparents in their homes, and in an ever-more-fluid society, it's not at all easy for extended families even to live in the same city.

This leaves a lot of older people in a bad position. The Western obsession with euthanasia and living wills speaks to a widespread fear that advanced age can mean, not only feebleness and infirmity, but also the indignity either of being burdensome to others or else of being neglected by them... and this unhappy state can continue for decades. No one likes feeling patronized, or knowing that they are useless to others, and yet this seems to be the lot of almost everyone who lives beyond a certain age, where physical and mental decay turn once-capable adults into a kind of future-less children.

Before I start everyone weeping into their keyboards, I should turn to the more positive thoughts that I've been having. I've always been inspired by the large numbers of elderly Catholic women who come to Immaculate Conception Church (up the street from my apartment) on Friday mornings when they offer Mass and exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. These devout souls will often stay for hours to pray or just to enjoy being close to Jesus. Sometimes I would stop and talk to them when entering or leaving the Church, and of course, they were touchingly delighted to see young people like the members of the Cornell Society for a Good Time, stopping in before work or class to pray their Stations. ("You're the future of the Church," one rather charming older lady would always tell me, beaming. "God bless you all!") Many of these people, I think, were driven over to Mass together from one of the local retirement homes.

With such tiny numbers of young people entering contemplative religious orders, might this not be a particularly appropriate task for the elderly: to pray for the Church? Catholics should know better than anybody that this is a task of enormous importance, but one needs neither health, nor wealth, nor great mental acuity to do it. Pastors might take it upon themselves to tell their elderly parishioners: your service to the Church is not finished. We need you, quite desperately, for your prayers. Please spend as many hours as possible in prayer and contemplation.

I was also wondering whether there are many Catholic retirement homes that are structured to facilitate this kind of life, so I did a little informal research online. I found many Catholic retirement homes, most of which were diocesan. Some made no mention at all of anything Catholic in their operations, beyond the fact that they got some funding from the diocese. Others mentioned having Mass on the premises, and one or two had not only daily Mass, but also daily rosary prayers. None excluded non-Catholics from residency, so far as I could tell, and I'm sure none required residents to participate in any sort of religious activity.

So, this is my thought: how would it be if the Church established retirement homes that were more deeply Catholic, with a life resembling to some degree the lives of religious? They would not need anything precisely equivalent to vows per se, but they could adopt the rhythm of life found in a religious community, and residents could be expected to participate in this life so far as their health permitted. Imagine how much good could be done, both for residents themselves and for the Church as a whole, if thousands more devout Catholics could spend several hours of every day adoring the Blessed Sacrament and praying for the Church! Bishops, priests, or individuals could submit prayer requests to these homes, just as they do to houses of religious, and residents could be expected to take shifts in perpetual adoration, to pray the Office, or anything else that seemed appropriate. Of course exemptions would need to be granted to those who were unable to keep pace for reasons of health. But, in the ideal situation, a priest could take charge of the whole house, and (in addition to saying daily Mass and administering sacraments to his flock) could act as a sort of informal "superior." Residents might ask his permission to be excused from certain duties, or to have certain foods, entertainment, etc. that were not ordinarily permitted in the house; since he would be their pastor, they would in any case be expected to acknowledge his authority, but submission to more stringent requirements could be seen as a expectation of residence in the house. The thing might work best if separate houses were established for widows and for widowers, though that might be less important in advanced age, when lust becomes less of a temptation for most.

Could such a thing ever be made to work? Of course giving the last ten or twenty years of one's life to the Church is not at all the same as giving one's entire life, from youth, to the Church. But even ten or twenty years' worth or prayers might be of enormous benefit to the Church as a whole, and for the residents of the house it could be a tremendous blessing. Instead of feeling worthless and drifting, they could be part of a holy community, and could know that they were needed and valued. The pains and infirmity of age could actually add something to the holiness of their sparse and ascetical lives. And, perhaps most importantly, it would be an ideal way to prepare the soul for death.

I don't know for certain whether anyone would actually want to come and live in such a place. But, based on the large numbers of devout women praying at Immaculate Conception Church on Friday mornings, I'm guessing that some would come. It would be a wonderful way to further reinforce the idea the Catholic Church cherishes life all the way through, from conception until natural death.

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Prayers for Vatican II

2007-01-09T08:36:00.000-05:00

This summer, in the week before our marriage, Catharina Senensis and I accompanied a priest friend of ours to the fascinating warehouses of a church salvager who calls himself The Ecclesiologist. This is where all those statues and altar rails and marble pulpits go when the spirit of Vatican II reaches some unfortunate parish. Anyway, Jason, the owner of the business -- a rather scatterbrained but friendly and generous fellow -- gave us the run of his warehouse while our friend shopped for his new church building. We found a treasure trove of old Catholic books and dinged up statues and crucifixes, all of which Jason gave us gratis, no doubt counting the value of a couple of dozen falling apart books as less than the major pieces our friend was agreeing to buy. In one of these books, a 1962 book of Altar Prayers, we found a cache of old prayer cards once used by a St. Michael's parish in Connecticut. Several of these were devoted to praying for the Second Vatican Council, and are a rather melancholy reminder of the hopes of the faithful in those days for that Council. I've scanned a couple of these cards for the edification and entertainment of our readers. Enjoy!

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Where Are Your Children?

2007-01-08T05:43:00.000-05:00

I was reading the other day that a law has just been enacted in Germany to allow women to take an entire year off with two-thirds of their normal pay, following the birth of a child. This rather incredible measure is one of many that European countries have enacted in recent years, in an effort to beg and cajole their citizens into having offspring. So far the results have been pretty abysmal. Fewer babies were born in Germany in the last year than in the final year of WWII, when the country was war-torn and many of the men killed or absent from home. This trend can be seen all across the continent. European society has simply lost the will to reproduce itself.

Everyone recognizes by now that this is a demographical problem. Much less is said about the spiritual sickness of which the low birth rate is symptomatic. Of course, if you asked them, Europeans would probably say that they have few children because they value their careers and their creature comforts, and even now, I imagine a great many would claim that they "can't afford" to have more. But the fact remains that the society that prefers the covered porch or the office job to the blessing of progeny is desperately ill. I thought I might post a few quotes from Archbishop Sheen's "Three to Get Married", which deals with this subject quite profoundly. This is a very good book on love and marriage generally, and I've been meaning to post some quotes from it on the subject of marriage itself (not a subject we've discussed much on this blog), but in this case I was reminded of Sheen's words on generation. Of course, the Archbishop lived before the era in which people were assured that it would be virtuous of them to forgo parenthood, since the world was becoming overpopulated. (Can you believe that this view was still being aggressively promoted even when I was in high school, less than a decade ago?) But it seems to me that his words are eerily relevant to the situation we see today, as if he were clairvoyant about the culture that was soon to come.

Nothing is more religious in nature than procreation; it is the sign both of unity and continuity. The disjointed, separated, and egotistical have no use for the child. The men and women who think of their lives as bounded by the time limits of a cow cannot wait for the future; the craving for immediate pleasure and repose kills the willingness to plant a flower and wait for its maturity. Only those who have immortality in their hearts really yearn to prolong that immortality through the child. An impoverished heart has nothing to contribute to another but its emptiness and, therefore, nothing to transmit to posterity. No one can transmit what he has not got. The will not to prolong life is a confession that one lacks life. When the spirit has become sterile, then even human life seems worthless. And if one cannot bear the ennui and boredom of his own life, there is no urge to give life to others. The denial of offspring is a sign of the deadening of the spirit.

Can it be any surprise to us, then, that a society steeped in secularism and liberalism will also find itself declining in population? As Europe's spiritual fruits wither, so too do the physical. Of course, the liberal wishes to identify procreation with the animal, and hence to see himself as somehow above it. I have not room to rehearse the whole of Sheen's perceptive response to this error, but for now it suffices to say that the will to create and diffuse goodness is not primarily animal. It is first and foremost divine, and everyone, without exception, is expected to be fecund in one way or another.

Since God is goodness, and goodness tends to diffuse itself, God hates voluntary barrenness and sterility. Those who refuse to bring new life into the world will not be blessed by God. The priest who goes before the judgment seat of God without having brought souls to Christ, either through active ministry, in which he saves them directly, or through a contemplative ministry, in which he saves them indirectly, will be frowned upon by God. God will ask each person on judgment day, "Where are your children?

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Why?

2007-01-07T07:47:00.000-05:00

We've all seen it a million times, but I never cease to think of it whenever the issue of Communion in the hand comes to the fore - Mother Teresa's "secret":

"I will tell you a secret, since we have just a thousand close friends together, and also because we have the Missionaries of Charity with us . . .

"Not very long ago I said Mass and preached for their Mother, Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and after breakfast we spent quite a long time talking in a little room. Suddenly, I found myself asking her -- don't know why -- 'Mother, what do you think is the worst problem in the world today?' She more than anyone could name any number of candidates: famine, plague, disease, the breakdown of the family, rebellion against God, the corruption of the media, world debt, nuclear threat, and so on.

"Without pausing a second she said, 'Wherever I go in the whole world, the thing that makes me the saddest is watching people receive Communion in the hand.' "

Why now, of all times, when so many are filled with hope for some kind of restoration of the old Mass or at least a reform of the Reform? For Benedict to grant communion in the hand to Poland is not pastoral; it is an open road to abuses and sacrilege; it is to make likely a lessened belief in the Real Presence and to diminish reverence at Mass. It is a million horrible things, and I, for one, am saddened that this has happened. Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised when Rome does stupid and horrible things - they were about to appointment a former Communist agent the archbishop of Warsaw - but this is still saddening.

From Rorate Caeli:

CONGREGAZIONE PER IL CULTO DIVINO
E LA DISCIPLINA DEI SACRAMENTI

Prot. 376/06/L

POLONIAE

Instante Excellentissimo Domino Iosepho Michalik, Archiepiscopo Premisliensi Latinorum, Praeside Conferentiae Episcoporum Poloniae, litteris die 6 martii 2006 datis, vigore facultatum huic Congregationi a Summo Pontifice BENEDICTO XVI tributarum, perlibenter concedimus ut in dioecesibus Poloniae usus admittatur consecratum Panem in fidelium manibus ponendi, ad normam Instructionis De modo sanctam Communionem ministrandi et adnexae Epistolae ad Praesides Conferentiarum Episcopalium (cf. AAS 61-1969, 541-547).

Contrariis quibuslibet minime obstantibus.

Ex aedibus Congregationis de Cultu Divino et Disciplina Sacramentorum, die 21 aprilis 2006.

(+ Franciscus Card. Arinze)
Praefectus

(+ Albertus Malcolm Ranjith)
Archiepiscopus a Secretis

And what gives with the language of this letter to "Poland"?

The portion I've bolded: "very willingly" or "with great pleasure we allow that in the dioceses of Poland the practice of putting the consecrated bread into the hands of the faithful be admitted." Very willingly? With great pleasure? Perlibenter? Did Reggie write this letter and then did it go unedited? Seems like something he'd be excited about. :)

That's all the more the letter says. The rest of it reads: "At the request of the President of the Polish Episcopal Conference, in a letter of the 6th of March 2006, on the strength of the powers entrusted by Benedict to this Congregation, with great pleasure [perlibenter] we allow that in the dioceses of Poland the practice of putting the consecrated bread into the hands of the faithful be admitted, according to the norm of the Instruction "About the manner of administering Holy Communion" and the attached letters to the presidents of episcopal conferences. Anything to the contrary not withstanding."

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Feast of the Epiphany

2007-01-06T09:01:00.000-05:00

Beautiful words from Leo the Great! Notice the repeated "just as that, so also this" structure for rhetorical emphasis:

Agnoscamus ergo, dilectissimi, in Magis adoratoribus Christi, vocationis nostræ fideique primitias; et exsultantibus animis beatæ spei initia celebremus. Exinde enim in æternam hereditatem cœpimus introire: exinde nobis Christum loquentia Scripturarum arcana patuerunt: et veritas, quam Judæorum obcæcatio non recipit, omnibus nationibus lumen suum invexit. Honoretur itaque a nobis sacratissimus dies, in quo salutis nostræ Auctor apparuit: et quem Magi infantem venerati sunt in cunabulis, nos omnipotentem adoremus in cælis. Ac sicut illi de thesauris suis mysticas Domino munerum species obtulerunt, ita et nos de cordibus nostris, quæ Deo sunt digna, promamus.

Therefore let us recognize, most beloved, in the Magi worshippers of Christ, the first fruits of our vocation and faith; and exsulting in spirit, let us celebrate the beginnings of our blessed hope. For from this point we begin to enter into an eternal inheritance: now the hidden sayings of Scripture have revealed Christ to us: and the truth, which the blindness of the Jews did not receive, has sent forth its light to all nations. Accordingly, let this most sacred day be honored by us, the day on which the Author of our salvation appeared: and the one whom the Magi worshipped as an infant in swaddling cloths, let us adore as the omnipotent in heaven! And just as they offered from their treasures mystical kinds of gifts to the Lord, so also let us bring forth gifts from our hearts worthy of our God.

I note for those of you who, well, like to note this kind of thing in your copy of Lewis & Short (p. 1249): for the word obcaecatio or occaecatio, there's one citation, and the meaning is given as "a hiding or concealing." But the meaning here in Leo seems to be "blindness", which is, of course, related to the much more common word, the verb, occaeco, "to make blind". A glance at Souter would be informative, but I can't get to it at the moment. Still, given the period Lewis & Short covers, they might have noted this later meaning of obcaecatio.

I wouldn't put it past Leo, though, to be making a play with the word on its earlier and later meanings, for obcaecatio comes in between paturerunt as well as lumen suum. Patuerunt, "they opened, revealed" is opposed to the hiding or concealing of the truth by the Jews, and lumen, "light", is opposed to the blindness of the Jews, both of which meanings could be found in obcaecatio.

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Ottaviani on Ecumenism

2007-01-05T10:11:00.000-05:00

I came across the following quotation the other day in Alfredo Cardinal Ottaviani's Duties of the Catholic State in Regard to Religion. This was a lecture given in the presence of the Supreme Pontiff, Pius XII, on the occasion of that august pontiff's fourteenth anniversary as pope in 1953. I'm going to write more about the lecture later, but today, I thought I'd share this little bit touching on ecumenism.

When, in 1949, there was held at Amsterdam a reunion of various heterodox bodies in view of furthering the ecumenical movement, there were represented in that assembly no fewer than 146 different Churches or Confessions. The delegates present belonged to about 50 nations. There were Calvinists, Lutherans, Copts, Old Catholics, Baptists, Waldenses, Methodists, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Malabar Christians, Seventh-Day Adventists, etc.

The Catholic Church, knowing herself to be in firm possession of the truth and unity of Christ's Mystical Body, could not, logically, take part in such an assembly with a view to seeking there that union which the others have not got. . . .

This quotation impressed me both by its frankness and the late date (to my mind) at which it was uttered; only ten years before the Council, prelates, in a very public assembly, were still proclaiming the infallible dogma that the mystical body of Christ is the Catholic Church. Of course, this is precisely what Pius XII had said in Mystici Corporis, but I relish the way in which Cardinal Ottaviani draws the logical conclusions in connection with this dogma in relation to the so-called ecumenical movement.

We shouldn't forget, no matter how much time passes under the shadow of men like Cardinal Kasper, that the ecumenism of non-return, if I may call it that, is bunk. Moreover, back in the dark ages of 1953, the Vatican was of one mind in avoiding such ecumenical assemblies altogether. Today, the presence of a Roman prelate is mandatory if something that big and media-exciting is going to happen.

The quotation from Cardinal Ottaviani shows us the continuity in thinking (and teaching) between 1953 and, for example, Pius XI's 1928 Mortalium animos.

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Missteps in the Military Chaplaincy?

2007-01-04T07:32:00.000-05:00

A military friend of ours writes in with these words about Archbishop Edwin O'Brien's opposition to a bill in the U.S. Congress which would recognize the right of a chaplain to pray according to his conscience. I.e., if the chaplain were Jewish, he could pray like a Jew, if Catholic, like a Catholic, without having to cater his every word to please the multi-faith censors. The first paragraphs of the article:

WASHINGTON (CNS) -- A congressional proposal that would have guaranteed the right of military chaplains to pray according to their conscience could also have had an "adverse effect on unit cohesion" and even result in a ban on all public prayer in the military, according to the head of the U.S. Archdiocese for the Military Services.

Archbishop Edwin F. O'Brien said in a Sept. 21 letter to U.S. Catholic chaplains that a proposed amendment to the National Defense Authorization Act of 2007 "would seek to impose a legislative mandate for military chaplains without considering the religious needs of all military members."

Our friend disagrees and writes:

In the December newsletter from the US Military Archdiocese, they proudly reprint the [above] article from the Catholic News Service. This is sickening to read. Are they so committed to praying with no reference to Our Lord and Our Lady that they would go to this length? All this proposed law would do is give chaplains the right, not the requirement, to pray in public in accordance with their own traditions. Why would the Catholic archbishop of the US Armed Forces oppose such a law? Could it be that there priests would no longer have an excuse to use only inclusive language and non-denominational prayers? They apparent don't want the cover of law to be true Catholic priests.

What would Servant of God Fr. Kapaun do? He, like many Catholic priests prior to V II, prayed in accordance with Catholic tradition and he was loved and adored by soldiers from all backgrounds: protestants, Jews, and atheists. When a protestant military chaplain is leading a mixed group of military personnel in prayer, I don't expect him to invoke the Blessed Virgin Mary. Don't you think non-Catholics in the presence of a Catholic chaplain would have a similar expectation? They would expect him to pray like a Catholic priest. Apparently, this is something that the Archdiocese doesn't want. They don't want Catholic priests. They want masonic "presiders" -- and that, by in large, is who they are getting...

A tricky situation this seems to be. Perhaps someone can explain to us just how this chaplain business plays out - must Catholic soldiers ever attend at the prayers of Jews, Mohammedans, and protestants? Things are dandy if Fr. Kapaun is on the job, but not every unit can have a Catholic chaplain with it, can it? Contrary to the language I used above, Jews and other infidels don't have a right to pray according to their conscience, I think, since error has no such rights, even if it's expedient in a state constituted like America to allow, at least, each religion some limited sphere.

We know that there is at least one U.S. military chaplain who is no masonic presider - he is also now chaplain to the armed wing our Society - perhaps he would care to share some thoughts on this subject?

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Consecrated Virginity: What's the Point?

2007-01-03T02:36:00.002-05:00

Don't think I'm being dismissive. I mean that question sincerely. I was reading a little bit about consecrated virginity today and I'm trying to figure out what to make of it.

According to the United States Association of Consecrated Virgins (USACV) there are "more than 150" consecrated virgins (living in the world) in the United States. Not very many, in other words, but the number seems to be growing; of the European countries listed in their statistics, France has the most consecrated virgins, with more than 600. No non-European countries (other than the US) were listed, but another report I read mentioned a handful of consecrated virgins in Africa and the Middle East as of 1995, and a more significant number in South America (more than 200 in Argentina as of 1995.)

The practice of consecrating virgins (outside of religious orders) was re-established by Pope Paul VI in 1970. Before that time the Church had apparently not had consecrated virgins living in the world for centuries, though it has been observed that this individual vocation was one of the most common in the early years of the Church. The local bishop decides whether to allow a woman to be consecrated, and he is the designated minister of the consecration. The women continue to live in the world and support themselves, and to pray and volunteer their time to the Church.

The Q and A section of the USACV website addresses the question: why be virginal? Its answers to that question were predictable, but it does not address the question that seems most obvious to me: if it is your desire to be virginal for God's sake, why not be nun or a hermit? I'm having trouble seeing exactly what role consecrated virgins are needed to play.

On the one hand, I am sympathetic to the argument that everyone has unique gifts and particular contributions that they are equipped to make. I've always warmed to the idea that it is right to have some living in the world and working God's will there, while others withdraw from it to pray, providing that invisible leaven whose fruits are so precious to the Church as a whole. But what unique gifts would direct a woman towards consecrated virginity? A life of prayer, it seems to me, will be lived more fully within a religious community, where everything the women do is ordered towards that end. Religious orders can also facilitate a life of service, and nuns are often assigned to live away from the community in order to do social work, catechize the young, and so forth.

Of course, there are certain sorts of jobs which nuns are rarely or never asked to fill, and it's possible that a woman might have a special ability for one of these, and might, consequently, not wish to be a nun. According to the USACV site, American consecrated virgins have a wide variety of occupations, including: secretary, teacher, nurse or doctor, firefighter, forensic chemist, university administrator. Probably there aren't a lot of firefighting nuns out there. But it seems a little funny to name, as a primary benefit of consecrated virginity, that it allows women to have careers without the unfortunate interruption of children.

I like the idea of allowing people to become hermits or anchorites without joining religious orders. There does seem to be something unique and valuable about the person who seeks God in insolation, not only from the world, but even from religious community. Consecrated virginity within the world is different. I suppose by allowing for it, the Church could make a space for women when want to be virginal for Christ's sake, but who can't find a healthy religious order that will take them. But apart from that benefit, I guess I'm having a little trouble seeing what a consecrated virginity outside religious orders adds to the Church as a whole. Are there any sympathizers (or consecrated virgins) out there who can enlighten me?

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Cornell alum seeks to extend the indult

2007-01-02T08:47:00.000-05:00

One happy though unintended consequence of running this blog is that it has put us in touch with Cornell alumni of similar views. Like we, they languished under incompetent clergy and lay ministers while at Cornell, but by the grace of God, kept the Faith and have moved on to greener pastures. Some have contacted us by email, we met one at the Pilgrimage for Restoration this past fall, some regularly comment on the blog, one even sang in one of our weddings. I'm glad that they take the time to write or leave a comment.

One friend of ours and a Cornell alum has even gone a step farther than we ever did in dialogue with the Chaplaincy. Each year (or more often), the Chaplaincy sends out a mailing to the Catholic alumni asking for contributions. Judging by the mailing, everything looks orthodox (by N.O. standards) and dandy; so we've long fantasized about "acquiring" the mailing list in order to inform alumni how things really go down in the Freemasons' building, Anabel Taylor Hall. But this friend of ours, in a recent letter to Fr. Dan McMullin, decided to come straight to the point:

Dear Rev. McMullin,

I recently received your letter, dated December 20, 2006, requesting that I donate to the Catholic Community Annual Fund. I write to inform you that I would be most pleased to make a contribution to help defray the cost of establishing a traditional Latin (“Tridentine”) Mass at Cornell University.

As I trust you are aware, John Paul II has requested that the Tridentine Mass be made “widely and generously available,” and His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI, when still a Cardinal, declared that “the old rite should be granted much more generously to all who desire it.” As I trust you are also aware, interest in the traditional Latin Mass is largely a phenomenon among Catholic youth, and so making the Latin Mass (described as “the most beautiful thing this side of heaven” by Fr. Fortescue) available at Cornell would be most appropriate.

Unfortunately, despite the fact that most dioceses in the United States make the Latin Mass available on a regular basis, it is my understanding that the Cornell Catholic Community does not yet provide a Latin Mass to the students under its care. If you are interested in fulfilling the wishes of our current and past Holy Fathers, please let me know and, as indicated at the commencement of this letter, I would be happy to make a contribution toward this end.

"does not yet provide" - amen, brother! Who knows? someday, maybe, there will be an old Mass on campus. The thing is, if there were an old Mass at Cornell each week, especially if the Novus Ordo remained as it is now at Cornell, laughably poor musically, liturigically and doctrinally, it would have 20 to 30 students each week (at least). More, to be sure, if it were offered by a serious, solid priest, and not one associated with the campus Chaplaincy.

This will be something to watch for, won't it? when, after Benedict's motu proprio, does the Tridentine make a first appearance on a college campus - not just as a one time gig, we did that at Cornell a long time ago! - but as a regular weekly Mass?

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The Circumcision and the Eschaton

2007-01-01T09:15:00.000-05:00

Now one more year gone in this, the sixth and final age of the world. The Venerable Bede and St. Cyril on the Circumcision of Our Lord:

Cyrillus: Octavo autem die consuetum erat carnalem celebrari circumcisionem: octavo enim die Christus a mortuis resurrexit, et insinuavit nobis spiritualem circumcisionem, dicens: euntes, docete omnes gentes, baptizantes eos.

Beda: In eius autem resurrectione praefigurata est utraque nostra resurrectio, et carnis et spiritus: Christus enim circumcisus nostram naturam docuit et nunc per ipsum a vitiorum labe purgandam, et in novissimo die a mortis peste restaurandam; et sicut Dominus octava die, hoc est post septimam sabbati, resurrexit; ita et ipsi post sex huius saeculi aetates et septimam sabbati animarum, quae nunc interim in alia vita geritur, quasi octavo tempore surgemus.

Cyril: Now on the eighth day it was customary to celebrate the circumcision in the flesh: so on the eighth day Christ rose from the dead and made known to us the spiritual circumcision, saying: "going, teach all nations, baptizing them . . ."

Bede: For in His resurrection was prefigured our own, both of the flesh and the spirit: so Christ circumcised taught our nature that it must now be purged from the stain of vice and on the last day be restored from the disease of death. And just as the Lord rose on the eighth day, that is, after the seventh day, the Sabbath, so also after the six ages of this world and the Sabbath day of souls, which in a manner now goes on meanwhile, in the eighth time, as it were, we will arise.

I don't know that I've understood "quae nunc interim in alia vita geritur" - any thoughts?

A happy new year to all! Felix sit omnibus annus novus!

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Wanted: more atheists

2006-12-31T01:33:00.000-05:00

One of the perks of being a philosopher is that you get a quite a lot of contact with a creature who, as the last post suggests, is really quite rare in the United States: the (relatively) honest atheist. I haven't done my own survey, but I'm willing to bet that a very disproportionately high percentage of academic philosophers not only disbelieve in God but, even more unusually, don't even talk to Him.

CS Lewis sometimes draws a distinction between those who are close to God (or to union with God) by resemblance and those who are close by approach. The difference is fairly intuitive, but might be seen most clearly by imagining, say two pianists who both share a goal of learning to play the Moonlight Sonata. One does this by taking a year of piano lessons and then diving right into the piece, eventually producing something that is sloppy and filled with mistakes, but that is at least recognizable in places as an attempt at the Moonight Sonata. The second student devotes his time instead to building up his technical skills and precision, and takes up the piece only when he deems himself ready. His work with scales and arpeggios won't resemble the Moonight Sonata as much as the more impatient, lazier student's production. But he, more than the other, will actually be approaching the level where he can really play the piece well. So, one is closer to his goal by resemblance, and the other by approach. It may be, as the famous quote from Revelation suggests, that something similar applies to the dedicated atheist and the lukewarm believer.

Philosophers, poets and other ideologues have, in fact, been known to undergo serious intellectual conversions of a sort rarely seen among the less intellectually inclined. Consider TS Eliot, Wallace Stevens, or Alasdair MacIntyre. The truth is that atheism, as an intellectual position, is psychologically difficult to hold. I'm reminded of the first chapter of Pope Benedict's (very inappropriately named) Introduction to Christianity. Using the Little Flower as an example, he explains how even very dedicated Christians are still subject at times to attacks of doubt. But on the other side, he says, the atheist can never escape from the haunting worry that, after all, it might all be true. Ratzinger tells a story of a young Jewish atheist who, after proudly pressing his arguments against a number of Jewish faithful, goes to see a famous Rabbi. The Rabbi tells him (and I'm paraphrasing from memory here, because I don't have the text in front of me), "I won't try to refute all your clever arguments. But you know, it just might after all be true." This simple challenge is too much for the young man, who soon afterwards becomes a believer.

But if being a true atheist is hard, being a lazy and negligent believer is easy. "I feel like I made a sort of deal with God when I was a little girl," one of my Peace Corps friends told me cheerfully. "I'll always believe in him, but he won't rush me to make up my mind about churches and stuff." Unsurprisingly, she didn't seem to have bothered to go to any church for years, nor did she take dishonesty or sexual promiscuity to be particularly problematic. Wonder what sort of documentation she has on that contract.

When life is going well for you, it's relatively easy to more or less forget about God, or to remember him only long enough to tell yourself what you want to hear ("God's a pretty nice guy... I'm sure he likes me just the way I am.") It's difficult to cut through that kind of poisonous complacency. Sometimes intense suffering is the only scalpel sharp enough to do it. Sometimes even that isn't enough.

It should be said that academic philosophers aren't necessarily all that honest in their views. Vanity and desire for professional advancement tend to play a big role in their deciding what they think about the world. But I sometimes think the world might be helped by having more honest-to-goodness atheists out there, arguing their position with force and even with vitriol (think Christopher Hitchens.) When people are forced to defend their belief in God against serious opposition, they may start to take heaven, hell, theism and atheism, damnation and salvation a little more seriously. But the bottom line is, one way or another, we've got to get Americans feeling less good about themselves.

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Conversations with God

2006-12-30T16:58:00.000-05:00

In the December issue of First Things, I found this fascinating little tidbit:

"Look at those thousands of people passing by on Fifth Avenue. What are they thinking about? A new nationwide survey by Beliefnet suggests that many of them may be praying, sort of. Although 6 to 8 percent of Americans say they do not believe in God, 97.5 percent say they talk to God, and 77.6 percent say they do so every day. And 72.8 percent say they talk to God 'through prayer' and 80.6 percent say 'through my internal thoughts' (13.5 percent write letters to God.) Not only that, 57.9 percent say they have argued with God, and 49.3 percent say God argues back. 'Does God talk to you?' Yes, with words, say 35.8 percent, and yes, without words, say 56.1 percent. God speaks and they hear a voice (23.8), God speaks through answering prayer (55.4), through dreams (43.5), through Scripture or worship (43.3), through other people (61.5), and, at the top, through an internal voice or conscience (75.7). Where do people find God 'most accessible?' In daily life (42.3), in nature (9.6), in meditation (15), and, at bottom, in church or other house of worship (2.5).

Fr. Neuhaus observes that these findings are roughly in keeping with other similar surveys done over the years, and goes on to note as well that 1) Americans tend to see themselves as spiritual lone rangers, 2) they are generally quite egalitarian in their spirituality, with 80% believing that all people have equal access to the divine, and 3) that they tend to be pretty confident of being on good terms with the Almighty. All of these points warrant further consideration, and perhaps I will post another thread addressing some other point. What I find most immediately striking, though, is the suggestion that so many Americans talk to a God in whom they do not believe. I can see how it might be possible for someone to be too faintheated to become a true follower, while at the same time, in moments of weakness, allowing themselves to break down and petition a higher power for help. This might reasonably explain things for the occasional tortured soul, but can 4 to 6 percent of all Americans be like this? That is puzzling to say the least.

Of course, as Neuhaus himself points out, you can't make too much of surveys in analyzing something so complicated and delicate as the relationship between people and the divine. Maybe what these atheists mean is that, even though they don't really believe, they still consent to mumble a sham of a prayer at Thanksgiving just to please their grandmothers. Still, it is a curious thing to consider. Even the unbeliever may at times address his Creator, and at least in this country, may not be ashamed to admit it.
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Better a pig than Antipater!

2006-12-28T10:59:00.000-05:00

A glance at the Lion and Cardinal and then at the Catholic Encyclopaedia informed me of a tradition in connection with the Holy Innocents of which I had not been aware. Peter Abelard, logician, philosopher, and perhaps most famously one of those qui facti sunt ab hominibus (to use the words of Matthew 19:12), in a hymn in honor of the Innocents, wrote the following verses:

Ad mandatum regis datum generale
nec ipsius infans tutus est a caede.
Ad Augustum hoc delatum risum movit,
et rex mitis de immiti digne lusit:
malum, inquit, est Herodis esse natum.
prodest magis talis regis esse porcum.

The Catholic Encyclopaedia explains: "Macrobius (Saturn., IV, xiv, de Augusto et jocis ejus) relates that when Augustus heard that amongst the boys of two years and under Herod's own son also had been massacred, he said: 'It is better to be Herod's hog [ous], than his son [houios],' alluding to the Jewish law of not eating, and consequently not killing, swine. The Middle Ages gave faith to this story . . ." The last phrase indicates to me that the Catholic Encyclopaedia doesn't give faith to this story, which lack of faith in them I would think impious, but I suppose I should let them off given what follows: "But this 'infant' mentioned by Macrobius, is Antipater, the adult son of Herod, who, by command of the dying king, was decapitated for having conspired against the life of his father."

The verses mean something like this: "In regard to the general command of the king, not even the king's own child is safe from the slaughter. This news moved Augustus to laughter and the gentle king worthily sported about the ungentle: Unhappy the son of Herod! Better to be the pig of such a king!"

Notice that the lines are in rhymed couplets, rhyme not having been used classically in Latin poetry, but increasingly in the medieval period.

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Merry Christmas!

2006-12-25T18:27:00.000-05:00

Puer natus est nobis, et filius datus est nobis, cujus imperium super humerum ejus et vocabitur nomen ejus, magni consilii Angelus.

Ero Cras!

2006-12-23T12:04:00.000-05:00

Last year, it was pointed out on this blog that there is a mini-season of Advent called Sapientiatide (analogous to Passiontide at the end of Lent) that runs from Dec. 17-23. "Sapientia" is Latin for "wisdom," so "Wisdomtide" would be the English translation. At Vespers on those nights, the Church prays the "Great O Antiphons." In order, these begin with the words:

O Sapientia (hence the name of the season)
O Adonai
O Radix Jesse
O Clavis David
O Oriens
O Rex Gentium
O Emmanuel

You may remember these titles of Our Lord from the English hymn, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." Well, the initial letters of these titles create a backwards acrostic: ERO CRAS. That's Latin for "I'll be tomorrow," or, more loosely, "I'll arrive tomorrow." Of course, the night after the 23rd is the Vespers of Christmas Eve, so the "speaker" of the acrostic is Christ, the Incarnate Wisdom of the Father. It's as though Christ, after being addressed in the antiphons by those seven titles over the past week, is answering the prayer Himself. So the folks who arranged the prayers for Sapientiatide must have been pretty "wise" themselves!

For some edifying reading on Divine Wisdom, that which the Three Wise Men came from the East seeking (see painting above), see St. Louis de Montfort's work here at EWTN.

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Quiet at Christmas

2006-12-23T11:17:00.000-05:00

Things have been quiet here of late, and so I thought I'd let our readers know that we'll probably not return to posting regularly till after Christmas -- sporadically during the twelve days, but full-time starting after Epiphany.

May this holy season of our Lord's birth be filled with grace for you all. And please be sure to continue to pray for my ("the president's") special intention.

Catholic guilt

2006-12-18T15:07:00.000-05:00

One of the interesting things about becoming a Catholic is that other people stop telling you why they’re not one anymore.

It used to happen to me all the time. Like Nick Carraway of The Great Gatsby I’ve always been someone to whom (don’t ask me why) people seem to like to divulge their inner thoughts and dirty secrets. People I’d just met, say on a plane or at a party, would discover that 1) I went to Notre Dame for college, and 2) I wasn’t a Catholic, and immediately open up with, “You know, I was raised Catholic, but…” and I’d get the whole story. Some had personal bad experiences to relate (an unfriendly priest, an unfriendly parish, or an overly pushy grandmother who had dragged them to Mass by the ear.) Lots had beefs with the Church’s stance on one thing or another; homosexuality and divorce seem to be the biggest ones. Then there was always the poisonous, “You know, it’s really not a modern Church!”

I used to laugh that it was my special vocation to be an undercover missionary. I’d make some sympathetic noises, but then try diplomatically to explain that there really was a good reason for this or that teaching, and why, after all, should we want so much for a Church to be “modern”? I hope I did somebody some good over the course of those years. My own understanding of some principles wasn’t perfect, but certainly it was a great advantage in such a situation not to actually be Catholic, since it made me seem innocuous and made my defenses appear impartial and pleasingly respectful rather than defensive and over-zealous (as people probably sometimes think of me now). Anyhow, one thing I learned from all these encounters: there are a lot of guilt-ridden apostate Catholics out there.

A paradigm case could be seen in a girl I knew when I was in the Peace Corps. This young woman had been raised in, from the sound of things, an intensely Catholic family. It must have broken her parents’ hearts when she flamed out in adolescence and exchanged her Catholicism for post-modern philosophy, contemporary literature (“I never read anything written more than a hundred years ago,” she told me) and fornication (she barely knew the first man she slept with, “But I wanted the experience so I could write about it.”) She complained loudly and often about the Church, the absurdity of its doctrines, the foolishness of its anachronistic customs, its flagrant sexism, and so forth. She did this especially often to me, although by this time all my site mates knew that I was up to my eyeballs in Catholic books and seriously contemplating swimming the Tiber. In that same mild-mannered way, I would respond to her complaints with the beginnings of a defense. At that point she would usually cringe, shake her head, and end the conversation with some version of, “I can’t talk about this; these memories are all just too painful.”

That much guilt really must have been painful.

As with so many things, the American public can’t seem to make up its mind which stick to use in attacking the Church. One line says that Catholics browbeat their members and keep the congregation in line by suffusing them with guilt. The other goes something like this: those Catholics don’t really need to behave well, because they know that they can just go to confession and be forgiven of anything! So, we’ve got either too much or too little guilt, but however much it is, it certainly isn’t the right amount.

Now that I’m actually inside the Church, people (unsurprisingly) don’t tell me anymore about their leaving it, and I often find myself inclining towards the “too little” view (though obviously I don’t blame this on confession). Sometimes, in fact, it starts to seem to me that Catholics feel less guilt than almost any other religious group out there. But whenever I start thinking that, I call to memory all those lapsed Catholics with chips on their shoulders, eager to justify to some stranger on a bus why they don’t go to Mass anymore. There are lots of exception cases, of course, but I think it may actually be true that a Catholic upbringing, even a lukewarm Novus one, can leave a deeper mark on the conscience than a Protestant upbringing would typically do.

The popular explanation for this would of course be that Catholic children are told of their badness so often and so scathingly that the scars remain even once the yoke has been cast aside. Anyone who has ever been to a Novus Mass will see how utterly laughable this theory is, but you can see why it would be pleasing to some to cast the Church in the role of an abusive parent. If we want the real truth, though, I think perhaps we should meditate on that well-documented fact that sin and guilt become ever heavier when we try to lightly brush them aside.

For those who have never really believed in sin, this heaviness probably manifests itself in ways that are psychologically complex. For Protestants, I think (speaking of course in broad and generalized terms) guiltiness tends to be taken “as a whole” so that it’s either staggeringly heavy or else dismissed entirely. We can see a bizarre sort of manifestation of this in some of the more ecstatic Protestant groups, who vacillate between declaring confidently that they are saved and justified, and lamenting in strong and colorful terms the depths of their shamefulness. Like people with manic depression, they go between bewailing their hideous vileness and trumpeting that their names are already written in the celestial book. Some Protestants are less melodramatic about this than others, but to some degree the attitude does seem the rightful heritage of the heirs of Luther and his insistence that salvation comes through grace alone. A forgiveness that comes in a swift, blanket measure has as its natural earthly counterpart a guilt that hangs over us as a brooding, massive presence.

Catholicism doesn’t lend itself so well to the overblown “sinful me” antics. If you really are so sinful, then of course you should be in line at the confessional, and there’s something about actually tallying up your miserable, pathetic sins and whispering them to someone through a screen that cuts through any affectations you might want to put on about them. I sometimes feel that it would be easier and less humiliating to confess if only I could spice my confessions up with some Big Bad sins. I’m sure that’s not really true, but as with T.S. Eliot’s hollow men, there’s something very disheartening about feeling that even your sins show you to be someone merely petty and mediocre. I expect, though, that this is a healthy feeling to instill. Only in the fervor of a particularly rousing sort of ecstatic experience would I have a chance of persuading myself that I’m the blackest soul on my block. The worry would evaporate as soon as I stepped out of the church. But petty and mediocre? Oh, that shoe fits just too uncomfortably well. Better keep praying my rosary, and going back for more confessions.

Something about doing this on a regular basis can lead you, not to complacency, but more to the kind of rueful regret that St. Paul expressed when he talked about the thorn in his side that God would not remove for him because “my grace is enough for you.” We are caught in that paradox between wanting badly to be better and at the same time resigning ourselves to dragging these concupiscent bodies around for as long as God deems it a good thing. This is the sort of resignation that inspires jokes about stepping into the confessional and saying, “The usual, Father!” and it’s exactly the right place for us to be: neither paralyzed with guilt and fear, nor breezily confident in our salvation. There’s no reason to despair because the confessional will always be there. But there’s also no chance to ladle balm on our consciences with a massive group lament and subsequent reassurance that we’re already quite safe just as long as we’ve accepted Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. Instead, in unglamorous fashion, we apologize for whatever we’ve done, throw some holy water on ourselves, and go back out and keep trying.

I suspect apostate Protestants can normally find other avenues for getting the sort of reassurance they’ve learned to expect. For one thing, there are a thousand flavors of Protestantism, so it’s easy to reject the church you don’t like in favor of one with a better pastor, better organist, better food court, or whatever it is you’re looking for. It wouldn’t be clear that the old church could do anything about your sins that the new one couldn’t do, so there would be no reason to carry around lingering feelings of guilt after the switch. Even those who leave Christianity entirely can often find other sources of catharsis that are sufficiently similar to what they left behind to keep them going. For the Catholic, it isn’t so easy. On some level they know that having one’s sins forgiven isn’t about feelings; it involves a concrete action, like getting your teeth cleaned. And in fact, that might not be such a bad analogy. In countries where poor dental hygiene is more or less standard, people aren’t too bothered if they can’t afford toothpaste for awhile. (I have lived in countries like this.) But a regular tooth brusher can barely stand the feeling of griminess if you take away his toothbrush for a day. Most lapsed Catholics probably didn’t go through periods of life in which they confessed weekly or even monthly, but they do still have that lingering sense that they’ve been accumulating sins for a long time without being able to do much about it.

A bad conscience is hard to endure. Even a good conscience, for a Catholic, probably isn’t sublimely pleasurable, but then, sin just isn’t all that glamorous when it comes down to it. Such grace as God chooses to give must be enough for us. I think, though, that we should take this continued talk about Catholic guilt as a hopeful sign. The legions of lapsed Catholics may sometimes appear to be hopelessly beyond recall, but if they toil too long with so much unrelieved guilt, perhaps some will eventually decide to come back in for a cleaning.

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A Mishap

2006-12-17T15:14:00.000-05:00

This is just to let our readers know that we had a little mishap last week with regards to guest comments. It seems that someone (okay... it was me, of course) accidentally turned on the "moderate comments" feature while attempting to do something else. This made it impossible for visitors to post comments to any of the threads. You'd think we would have noticed this before yesterday, (and I did muse a couple of times over the last week, "Hmmm, wonder why we aren't getting much blog discussion. Maybe everyone's doing their Christmas shopping?") but it's finals week here at Cornell and things have been a bit hectic. And everyone is doing their Christmas shopping.

The problem is fixed now, and as I'm the only person here foolish enough to make this mistake even once, I think it's a good bet it will never happen again. But we profusely apologize to any and all readers whose comments never saw the light of day! You'd think we would have gotten them somehow, wouldn't you? But we've never tried to moderate our comments before, and we can't figure out now where they all went. Anyway, I'm very, very sorry, because there's nothing I hate more than typing out a comment and having it get lost somehow. If this happened to you, at least you should know that nobody was deliberately censoring you! If there's anything you really wanted to say on any of the existing threads, it will work now, but we (or I, at least) will also try to stir things back to life with some fresh posts over the next few days.

Novena

2006-12-14T23:43:00.000-05:00

Please pray this novena with us, which started yesterday, Dec. 13th, and will go through Dec. 21st, for the President's special intention. Please offer your prayers even if you have not joined us from the beginning!

Prayer to St. Joseph

Oh, St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God. I place in you all my interests and desires. O St. Joseph, do assist me by your powerful intercession, and obtain for me from your divine Son all spiritual blessings, through Jesus Christ our Lord, so that, having engaged here below your heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most loving of Fathers. O St. Joseph, I never weary of contemplating you, and Jesus asleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in my name and kiss His fine head for me and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for me.

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The Miraculous Virgin Birth

2006-12-12T04:47:00.000-05:00

I've been reading a little bit about the Virgin Birth, in light of the discussions provoked recently by the new Nativity movie. I have not seen the movie yet, but I have for a long time been interested in questions concerning the Virgin Birth, and so this new flash of interest in the topic intrigued me. The question I have been pondering concerns the degree to which Our Lord was miraculously born.

There is a long and formidable tradition of people who say that he was not born in the natural way. The early Fathers seem mostly to have been of the opinion that the birth of Christ was miraculous, not only for the fact that it happened, but also in the way that it happened; not only was his birth was painless, but it also happened through some supernatural means not described in the Gospel. In an entry on the Virgin Birth, Catholic Encyclopedia suggests, "that the supernatural influence of the Holy Ghost extended to the birth of Jesus Christ, not merely preserving Mary's integrity, but also causing Christ's birth or external generation to reflect his eternal birth from the Father in this, that "the Light from Light" proceeded from his mother's womb as a light shed on the world; that the "power of the Most High" passed through the barriers of nature without injuring them; that "the body of the Word" formed by the Holy Ghost penetrated another body after the manner of spirits." I believe the Council of Trent made a similar suggestion.

As I understand it, all of these arguments stem from the dogma of Our Lady's perpetual virginity. If a vaginal birth would render her non-virginal, then obviously, Our Lord could not have been born in that way. However, the Church has not, so far as I know, ever defined virginity per se, and we might be inclined to quibble with the definition that would have seemed most natural to the early Fathers. It has been medically documented that a woman can be born without a hymen, or, alternatively, that it can be broken through strenuous activity of various kinds. I suspect most of us would be disinclined to say that a woman born without a hymen was never at any time virginal. (And indeed, if we did say that, it would have rather interesting implications for the teaching so treasured by Iosephus, that all are in some way called to a life of virginity for God's sake.) Most of us are probably more inclined to define virgin as one who has not engaged in the marital act. But if that is our understanding, then it seems we might be we might also have to reject the argument that probably formed the basis for most of the early Fathers' views about Our Lord's supernatural birth.

When it comes to the painlessness of the birth, other arguments come into play. Since the pains of childbirth were a punishment for original sin, it has been said that Our Lady, cleansed as she was from original sin, must also have been exempt from the normal pains that accompany childbirth. In addition, Isaiah 66:7 can be cited as a prophecy of the manner of Our Lord's birth: "Before she travailed, she brought forth; before her pain came, she was delivered of a man child." It is not unreasonable to suppose that this is a prophecy relating to the birth of Jesus Christ and that that birth was therefore literally painless.

I confess that I have nothing much to say about the Isaiah passage except that I can almost never make much of what Isaiah says. Anyway, his meaning in the passage as a whole is certainly less than crystal clear. As regards the argument from original sin, it certainly seems right to say that Our Lady did not deserve the pains of childbirth, as other women, in some mysterious sense, perhaps do. Timothy tells us that women are redeemed through childbearing; obviously Our Lady needed no such redemption. But that would not by itself imply that she felt no pain, only that pain was not necessary for this reason. We Catholics tend to think that the other "wages" of original sin -- that there should be enmity between the woman and the serpent -- did apply to the Blessed Mother. I think we should remember, too, that she suffered a great many things that she didn't deserve, as did Our Lord, for our sakes. I can't see that this particular pain would be more unjust than any of the other pains she had to bear. Our Lord was willing to suffer agonies he did not deserve in order that we might be redeemed, and a terrible event thus becomes at the same time wonderful (perhaps "awful" captures both meanings nicely.) Similarly, might Our Lady not have been willing to bear pains she did not deserve, in order that Our Lord might truly be said to be born of woman, not in some strange, ethereal sense, but in the perfectly ordinary sense of that term? There seem, in fact, to be very delightful parallels here between the New Adam and the New Eve, if indeed Our Lady travailed like other women in birth. Her Son would let the full force of the punishment for man's original sin fall upon his innocent head, and thereby would vanquish it. But she, in a smaller way, might have innocently suffered the pain that Eve's error brought upon womankind, and in so doing, she gave her people the child who could erase that error for good.

Now, I have already conceded that the weight of tradition is against the supposition that Our Lord might have been born vaginally, though as I have said, I do not think this can be considered de fide so long as there is ambiguity about what perpetual virginity would imply. But I must admit also that for me, the Christmas story goes rather flat if Our Lord was really born in some painless twinkling of light or ghostly passing through matter. Such a delivery might be amazingly wonderful, but only in some way that ordinary people cannot understand at all. The poignancy of the story comes chiefly from the mysterious and intimate infusion of the divine into a scene that is very recognizably human: a couple having a child. But pain and effort are quite obviously integral elements of that experience as we understand it.

The beautiful narration of St. Luke loses much of its power if the physical facts of childbearing as we know it are all subtracted from the equation. Consider, for example, the question of location. We are told that the child was laid in a manger because there was "no room for them in the inn." Tradition holds that the divine child was born in a stable (though in the Holy Land they suppose that it was a cave) and we feel intense compassion for this couple, forced to bear their child in a barn! Surely at least a roof could have been afforded to the blessed lady, so that she might have decent shelter in her difficult task? But if the birth is supposed to be entirely unlike a natural birth, it suddenly becomes hard to get much imaginative grip on the situation. We feel scarcely more identification with the child-bearing Mary and Joseph than we would if the couple had been asked to open a portal to an alter-universe and receive the blessed child from there. What would be the most appropriate place for such an event? I just don't know at all; for a natural birth, it is best to find a private and comfortable place where the mother's physical needs can best be attended to. But for a miraculous twinkle-of-light separation of bodies, I really have no intuitions about appropriate places. A barn does seem an awfully lowly place for the Son of God to make his first appearance, but if a mountaintop, an olive grove, or a synagogue had been suggested as more suitable than a room in an inn, this would have seemed perfectly plausible to me. Identification and compassion morph into uncomprehension and strangeness when the central physical event is changed into something so alien.

And what does it mean, either in the Isaiah passage (if that does refer to the Virgin Birth) or, more importantly, in Luke, to suggest that she "brought forth" the child? The Catholic Encyclopedia quote makes the child himself into the active agent; the body through which he passes seems purely passive. But that is not how Scripture tells it. She brought forth her son, just as a laboring mother brings forth a child. It is possible, of course, that Our Lord might have been miraculously born, while Our Lady somehow actively participated in the miracle. But this idea, surely, draws our minds far into bizarre imaginings. One almost begins to feel that the text is misleading, if it truly describes something so unique and unfamiliar with language we immediately understand in a very different way. Why, if something so extraordinary happened, did the Evangelist decline to describe it at all? Though not by any means conclusive, Luke's words seem to me to imply all that would normally be implied when we say that a woman brings forth a child.

In the end, I don't think we have any grounds to be very sure of exactly the manner in which Our Lord was born, and a healthy humility will encourage us to admit our ignorance. Possibly it is unhealthy to think too much about it, and yet, as I have tried to show, I think it does very naturally matter to us whether the means by which God came into the world resemble the familiar human event of birth. For centuries, laboring women have cried to the Blessed Virgin for aid, comforted by the belief that she knows, from her own experience, their pains. This is a fully Catholic way to think; we are often encouraged to plead for the intercession of one whose earthly experience would enable him specifically to sympathize with our troubles. But if Our Lord was supernaturally and painlessly born, the laboring mother might do better to direct her pleas to St. Anne or St. Elizabeth or others. Our Lady has no more firsthand experience with her plight than does St. Joseph or St. Peter. This seems to me like a real loss, considering that she is in some sense most fully and truly a Mother.

I understand the reasons why the early Fathers or the Schoolmen might have insisted on the miraculous birth of the divine child, but when I read the tracts of those contemporary Catholics who get particularly incensed about it today, I am suspicious. What really infuriates some, I think, is the sense of indignity that they attach to ordinary childbirth; they do not like to imagine the Queen of Heaven in such a position. One has the suspicion that they would be similarly upset by the image of the Blessed Mother changing diapers or scrubbing dirty pots. This is understandable, but reminds me too much of the reaction Muslims tend to have towards our accounts of the Passion and the death of Our Lord. It is difficult to explain to them that this is the deep and awful mystery of Christianity: a God became man, and passed of his own will through the greatest indignities imaginable, and through is passing left a bridge from those depths back to a life of holiness. Presumably something similar, on a smaller scale, could be said of his mother. She was willing to suffer ordinary pains and indignities. That's what so wonderful and awe-inspiring about the whole idea of God With Us. And of course, it is precisely her willingness to endure all things humbly and patiently, that makes her now so perfectly suited to be our Regina Coeli.

I humbly submit all my reflections to the correction of authorities higher than myself (and of course, I have no authority of any kind, over anyone.) But until it is shown to me that I am straying into heresy, my Christmas meditations will be made sweeter and more poignant by imagining the Holy Family on Christmas night, welcoming the Son of God through a process at least somewhat similar to that by which the rest of the children of men come to dwell on Earth.

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Papal Photographer

2006-12-11T16:16:00.000-05:00

These folks sold Catherina S. and me pictures when we met the Pope this summer. They have a fun, if somewhat frustrating, website containing many many recent and old papal photos. It's worth a browse.

Apostle to the Which?

2006-12-10T20:02:00.000-05:00

I got my kicks for today from a story I found through a link from the "Ephemeris" column of our own blog. The story was from the news section of Catholic Online, and it was about recent archaeological discoveries that seem to confirm that the traditional burial place of St. Paul is in fact his tomb. It was an interesting little piece, but it concluded with the following helpful lines:

"Paul was a Roman Jew, born in Tarsus, in modern-day Turkey, who started out trying to fight Christianity but later converted after seeing a shining light on the road to Damascus.

The saint, who called himself the apostle to the Gentiles, was a great traveler and writer. His 14 letters, which form part of the New Testament, are largely written to churches that he had founded or visited."

Now, was it really necessary to explain that to the readers of Catholic Online? Heaven help us!

It got me thinking about that age-old criticism of Roman Catholics: that they never read the Bible. (We may have touched on this issue here at some point, though I can't quite recall.) I have to say that, in my experience, this stereotype is mostly true. When I was a catechumen, my catechist was under the impression that Mormons did not permit their laity to read the Bible. He quickly acknowledged that this was obviously not the case; though not by any means a Biblical scholar, I was forced to listen to a Biblical passage read by my father daily throughout childhood, and at some point I voluntarily took up a daily reading regimen. I can't compete with a dedicated Evangelical, but I know who Cain and Abel were and what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah, and I can recognize a reference to the "lilies of the field." That's a lot more -- a LOT more -- than most of my Catholic friends could say at Notre Dame. When I first arrived, I was literally appalled at their complete lack of Biblical knowledge. A friend of mine in one of my classes was a lover of theater and musicals. When we were assigned to read the Gospel of Matthew for the class, she read it and came back glowing. "How wonderful!" she said. "It's just like Godspell! She had been a Massgoing Catholic for all of her 18 years.

Today, when anti-Catholic folk ask me why Protestants know the Bible so much better than Catholics, I usually retort, "Because that's all they've got." And I really think this is partly true. To be honest, I myself have become much worse in my reading of the Bible since becoming a Catholic, and part of it is just that I suddenly so much other important reading, from papal encyclicals to hagiography to the spiritual writings of the mystics. When this is all part of your heritage, you don't have as much time to focus on just the Bible, and unlike Protestants, Catholics are not obsessed with linking themselves as directly as possible with the early Church, as if the centuries in between never happened.

Still. It really is a problem. How can we come to know Our Lord better if we don't read the Gospels that most directly tell of him? It's good to have readings in Mass, but this is not even remotely adequate for making us Biblically literate. The passages are very short, and if you get all your knowledge of the Bible that way, you won't have a very good sense for how the whole story fits together. Sometimes it's healthy just to read all the way through a particular book to get the thread of the narrative. Matthew is particularly nice that way, I always think, and I try to do a read-through every year on Holy Saturday, from the first page to the last. And of course, it's good to know the Old Testament and the Epistles too. There will be very serious deficiencies in the understanding of any Christian who doesn't know his Bible.

Ignorance of the Bible also prevents us from evangelizing effectively. Biblical knowledge is something many Protestants respect. We Catholics should have a distinct advantage in this field -- after all, we have Holy Mother Church interpreting the passages correctly for us! -- but in actual conversations, they clearly have the edge. Shame on us.

I think the bottom line is that ordinary rank-and-file Catholics should be encouraged to read the Bible. In the early centuries of the Church, I know, there was controversy as to whether laypeople should be allowed to read the Bible (as Tertullian said, "all heresies come from Scripture") when they could be instead be taught the important moral truths that wiser teachers and shepherds had gleaned from it. I think in this age, though, that corrupting people through the Bible is the least of our worries. If, God willing, the Doctor and I one day have a family, I would like to continue my parents' practice of reading a passage together daily, perhaps at the same time as family Rosary. That's my hope. But for the most part, I don't think Catholics are even particularly concerned about their ignorance of the Bible. I have never heard any priest encourage his Mass-attending faithful to read it regularly. Doesn't this seem like a shame?

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Pray for us who have recourse to thee

2006-12-08T10:05:00.000-05:00

My favorite personal story in connection with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception happened during my first year at Cornell. I had just finished a year at Oxford of Hebrew and Jewish studies, and I was eager to keep up my knowledge of Biblical Hebrew. So I was sitting in on a class in the Near Eastern Studies department - one isn't allowed do theology at Cornell, certainly not to have a department with that name - a class which was basically a glorified reading group for selected Old Testament texts. There was one graduate student, not Jewish, and the rest were very much undergraduates and very much Jewish. (Keep in mind that at Cornell, out of every three undergraduate students, one is a well to do WASPy person, the other a Corean, and the third a Jew. And the latter two both come from the greater NYC area.)

I can't remember exactly what the context was, but it must have been something to do with the development of Hebrew theological thought as seen through the different eras in which the Old Testament texts were written. (Warning: when going into such a class or course of studies, it is very, very difficult to avoid referring to the Old Testament by that name; the preferred nomenclature is the "Hebrew Scriptures", which can avoid offending both Jew and Christian, I think.)

The professor knew that I was a Catholic - for some reason, I can't remember. (Maybe I had slipped and referred to it as the Old Testament one too many times!) And he asked me if I could give a similar example (to whatever we'd been talking about) in the Christian tradition. The example being of a belief which had been around for a long time, but hadn't be codified or set in stone until a rather late date. Right away, I said "the Dogma of the Immaculate Conception", which wasn't solemnly defined until the reign of Pius IX during the 19th century but had long been held, I guess, as a sententia certa.

The professor seemed to take this example in stride (he was also Jewish), but the undergraduates were flabbergasted! The Immaculate Conception only became an official, set-in-stone belief in the 19th century?! They just couldn't belief it.

Unfortunately, I was too slow on the ball to relieve them in regard to the cause of their stupefaction. For like many people, they were under the impression that the "Immaculate Conception" refers to the conception of Our Lord in the womb of the Blessed Virgin by the Holy Ghost. So albeit unwittingly, I'm afraid that I put some further stumbling block in the way of my Jewish brethren when, with great seriousness of mien and a knowledgeable air, I affirmed that only since the 19th century was the Immaculate Conception a de fide proposition.

When we do our next round of apologies to the Jews, I'll have my own minus peccatum to add to the list.

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Feast of the Immaculate Conception

2006-12-08T09:32:00.000-05:00

Declaramus, pronuntiamus et definimus doctrinam quae tenet beatissimam Virginem Mariam in primo instanti suae conceptionis fuisse singulari Omnipotentis Dei gratia et privilegio, intuitu meritorum Christi Jesu Salvatoris humani generis, ab omni originalis culpae labe praeservatam immunem, esse a Deo revelatam, atque idcirco ab omnibus fidelibus firmiter constanterque credendam. Ineffabilis Deus Pp. Pius IX.

We declare, pronounce, and define that the doctrine which holds that the most Blessed Virgin Mary, in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin, is a doctrine revealed by God and therefore to be believed firmly and constantly by all the faithful
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Providence TLM with Bishop!

2006-12-08T08:50:00.000-05:00

A reader writes in that a special traditional Latin Mass will be said at the Church of the Holy Name of Jesus in Providence, Rhode Island at 11AM on December 17th, with Bishop Tobin, pictured here, presiding from his Throne and giving an indulgenced blessing therefrom. A potluck lunch and Advent concert will follow the Mass. Visitors are very welcome: if you are at all nearby, please help encourage this Bishop in his outreach to traditional Catholics! More details below.

The Church is located at 99 Camp Street in Providence, RI. The parish pastor reports that, though the Bishop will not be saying the Mass, this is chiefly because he has never yet learned it (he was ordained after 1969); presumably indicating that he would be willing to learn to celebrate the traditional Mass. All the more reason to turn out and encourage him!

Holy Name Church is located on the East Side of Providence at the corner of Camp and Pleasant Streets. From Rt. 95, take the Branch Avenue Exit. Proceed to North Main Street (bear right onto North Main at the fire station) and continue to Doyle Avenue. Turn left onto Doyle, then left onto Camp Street.
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St. Ambrose of Milan: Model Bishop

2006-12-07T09:56:00.000-05:00

As our dear readers have by now guessed, St. Ambrose is my chosen patron. Today is his Feast Day, which is what got me thinking about him and about the Bishops of today. These thoughts are by no means novel, but it is worth returning to them again and again.

St. Ambrose was Bishop of Milan in the 4th century, during the height of the Arian heresy; he famously was chosen bishop by an angry crowd of orthodox Catholic and Arians who could not decide who would be their next bishop: he spoke so well to calm them, that they spontaneously elected him, even though he was not yet baptized at the time! Anyway, here was St. Ambrose's postion: he was Bishop of a large and influential city (say, like Boston today in the US); the secular powers were heretics (the Empress of Constantinople was an Arian); and the faithful of his Diocese were sharply divided. Can you begin to see the parallels? The big difference between this "honey-tongued Doctor" and today's major Archbishops is that he was tough, tough like I think we don't even know how to describe these days. He was holed up in his Cathedral with several hundred faithful one night by imperial troops who were striving to make him bow to their power; he responded by refusing to bend, and spent the night teaching the faithful chant and hymns! Why can't our Bishops take him as their example, even a little?

Consider: what is keeping our Bishops from infuriating the world, hewing close to the Faith, and renewing the Church as Ambrose did? Nothing! They have all the same resources at their disposal as he did, and though we cannot of course expect every Bishop to be a Doctor of the Church, we can expect them to learn from their betters. Why aren't we holding our Bishops to a much, much higher standard? Why isn't the Vatican?

This is what I propose: that each Bishop first become fully Catholic, and learn to love his Faith more than he loves kind words from the local newspaper. This being accomplished, he needs to chop down his bureaucracy and actually take personal charge of much, much more. Yes, I know that this is virtually impossible. Get over it: that's his job. Every single soul in his diocese is his personal responsibilty. Recent history has proven that Bishops can't trust so-called experts, and so he needs to actually stop doing this. Be unpopular, really! We want you to be unpopular, your Excellencies! We want you to be hated and mocked by the world: if you are, then we will defend you with our lives, and support you with our wallets and our backs. I want my Bishop to ask me to do something I have no desire to do, and for me to have to do it because I love and respect him. Can you imagine? There is no reason why this can't be reality. Let's pray for it! And stop defending these dudes when they're indefensible: it is not charity to gloss over grave errors; neither is it kind to support the wicked. We as laymen can never do their job for them. The Bishops must radically take responsibility, and we must radically expect it of them, and be willing to sacrifice for them. I want my Bishop to fight the US government so hard on abortion that the National Guard has to lock me up in the Cathedral with him; for him to stand at the door of his cathedral and prevent publicly wicked "Catholic" politicians from entering, as St. Ambrose did with the Emperor Theodosius, who had slaughtered innocents (see painting above): don't you? I want him to be such a symbol of love and true charity that the New York Times will despise him. I want him to take the restoration of liturgy so seriously that he would himself spearhead the return to truly sacred music, even to the point of teaching it to us himself: Ambrose did so, and so can he. And only then, when the powers of the world quail at the power of Christ -- humble but unyielding; firm and fast -- will some in power, at least, come and kneel before our Lord in the person of the Bishop who has rebuked them, as St. Ambrose's unyielding stance eventually brought the very Emperor to his knees, repenting of his sins.

That's enough for now
Read more about St. Ambrose's life and work here and here
Finally, a sage observation from the good Doctor:

To avoid dissensions we should be ever on our guard, more especially with those who drive us to argue with them, with those who vex and irritate us, and who say things likely to excite us to anger. When we find ourselves in company with quarrelsome, eccentric individuals, people who openly and unblushingly say the most shocking things, difficult to put up with, we should take refuge in silence, and the wisest plan is not to reply to people whose behavior is so preposterous.
Those who insult us and treat us contumeliously are anxious for a spiteful and sarcastic reply: the silence we then affect disheartens them, and they cannot avoid showing their vexation; they do all they can to provoke us and to elicit a reply, but the best way to baffle them is to say nothing, refuse to argue with them, and to leave them to chew the cud of their hasty anger. This method of bringing down their pride disarms them, and shows them plainly that we slight and despise them.

And a photo of St. Ambrose's body, dressed in Episcopal splendor, buried between the Martyrs Sts. Gervase and Protase, in the Basilica built in his honor in the city of Milan.

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Belief in God

2006-12-06T11:46:00.000-05:00

Since we've been discussing what constitutes belief in God, as opposed to Faith in Him, I thought I should send folks back to an excellent post by Iosephus on this subject, from February. Please do give it a read.

The Best from Recent Rome

2006-12-06T08:16:00.000-05:00

It's one of those things that unites traditional Catholics: a sense of longing for those days in the past when the Popes and Bishops taught, not just with authority, but authoritatively; in those days when (it seemed) ecclesiastical mandates had real teeth; when Vatican Prelates spoke like prophets, not politicians.

I often feel that longing, too, but it's good to remember that not everything being said by Churchmen in these latter times is wussy watered down nonsense. Every once in a while a Vatican official, or even a Pope, catches the "big mo" momentum fever and tells it like it is. And so, I think it might be worthwhile to pull together a little collection of the best no-nonsense, strait talk out of Rome from the past couple of decades. I'll put a few of my favorites up; readers, please add your own faves in the comments!

Let's start with Iosephus' favorite, from the most Luminous of John Paul the Fair's apostolic letters, Ordinatio Sacerdotalis

Wherefore, in order that all doubt may be removed regarding a matter of great importance, a matter which pertains to the Church's divine constitution itself, in virtue of my ministry of confirming the brethren (cf. Lk 22:32) I declare that the Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women and that this judgment is to be definitively held by all the Church's faithful.

Meanwhile, some of the ones I like best come from the relatively little-known Observations on the English-language Translation of the Roman Missal issued by the Holy See to ICEL on their last attempt to translate the Roman Missal into English (pre-Liturgiam Authenticam)

. . .The Structure of the Collects: Relative clauses often disappear in the proposed text (especially the initial Deus, qui . . ., so important in the Latin Collects), so that a single oration is divided into two or more sentences. This loss is detrimental not only to the unity of the structure, but to the manner of conveying the proper sense of the posture before God of the Christian people, or of the individual Christian. The relative clause acknowledges God's greatness, while the independent clause strongly conveys the impression that one is explaining something about God to God. Yet it is precisely the acknowledgement of the mirabilia Dei that lies at the heart of all Judaeo-Christian euchology. The quality of supplication is also adversely affected so that many of the texts now appear to say to God rather abruptly: "You did a; now do b." The manner in which language expresses relationship to God cannot be regarded merely as a matter of style.. . .

. . ."Opening Song" does not translate "Cantus ad introitum" or "Antiphona ad introitum" as intended by the rites. The Latin is able to express the musical processional beginning of the Liturgy that accompanies the entrance of the priest and ministers, while "Opening Song" could just as well designate the beginning number of a secular musical performance.

The Congregation in the course of its various contacts and consultations has encountered widespread indeed, virtually unanimous-opposition to the institution of any change in the wording of the Lord's Prayer. More than one reader cited poignantly the experience of having seen this prayer coming to the lips of Christians who had otherwise appeared unconscious, its familiar wording having been learned by them from infancy. By contrast, the Mixed Commission's justification for its changes, in its Third Progress Report on the Revision of the Roman Missal, seem inadequate and somewhat cerebral. . .

. . .Certain texts included in the project, such as the seasonal introductions and the hagiographical notes in the Proper of Saints, by virtue of their genre as well as their bulk, should not be published within a liturgical book. At times, their very content militates against such an intention. For example, the statement that [St.] Jerome "began work on a new Latin translation of the Bible, known as the Vulgate", is historically inexact, since he selected and compiled existing texts of the Vetus Latina for many parts of the Bible, while his characterization as "irascible and intolerant" is hardly an appropriate appendage to the prayers prescribed for his liturgical Memorial. In the same vein, one might cite the inappropriateness of the reference to Santa Claus in commemorating St. Nicholas, or the unexplained statement that St. Callistus I "served a sentence as a convict", or the assertion that St. Pius V's "excommunication of Queen Elizabeth I of England hardened the split between Catholics and Protestants." While there is an admitted distinction between a liturgical and a hagiographical text, these are neither. The present Observations are not the context in which to address question of the veracity of these statements; it is sufficient to point out that that they are out of place in the Missal. . .

And, though not an official Vatican letter or anything, an
interview given by Fr. Robert Taft, SJ, of the Pontifical Oriental Institute concerning the possible erection of a Ukrainian Patriarchate is pure gold:

. . .It’s extremely difficult for the Orthodox to face up to their own reality. They don’t really understand the uses of history. For example, there are hundreds of thousands of Catholics today in Siberia. How come? Because the Russians dragged them there in cattle cars, that’s how come. Let’s say it the way it is. Furthermore, before the war, 20 percent of the population of Siberia was Catholic. Were there Catholics dioceses in Russia before the revolution wiped them out? Yes, there were. I mean real dioceses, not just fictitious apostolic administrations. Real dioceses. If there are Catholic bishops now in regions where there weren’t before the revolution, it’s for the reason I just gave – these people were dragged to those regions in cattle cars. The pope didn’t drag them there. Let’s say it the way it is. They’re incapable of facing reality. . .

. . .There seems to be a predictable pattern of crisis/reconciliation/crisis in Catholic-Orthodox relations. Are we doomed to keep repeating this cycle?
I think so. In part, because we live in a free world and nobody really controls all of their own people. If the Neocatechumenate crowd decides to show up in some Russian city and cause trouble, who’s going to put them under control? Part of the problem is that this papacy hasn’t controlled some of these new movements. Matter of fact, it encourages them. It’s not the Jesuits who are causing trouble in Russia. It’s not the Franciscans. Part of the problem too is that the Russians are always reacting not so much to what we do, as to how their own constituency reacts to whatever we do. Basically, there are three groups in the Russian hierarchy. You’ve got a real wacko kind of right-wing fringe. These are the ones who would agree with calling Rasputin a saint and that kind of garbage. Then you’ve got people like Kirill, who are open and ecumenical and intelligent, because he’s got an education. Then you’ve got kind of a middle group that’s very conservative but not frothing at the mouth. Kirill’s group is a very small minority. The patriarch is a juggler trying to keep all these balls in the air. . .

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Shameless Gossip Column

2006-12-04T21:56:00.000-05:00

A non-Catholic friend asked me the other day whether it is true that one of the Supreme Court justices (they mentioned a few obvious names, but weren't sure which one) was a member of Opus Dei. I immediately scoffed at the idea, but then reflected that I don't definitively know that they're not; after all, being a member of Opus Dei is not, as many seem to think, tantamount to joining the Men in Black and there's no reason why Alito, Scalia or Thomas shouldn't be members except that I probably would have heard about it already. The question "Is X really in Opus Dei" is put to me reasonably often, and generally speaking the answer is probably "no" but it prompted me to wonder: are there, in fact, any "famous" Catholics who are (or were, if they are deceased) members of Opus Dei? I mean by this anyone who is famous for some other reason than their help in founding or leading Opus Dei. I tried to do some web research on this question, but the slew of paranoid, crazed, virulently anti-Catholic sites that came up when I searched was so frightening that I had to quickly flee. If anyone has any more information, please, tell me so that I can answer these questions accurately in the future!

Oratorians Make Music!

2006-12-04T08:24:00.000-05:00

After all the weighty discussion of the past few days, a fun post seemed appropriate. Video of an Oratorian father singing a Slovakian folk song and more pictures below the break. This cabaret took place the Saturday before last, was to raise money for the parish's youth choir, and was billed as "not for children ... but not adult entertainment!"

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America's most famous Catholic author?

2006-12-02T10:03:00.000-05:00

Ernest Hemingway converted to Roman Catholicism at some point in his life, although the precise date is disputed. He certainly belonged to the Church when he married according to her rites in the 1920s. Here is a, well, rather lurid account of his reason for converting (warning: it verges on the immodest). Not the sort of stuff that Marcus Grodi would have on his show, but interesting nonetheless.

While Hemingway did not lead an exemplary life (whether in his personal morals or his political activities), according to the second article link, Catholicism was in fact an undercurrent in his work. He continued to do his Easter duty, at least, and he received a Catholic Requiem Mass since he was ruled to have been mentally deranged at the time of his suicide.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis
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Answering Dr. White: Muslims, God, and Electricity

2006-12-02T09:35:00.000-05:00

I have in mind a more complete critique of the approach taken by Prof. White, but I thought it would be well to respond particularly to a couple of his errors.

Muslims and God
The first regards the accusation of Heresy on the part of our Pope for claiming that Muslims worship the one true God. I simply fail to see this claim as heretical. At worst, it could be misleading; but to be heretical, it would have to be made stronger: stated as, "Christians worship Allah, the God of the Muslims." That would be a profound error. But with care, we can easily distinguish Benedict's claim from the erroneous one. We believe as Catholics that natural reason leads to the belief in God -- one, single Prime Mover. On a Catholic understanding of Faith, then, belief in God is a rational and philosophical belief: a pre-theological one, not requiring Faith, considered as a Virtue. Thus Muslims, like Christians and any monotheists, believe in the same one God. Muslims err in believing false revelation about God, and their worship and prayers are consequently malformed and evil. But presuming a good will and invincible ignorance among at least some of them, their worshipful acts, insofar as they are not particular to the erroneous aspects of the islamic creed, are directed towards the one and only God, whom even they recognize as the "God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob." The Divine response to these, at best, ill-formed prayers and actions must be considered in a balance of justice, compassion, and charity. They do not know the God to whom they pray, even though they think they do. But nonetheless, since God is One, it is to God that they direct their prayers.

Electricity
It may seem a minor point, but I think it vital to rebut such claims as Dr. White makes regarding the modern dependence upon Electricity in modern civilization and its putative connection to the Satanic. This sort of thinking must be rebuked and rejected. Certainly, dependence is a foundational fact about our technological civilization; but dependence is simply a fact of civilization itself. Once a man becomes a baker and another man a soldier and a third man a tool-maker, each has given up autonomy for specialization and reliance upon others. Electicity is not magic, but a natural, if much continued, extension of this same specialization necessary to civilization. God wrote the laws of electrodynamics that allow us, wonderfully, to turn the heat of burning coal or gas into electric currents; the same physical law, written by God, that gives us light itself compels the existence of electricity. It would have been equally true in an unfallen world as it is in our fallen world.

Indoor plumbing, garbage-collection, and grocery stores are in the same regime of human organization as the production of electricity is; in some way, we are more dependent on them, since God gives us light in the day without fail, but running water takes large-scale human agency to guarantee and the production of food enough for us requires long-term planning and stable farming conditions. So though I'd not call his a crackpot theory, his claim is a paranoid and shallow one, reflecting an incautious and unreflective stance towards the cooperation of grace, nature, and human cooperation.
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Particularity and Grace

2006-12-01T10:53:00.000-05:00

It is perhaps the first bit of wisdom I have gleaned from aging rather than from wit, reading, or conversation: that the particular paths of our life are not infinitely variable, and are instead closely guided and guarded by grace.

It's a common feeling in our day that, in the breadth of the span of human life, one should be able to "do it all:" that a complete life is one in which every taste has been had, every desired experience partaken of, every vista beheld. And while the obvious error of this approach to life is its deemphasis on obedience to God's designs for you, it also errs in its mistaken optimism regarding the infinite opportunities that life supposedly offers. There are many opportunities, sure to say, but in choosing one thing rather than another at each point we sequentially close off the many opportunities might have been in the taking of those proffered. This is a truism that should be embraced; for though to many it may seem a sad fact of limitation, it is actually a quite freeing realization.

What occasioned this more abstract discussion was a thought about music. The functionally infinite variety of music that has been composed and produced is an amazing fact. For professionals, it is a trove to be explored as widely as possible. But for most of us, the exposure we will have to the great and good works of musical art are limited by time and opportunity. Even with the ready availability of recordings of such music, we will buy and listen to this album, rather than another, on the basis of an unfathomable stream of contingencies: who we know, where we go, what is being played by our local symphony the Sunday we happen to attend.

For we who are also amateur musicians, this should occasion a secondary consideration. What a humbling and, to this musician of modest ability, almost frightening thought: that we should be the instrument, or the player, who should render a piece of great music for other people who may only hear it that one time. It is possible that, of a Sunday, the rendition of the Salve, Regina that our modest Schola sings will be the only time a visitor in the congregation will ever hear that marvelous text, or the particular chant mode in which we sing it that day. Or again, consider the organist a-practicing, alone in a grand or modest Church, when a penitent or confused modern stumbles along. His practice-time, studdering attempts to bring to life a Bach Chorale may be the backdrop that pushes the wary young man deciding whether he should kneel, giving himself over grace; or he could drive him away, never to return. Even the simple fact that that same music, the great performances of which stir my soul even in memory, maybe be rendered to another through my humble artistry is stunning.

Yet it ought not to discourage us, but to call us forward to greater trust in grace and providence. As sad as it would be to think that mine should be the only voice a particular man should hear render a great Marian or Eucharistic hymn, far sadder is the thought that the same man might pass all his years in this vale of tears without ever having the chance to hear even a poor offering of that divine music.

And returning to the abstraction in which I began, recognition of this particularity of performance should inform all of our lives. God asks that we give every moment of every day to Him, living and loving as He does. For if we may be the only instrument of mere music to reach some soul, how much more urgent that we should seize each opportunity to show Christ to the same person who fleets across our path. Let us strive to keep this thought ever before us in our prayers and our lives, so that we may each day be instruments of God's grace.
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Not One of the Cool Kids

2006-12-01T10:41:00.000-05:00

First off, I can't quite make sense of David Allen White's reaction to Pope Benedict's Regensburg address and the aftermath. While I agree with White that Benedict may well have been surprised by the reaction to his remarks - it doesn't seem Benedict's character deliberately to incite riots around the world - I don't agree that Benedict's remarks were thereby "foolhardy." Though Benedict didn't anticipate the reaction of the Muslim world, he spoke the truth nonetheless.

Certainly as a traditionalist Catholic, I was cheering the way in which the quotation from the Byzantine emperor stuck it straight to the Mohammedans. Then, the worldwide reaction only confirmed what the emperor had said (quoted by Benedict). What a great object lesson! "See, children, if we say these few words in an obscure speech (aside: the rest of which the raving street Muslims are too ignorant to understand), they'll have this HUGE reaction!" And lo and behold, this is what we saw.

I said "as a traditionalist Catholic" because here was an example of someone from the Vatican - anyone - calling a spade a spade. I agree with White that the language of obfuscation, lack of clarity, and unwillingness to define things precisely is characteristic of the post-Conciliar period. This often soft and imprecise language is used, it seems, in deference to politcal correctness and an unwillingness to risk offending certain groups or sensibilities. So when the Pope finally lets someone have it - in this case, the Mohammedans - why would a traditionalist complain, as though there could ever be an inopportune time for the Pope to speak the truth boldly before the world!

I can appreciate the frustrations which some of the SSPX crowd feel with the Vatican and the Pope. But White's remarks sound as though Benedict, in White's eyes, can do no right. I'm sure that White has his reasons for adopting this stance, but I disagree with the weight we ought to assign to those reasons. After reading Stephen Heiner's interview with Bishop Williamson and his interview with Dr. White, I can see this view in common between the two men: Benedict has a mental handicap (called "liberalism") and so we have to be patient with him like a mentally-slow child. While allowing that Benedict is not what we call a "traditionalist", I don't see the need to impugn his mental faculties; there are other good and plausible reasons for thinking that the Pope - whether Benedict or John Paul - is hampered in what he can achieve by the men around him. Mind you! I'm not apologizing for Koran kissing or any of the other wonderful works done by the late and Great Luminous Doctor of the Church. But I think that someone, especially someone like Benedict is concerned not to rock the Barque too much, too soon. Festina lente, yes?

I'm not saying that we're going to see a restoration, true or otheriwse, of tradition by the end of Benedict's reign. We shouldn't fall into this view, I don't think, that each new pontiff to come along is our latest messiah. But we can give the man some space (and positive encouragement) to make some changes for the better which seem to be within his power and willingness to perform, e.g. a freeing of the old Mass.

Second, the question of the modern university. Clara said this much to me in private correspondence: why send everyone to community college instead? That's going to be better?! I agree, I don't see how that's much of a fix. Perhaps by living at home, with mom and dad and sis, the young student can avoid some of the depradations amidst which his more liberated peers will find themselves when 200 miles from home. But this doesn't address what's going on in the classrooms, the liberal ideas and liberal peers which are found there. If you're at a big state school, yes, maybe you can slip into the crowd, but you can't escape the ideas coming from the lectern or the texts.

If the young student has been sufficiently grounded in the Faith to respond critically to such ideas, then why not also think that he can handle himself living away from home? He will, after all, have to live away from home eventually, right? I'm not for sending children off into the big wide world at the age of six, but by the age of 18, I think we should expect them to begin to take some steps on their own.

More problematic, I think, is the thought of keeping faithful and well-qualified Catholic students from the best institutions of higher learning in the land. Whatever this Society's disagreements with the SSPX or the SSPX crowd or David Allen White or the David Allen White crowd, I hope that these folks can see that, though we are Cornell Catholics, we declared war on our Chaplaincy, gave our Sundays to driving two hours (one way) for the old rite Mass, studied together the Roman Catechism on Sundays, have, all of us, a fair to very good knowledge of the contents of encyclicals of the stripe found in The Popes Against Modern Errors. In short, we're full-blown traditionalists even though we're studying (or did) at a nasty secular university in a miserable little liberal town in one of the worst dioceses in America.

Whatever we go on to do after Cornell - well, half of us or so have already moved on - we'll be much better off with the Cornell name than if we had all gone, say, to Lansing Community College. And it's not just the name, of course, it's the education we've received, dangerous and wily as our teachers may have been. Whether we go on to write books for Angelus Press or we become academics seeking to subvert the dominant paradigm of liberalism, there's no way we would have been better off going to community college.

Dr. White may be serious about that advice, but I, for one, can't take it seriously. Yet I don't believe that he takes it seriously, either. It seems to reflect a kind of retreat into the burrow mentality which White himself, though he may talk like it at times, doesn't actually live. All the electricity is going to go out? That sounds kinda cool, but that's going to put a damper on those John Ford Film festivals at the White family compound. He uses the internet, he watches movies, and he wrote a book in "soundbite" format - White seems like a normal guy to me, if only he cooled the rhetoric. But when you say that all the power is going to go out or that everyone ought to go to community college - if not avoid college altogether - this isn't going to make you popular with the hip crowd. Plus, you won't be popular with the nerds (us) either, because you're too freaky even for the nerds. So people will dislike you, you're gonna get picked on, Iacobus will nurse a special grudge against you - but I think that someone like White is used to this by now.

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Temperament?

2006-12-01T08:50:00.000-05:00

Another light and fun post suggested by Catherina Dallasensis: were you aware that the only psychological system ever approved by traditional Catholic teaching is the categorization of one's Temperament? It can be quite helpful in one's personal and spiritual life to know what sort of vices and errors -- as well as virtues and benefits -- you may be temperamentally inclined towards. Are you Sanguine (as is this author), or perhaps Melancholic, Phlegmatic, or Choleric? It's a useful categorization scheme and its deep roots in history save it from simply becoming another form of the sort of pop psychological nonsense so common today.

The only downside is that the only free and complete temperament test online is available only here, through CatholicMatch.com, a Catholic dating service. One need not pay or engage their services to take the test, but they do request rather a lot of personal info.

On the other hand, visiting this site gave me, at least, the distinct surprise of discovering that Michael S. Rose, of Goodbye! Good Men fame, has a regular dating advice and social analysis column for the Catholic Match magazine! My favorite was an article on Catholic small talk.

A Prayer for the Pope

2006-11-30T12:45:00.000-05:00

My dear friends and fellow Christians, it is our solemn privilege and especial pleasure to pray for the health and safety of the Supreme Pontiff, especially whilst he travels amidst a nation of infidels and schismatics. The Archbishop of Birmingham, the ordinary in the land of my present and temporary domicile, therefore, encouraged all his subjects to pray a novena beginning before and including the days of Pope Benedict's sojourn in dangerous lands. I heartily commend his sollicitude on behalf of the Supreme Pontiff, but I question the effeminate taste of the scribe who produced what was given to the whole archdiocese:

Lord, source of eternal life and truth,
Give to your shepherd Pope Benedict XVI
a spirit of courage and right judgment,
a spirit of knowledge and love.

By governing with fidelity those entrusted to
his care may he, as successor to the apostle
Peter and vicar of Christ,
build your Church into a sacrament of unity,
love and peace for all the world.

We ask this through Christ our Lord.

A sacrament of unity? Did I miss something during catechesis? The mysteries of an eighth sacrament, perhaps, were not unlocked for me. And if not "sacrament" in the technical sense, then in the late, churchy Latin sense of "mystery"? Yes, O Lord, build your Church into a mystery of unity, love, and peace. I think that's closer to the idea!

To counteract the nausea I felt after a few days of this prayer, I petitioned my friends, Giove Vitteleschi and Maximilian Hanlon, to write a novena prayer worthy of the man who was once styled the "Panzer Cardinal." I think that our readers will find that my friends were more than equal to the task:

O God, Who of old didst suffer the bowels of Tartarus
to vomit forth the ancient Serpent and Prince of Darkness
to reign within the soul of that false prophet,
Mohammed, prince of the dark races of Arabia,
ever delighted by bloodshed and his childish wife,
and didst permit him to amass unto war
the diabolical nation of Turkish warlocks
deranged by the false promises of hell,
and so through them didst vent forth the venom
of Thy wrath upon those effeminate Greeks,
once Thy precious Dardan sheep,
but now disobedient goats of Satanic pasture,
willfully wandering from the Universal Shepherd
of the Entire Church, the Roman Pontiff,
unto the rocky crags of schism, sin, death, and Mohommedian dominations,
that the ungrateful and disobedient Grecian sons of Rome,
who did rend asunder the Mystical Body of Thy Son,
might be torn asunder by the war-mongering
sons of Hagar the bondswoman for justice' sake;
deign, we beseech Thee, to send forth the Holy Ghost,
eternally proceeding from Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord,
to call the Grecian ingrates back unto Thee,
and to enlighten the intellect and will of Thy Vicar,
Benedict of Bavaria,
now making pilgrimage unto the darkest recesses of pagandom,
to imitate his successors of felicitous memory
and so to indulgence the Final Crusade against those
demoniac Turkish swine, other Mohommedans, Uzbecks, Moors,
and all those who refrain from pork flesh and fine vintage,
that the Standard of Thy Most Holy Cross may once more soar in triumph
even from the minnarets of Constantinople
and the hellish crescent be trappled underfoot,
and that Thy Vicar may at last arrive at the end of his earthly pilgrimage
and attain unto Thee,
Who livest and reignest with the
same Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord,
in the unity of the same Holy Ghost,
the only true God, world without end. Amen.

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University of Dallas Student Video

2006-11-30T05:25:00.000-05:00

My sister, Catharina Dallasensis, sends along this video, made by students at her beloved University of Dallas. It's pretty fun to watch, and it should give hope and encouragement to us all that such a school exists in this time of decay and spiritual woe.

Interview with David Allen White

2006-11-30T04:34:00.000-05:00

The Cornell Society for a Good Time shares this exclusive interview given by David Allen White, author of the recently published, The Horn of the Unicorn (Angelus Press), to Mr. Stephen Heiner of True Restoration. I can only imagine that different readers will find Professor White to be provocative, controversial, infuriating, intriguing and humorous. But since our Society specializes in promoting a rich culture of dialogue - called for by that renowned document of the Second Vatican Council, Molles nunc nos omnes - I hope that our readers will be liberal of their time in sharing their responses to this interview. Over the next week or so, this blog's contributors will offer their own responses in separate posts.

Dr. White, at the time of this interview we are still dealing with the after effects of Pope Benedict's Regensberg address. I have two questions: 1) What was your opinion of his remarks, and 2) What does the Muslim response mean?

In a way I was not surprised by the Pope's remarks insofar as he still views himself as an academic and an intellectual. I seriously believe he pulled out the quotation to prove his scholarly credentials and ignored his other role, if you will, as the leader of the Catholic Church. He did not consider the potential for anger erupting among the Muslim community. The Pope was probably as surprised as everyone else by the reaction of the Muslims to that particular remark that he made, but he shouldn't have been.

He has not yet directly apologized for it. But instead he is again trying to use the equivocation that connects with everything of the post-Vatican II Church, i.e., not making clear statements, not making a clear denial, even coming out and making the outrageous statement that Muslims worship "the one true God," which sounds to me like heresy. It certainly borders on heresy, but clearly he defends it, which means it's an equivocation.

The Muslims have right now what they call in football "Big Mo"–momentum. And for the leader of the severely weakened, apparently nearly-dead Catholic Church to provoke the Muslims at their moment of their great strength seems to me foolhardy, and I believe it was an act of foolishness.

I don't think the Muslim response was surprising. If you had been living in Medieval France at the height of the Catholic Faith and someone made a public statement attacking the Catholic Church–you'd expect a huge reaction. The Muslims have the energy, a faith, sadly, a heretical faith, they don't hold the true Faith by any means but they have a faith that they are committed to and they believe in. They actually believe in their religion to the point of dying for it. One would be hard pressed to find many 21st-century Catholics who would be willing to die for their faith. Would that the Catholic faithful would take offense on behalf of the Triune God, the true God, of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who is insulted daily everywhere around the world!

It would seem that the Muslims are the lone real defenders of the principle "error has no rights."

That is absolutely correct. They are holding to that part of perennial Catholic doctrine. Sadly, they do not realize that they are indeed in error.

Let's go to the beginning of Pope Benedict's reign, when you were interviewed by Hugh Hewitt (The Angelus, April 2005). Two quotes that just jumped out at me were: "I have a number of quarrels with him (Benedict), in terms of certain things he said in some of his books, statements he's made. I'm not going into those tonight; it's not the time or place to do it." And the sentence after: "But I would say this. He went and studied philosophy in the modern German university as a young man. For a bright mind, the modern university is not the place to go." In the October 2006 Angelus, Bishop Williamson seemed to echo you: "…Like so many learned churchmen…he is learned in the wrong philosophy." Three quotes, two questions. First, what quarrels?

Again I think most of the quarrels I would have are already out there; there are remarks that are well reported and that have appeared in numerous books. Let me simply say insofar as he was one of the architects of the Vatican II church, the errors of the Vatican II church permeate his thinking. There are errors that came out of the unfortunate liberal intellectual training he got as a young man.

There is a refusal to deal with doctrine directly, clearly, and explicitly. Everything is ambiguous, everything can be interpreted in two ways, and there is a sentimental belief that God loves everyone: everyone is faithful, everyone goes to heaven, God is in His heaven, all is right with the world. This sentimentalism is detached from modern reality and the historical truths of the Faith, the eternal truths of the Faith as it has been handed down for two-thousand years.

One can only shake one's head in sorrow at the Pope's confusion, imprecision, and material heresy. It is not for me to comment on the interior state of his soul. But the comments he continues to make should disturb any faithful Catholic.

Second, why is the modern university not the place to go for a bright mind? A number of traditional faithful seem to think modern university and college is a non-negotiable norm for men and women.

I have spent my entire life in modern universities. I first entered the university in the fall of 1966 as an undergraduate and I hope to retire within the next year or two, so it has been an entire lifetime. All I can say is that in the modern university there are a few un-stated, unofficial functions that they pursue above all others:

(1) First and most importantly – to destroy any corpuscle of true faith that might reside in any young man or woman.

(2) To render those same young men and women incapable of even dealing with questions of faith, goodness, truth, and beauty, to render them incapable of dealing with those questions in any serious way.

(3) To distance them from and destroy any respect they might have for family, nation, superiors, and any authority figure whatsoever.

(4) To indoctrinate them with liberal social doctrine and make them little machines that will make them spout automatically the liberal dogmas that are pounded into them every second they are in a modern university.

(5) And, finally, to lead them into corrupt personal behavior that will sink them so in sin that they will be incapable of self-knowledge, self-analysis, and any kind of self-reflection that could pull them out of the degenerate pit that surrounds the modern university.

Under no circumstances whatsoever would I recommend anyone send any child to any modern university.

That's certainly unequivocal.

If I could expand on the topic, there is a book – it is shocking and should only be read by serious adults who are aware that there are scenes in it that go beyond the bounds of taste and decency. But it is the single best representation of the modern university. It is a novel by Tom Wolfe called I am Charlotte Simmons. Mr. Wolfe captured with absolute accuracy the truth of the modern university to such a degree that that book was crushed instantaneously upon its publication so that no parents anywhere could read it and find out what is actually going on in the colleges and universities.

Mr. Wolfe, as Hamlet says, "held the mirror up to nature," and gave a perfectly accurate rendering of the modern university in America, in our time. That honest depiction is now preserved in art to our shame, and it should disgust and horror the parents of students and college-bound students themselves.

I have not read it. I know that it is particularly lurid…

It's not that exactly. The artist has two functions, to instruct and to delight.

It is very difficult to delight now because the other thing the artist must do is hold the mirror up to nature. Any real artist has to record accurately the age in which he lives. Tom Wolfe is doing that in holding up a mirror to the modern university, and he is being brutally honest in setting down what is going on there. To be quite honest, I do think in some ways he keeps his novel from being called pornographic by making those scenes clinical, cold, analytical, by just reporting what is happening. In some ways from what I observe going on in the modern university the situation is even worse. He is selective in his details and he moderates to an extent what he is showing but he is absolutely accurate.

There was a terrible incident at the Naval Academy that received national attention over the last few months. The quarterback of the Navy football team was accused of rape, he went to trial (and it was a military trial), and the facts came out which were there:

(1) The young female midshipman had been out in town that night with friends. She drank three rum and diet cokes, two shots of tequila, two shots of Southern Comfort, and a Kamikaze.

(2) She then went back to the dormitory and at 3:30am called her boyfriend to come and "cuddle" with her. He refused, he was sleeping. She then called the Navy quarterback and invited him over. He came.

(3) They then proceeded to some unedifying activities with her roommate in the room. And then she passed out, and he left. Some days later she accused him of rape.

That is at the Naval Academy and it is on the record, and all I can say is, sadly, that it was not an isolated experience. Wolfe in his novel is rendering artistically and creatively (but accurately) similar situations going on in universities from coast to coast.

Going back to Pope Benedict for a moment, you also said: "I'm hoping that God will use the heart of this man much more than necessarily the intellect." Has this statement borne out, and have you seen evidence for the use of either?

I have seen no evidence of it yet, but I do see God's Providence in action, particularly in the reaction of the Muslim community, which I am sure has caught the Pope off guard. He is intellectually unequipped at the moment to deal with what is happening to him. His response to the outrage of the Muslims and the subsequent actions of the Muslims, which seem to prove the truth of the remark he made by simply stating "this shows we need to open dialogue." Meaning intellectually, God's grace has not yet touched his mind. However, as events continue transpiring, I think the Pope may be in the same state as one of the characters of Flannery O'Connor – forced to confront grace when it comes in a shocking manner through unexpected violence.

Meaning…

As she says, sadly in the modern world, the only way God's grace can get through to people is through a shock or a violent action. We are so desensitized, we have lost our ability to reason. It seems that charity won't do it, so God in His infinite Mercy sends violence.

It's the title of her final novel– The Violent Bear it Away –"From the beginning of time until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away."

Violence is allowed – it often seems to triumph. But God permits violence – we know He can bring good out of it, and He may even permit violence as an avenue for grace because it may be the only avenue available to closed-off rigid modern men.

Well–tying together your remark on the Wolfe novel with what O'Connor says here: violence and vile behavior – what is the antidote? Charlotte Simmons – the everygirl – has been duped into this life. It is everywhere.

In one sense the major doctrinal tenet of the false faith of the last centuries has been the lie of progress.

We all believe in the modern world: life is getting better, we have to "look forward," each individual can make his contribution, we'll all leave the world a little better off when we leave than when we entered it, we are all building towards a glorious tomorrow. The universities and colleges have become the temples of progress. That is the place where progressive ideas can be formed, new visions can be created, good hearted, noble minded individuals can be given the tools to go out and turn the world into a better place. And everyone has bought this lie to some extent. No one can believe that the universities and colleges can be destructive, soul-destroying, that they are not temples of progress, but dens of iniquity–mentally, morally, and spiritually.

It seems very clear to me that until we return to the very real vision of man as a creature possessed of original sin who needs God's grace, who falls and repents and keeps on falling, who is a pilgrim on a journey toward Heaven, flawed, stumbling, and often helpless on his own, there can be no restoration of the intellectual life, serious education, or culture as a whole.

Modern schools are founded on a big lie. Until that lie is broken and swept away the insanity will continue.

One of my colleagues called it "university professors in the robes of a false priesthood" after what she saw in opening ceremonies at an Ivy League college.

It is very interesting in a way. The way in which they play this game – it is the temple of progress because it is the temple of science. And the one area that you can still get an actual education in modern universities is in math or the sciences. They are taken seriously, they do research, they are indeed making discoveries in the natural world. Though, I fear, they are crossing boundaries that we are not meant to cross because, in their pride, they have no humility and, being full of themselves and their progressive notions, they don't know that they too are touched with Original Sin. But it is true, they are the priests in this temple, this house of heresy.

If science at its best is the exploration of the natural world given to us by God, then the humanities are the study of man in his supernatural nature. Literature, music, fine arts, philosophy, should tell us something about what it means to be human, live and die in this world as a complex human being possessed of both body and soul. At its highest, it should teach us the Catholic truths. What has happened with the poisoning of the humanities, is that as with everything else in this increasingly satanic world, the humanities have been overturned and are removing everything human from students and teaching them that they have no soul, they have no immortal life, they have no morality, there is nothing in the world worth learning, the great literature is nonsense, the great art is drawn by monkeys, music is banging on a hollow log with a stick, and philosophy isn't worth their time. The humanities have become poisoningly inhuman.

Well, this begs the question, "Doc White, what do I do with my smart kids who want to go to college? How are they supposed to get ahead in this world?"

I've said this before and I'll say it again: send them to the local community college or maybe if necessary a state school where they can hide among a mass of humanity.

First, don't send them anywhere without full body and soul armor.

Second, send them to the local community college or state school where they can hide in their anonymity.

Third, they should absolutely stay at home. Don't let them near a dormitory.

And fourth, keep in mind that in the modern world a college degree is a piece of paper that represents nothing other than that you "served your time." It is the equivalent of a "get out of jail free" card…

Except it comes with a lot of debt…

Except it comes with a huge amount of debt but no employer will be interested in anything other than that you have the piece of paper. If it means you can't get into one of the Ivy League grad schools, then that is an additional blessing.

We are just a few weeks after the erection of the new Institute of the Good Shepherd. Before we get to this, I think it's helpful to revisit Campos. In your Open Letter to the Priests of Campos, I noted that in response to the idea that the Campos priests were now "in perfect communion with the Church" you said: "I never knew you left." In leaving Tradition to join the Conciliar Church, what have these priests gained, and what can we glean from three years of reflection on this event?

What they gained was the approval of the world. And sadly the temptation now is to seek the approval of the world rather than the blessings of God Almighty. To be a traditional Catholic in the present time is to be an outcast, to be scorned, to be spat upon, to be lied about, to be humiliated. To try to understand why many of the priests of Campos went along with this agreement, I would have to, out of human sympathy – many traditionalists are tired – and therefore weak. And once you compromise with modern Rome and are accepted back into the fold, which is really patrolled by wolves disguised as sheep, the world will give its approval. Conservative Catholics will sing your praises, you will get to be on EWTN, certain newspapers will trumpet your great wisdom, you'll get to go to Rome and be wined and dined; you'll feel as if you've come home. But sadly it's as if the prodigal son forgot where his real home was and goes off to the wrong house and is welcomed by false parents and any feast which is thrown for him will turn to ashes in his mouth.

Regarding this new Institute of the Good Shepherd, what is the point of this group when the Society has 450 priests? The larger scope of that question is really twofold:

1) What is the purpose of this group, which is already facing large scale resistance in its "home diocese" in France in the person of the Vicar General; and

2) What does it bode for "negotiations" with the SSPX, recently reannounced just this week as "still ongoing" by Cardinal Castrillon-Hoyos in an I-Media interview?

1) The purpose of the group is to show traditionalists very clearly that even if they try to compromise, the real princes of the Church, the bishops who are in control, will not even permit a teeny, tiny move towards Tradition and will block any such effort. You have the bishops in France turning on Cardinal Castrillon and basically telling him and his superior, the Pope, how things are going to be–this is clear evidence of the destruction of the hierarchy, and it is clear evidence that any traditional group that tries to reconcile with Rome is going to come to grips with overwhelming opposition from the conferences of bishops, who are the ones who are really in control of the Church right now. I think the reaction stands as a clear warning: "Don't be fooled and don't bother."

2) There is a quotation from the Archbishop which I don't have at hand, and he gave it near the end of his life, and he stated it simply as he saw it: there was no point to further negotiations until Rome returned to the Catholic Faith of Tradition. I would just stand with the Archbishop on that.

So I took you back to 2003 and Campos; let's step back further to January 2002 and an article you penned called "Verbicide." In it you say that you reversed your previous position on television being a semi-useful instrument and had only one prescription for it: death by firing squad. Can I take this a bit further? I run a book and movie review website, and am often asked why I am cooperating with Satan by supporting Hollywood implicitly by viewing and reviewing these movies. Have movies occupied the same place as television? Why or why not?

Movies are the granddaddy of television, and, speaking objectively, created the world of images that its grandchild television then brought into every home. Having said that, I am a man that grew up going to movies two times a week, I have a deep love for movies, and I see them as part of my past. I learned certain profound lessons from them when I was young that prepared me to receive the Faith later on. I am of two minds here. I still believe the medium is extremely dangerous–I no longer go to movie theaters to see movies, I find them to be junk. I do, however, still watch the great films of the past, especially those of my two favorite directors, both Catholic: John Ford and Alfred Hitchcock.

I find even now that my time is not wasted by returning to those great films of those great Catholic filmmakers because there are some profound truths held within them. So if you wish to compromise, and I might understand why some might still want to watch movies, then get your TV a good DVD player and a complete set of the John Ford films and the Alfred Hitchcock films and satisfy that gnawing hunger with the best art that the medium has produced.

I do believe that movies, as much as I love them, are a second rate art form because they are totally dependent on technology, and when the day comes, I imagine sooner than any of us imagines, when the "plug is pulled," that art form will vanish completely and forever.

Well, let's get the top three picks for both directors while we are on this topic.

John Ford: 1) The Searchers, which is a great American work of art that I will mention in the same breath as Moby Dick, the greatest work of American literature; 2) The Quiet Man; and this isn't fair, because it's a trilogy, but anyway, 3) The Cavalry Trilogy: Fort Apache, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, and Rio Grande. Those are the films that lead me to call John Ford the American Homer. He created the Western art form, he understands the basics of combat, of men in combat, of the conflict of families in combat. I was on an Alaskan cruise recently lecturing on the Iliad, and as I was lecturing on it, I kept drawing parallels with this trilogy.

Alfred Hitchcock: 1) Vertigo, my absolute favorite; 2) Shadow of a Doubt, which was Hitchcock's own favorite; and 3) Psycho, because it is a terrifying and frightening and devastating look into the dark reaches of the human soul worthy of Edgar Allan Poe.

I'll add a fourth – for the clearest expression of Hitchcock's Catholic faith – I Confess.

In that same article "Verbicide," you lament the movie Gladiator. Since this article is no longer available in print, can you summarize why you don't like it, and why you think it's a bad movie?

My problem with Gladiator is that there was no narrative. From the first ten minutes I had a sense of everything that was going to happen afterwards, and it all seemed to be proven correct. There was nothing to watch. The sign of absolute crisis in modern films is that you no longer have narrative, you no longer have directors who know how to tell a story. The stories are trite, predictable, and as a result, completely uninteresting. They try to dazzle you with special effects…

My favorite example of this–I go back to John Ford again–I sat through this dreadful movie years ago, it was hugely popular and brought to the Naval Academy hundreds of new people who all wanted to fly, called Top Gun. It was about Naval aviators. About a week after I saw it I saw an early John Ford film called Airmail, which was about the early days of the airmail service in the United States. In the first ten minutes of Airmail John Ford used the entire plot of Top Gun and then went on and had a real story to tell.

Why is narrative so essential?

Narrative is essential because we have a longing for stories. Stories teach us about life–but they also provide an ordering mechanism by which we can view life in a more serious way. Aristotle in his Poetics defines tragedy as having a beginning, a middle, and an end. My students always chuckle when they read that, and I have to explain to them that it is a profound notion. It suggests there is movement in action from an initiated episode, through complications, to a final resolution. And the more complex that vision is the closer it can come to life itself.

One problem with modern film is that the puny, malnourished narratives suggest how little we understand of the world we live in, and these movies can give us virtually nothing to hold on to, explore, or learn from.

That's certainly true for movies. As for books, why don't people read anymore? Your most recent work, The Horn of the Unicorn, was written in this milieu of non-reading insofar as you wrote much of this book in "soundbite" format. Is this what authors will have to do in the future, or are there other practical measures we can take to read more, or frankly, read at all?

The actual statistics are that only 20% of Americans read one book a year. And of that 20% who read one book a year, 80% read one work of bestseller fiction. That means nobody is reading.

I sincerely think that the publishing industry will soon downscale itself to the point of non-existence. The reading public will be gone forever. We are getting an indication of this from the fact that young people no longer read newspapers. And if they don't read newspapers they certainly are not reading books. They read on the Internet, but what they read is comprised entirely of their insipid instant messenger conversations or each other's blogs about what they did yesterday at some party.

Even in many institutions of so-called "higher learning" book collections are disappearing. There is a debate at the Academy right now. They are about to build a new library because after 40 years the present library has become outmoded. They don't have room for all their special collections that they've had donated throughout the years. So the question is, do we just get rid of them or do we find some place else to keep them? The new library that they are talking about, of course, will have many more computers, will be much more electronically oriented, so that again, when the power goes out, God let it be soon, not only will movies disappear but those books that were put online will be gone as well.

Let me say this, and I think this is a good measure of the crisis. Two years ago, with my plebes – the freshmen at the Naval Academy – I had a class who had tested out of the first semester of freshman composition, so they were bright. They were very good students. I assigned Alexander Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward, a 500-page novel, one of the great works of our age. I could tell they were falling behind in the reading. I told them that I could tell that they were behind and that I wanted to work with them so that they get through it. And when I posed this to them, the best young student replied: "Doc, to be honest, I cannot read for more than ten minutes at a stretch." All of the other midshipmen agreed with him.

This was the best young student we had created – a student with a ten-minute attention span when it comes to reading. In a world filled with a thousand distractions that take no effort at all, we know it is all too easy to not bother, because reading demands concentration, focus, thought, and attention.

The simple fact is that Gresham's law of economics and currency–"bad money drives out good money"–applies to the reading young people do today: bad reading drives out good reading. They've been raised with soundbites. If one communicates with them it will have to be through sound bites or images. It doesn't bode well for the future. God has His purposes.

Where do you see hope?

There are two great and blinding indicators of hope: 1) God has seen to it through modern saints that the Catholic Church with all its truth and glory as the ark of souls will sail forward. 2) It is also clear that He is about to send great suffering. Those of us who claim to have the Faith will soon have a chance to prove it by going through suffering that is unimaginable just as the sinful nature of this world is unimaginable.

Pope Pius XII said in the late 40's, that at that time, the world was in a worse state than before the Flood. If you look at the evils unleashed in the last half century, then imagine how much greater our suffering must be than that of those who went through the first great Chastisement. Because the Catholic Church has continued and we know will continue, because we know Our Lord is still with us in the sacraments and has been nourishing us even as Rome herself tried to remove those sacraments from us, then we must be prepared for our own personal Way of the Cross, ready to mount Golgotha and be nailed to that wood, and be grateful to God that He has given us the chance to, as St. Paul says, fill up the sufferings of Christ.

What were your biggest surprises in writing The Horn of the Unicorn?

I think there were two surprises. The first was the discovery of a major theme of the book that I didn't know I was going to put down. As I worked on The Horn of the Unicorn and looked at the life of Archbishop Lefebvre, I kept writing the same sentence over and over again, which was "But God had other plans." I became aware at some point in writing his life story that The Horn of the Unicorn as a reflection of the life of Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre is really a book about the workings of Providence.

God knows what He intends for each of us to do in this world, even if we don't. Often as we are disappointed in what He gives to us, or forces upon us–if we accept it with all humility at some point we will end up at the place He intends us to be, doing the work He intends for us to do. And there can be no one who shows forth this better than the Archbishop.

The second was that I knew I was writing a work about a great man, but what became increasingly clear to me was that I was writing a book about a modern hero, and for someone who has taught literature for a lifetime I didn't think there could be modern heroes. I had only one name on my list, and that was Alexander Solzhenitsyn. And I realized that Archbishop Lefebvre was heroic in much the same way. That's why there is one place in the book where I put quotations from these two men side by side. One, a great secular hero who was still teaching some great lessons that God wanted him to give to the world, and the other, a great saint of the modern world, who stands as a tower of strength and inspiration for those who have the faith and as a reproach to all those who have compromised it.

Solzhenitsyn strikes me as someone who is not normally read by the average reader. Can he be recommended broadly?

Yes, he can be recommended broadly if you find the right venues into his works.

First and foremost, the work that brought him international fame, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, can be read by any reader. It is short, it is clear, and it contains all of the major themes of the larger works.

Secondly, one of the most beautiful short stories ever written by anyone in any time is called "Matronia's House", and I recommend it to every reader. In fact, one of the great bits of news in the literary world in the last few years is that Solzhenitsyn, now in his late 80's, has begun writing short stories again.

I would also recommend very highly his later novel, Cancer Ward, where the only off-putting problem is the Russian names. However, that problem crops up for anyone trying to read Dostoevsky or Tolstoy as well.

I've said this repeatedly, and I do believe it: the great work of our age is the Gulag Archipelago, and Solzhenitsyn himself said that readers should feel free to flip through pages until they find passages they want to read in it, so one does not have to read that book the way one might read Scripture.

Frame Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Solzhenitsyn for the Catholic mind.

The traditional Catholic should have a profound understanding of why the great literature of the last two centuries has come out of Russia. We know for a fact, because we were told by our Blessed Mother herself, that the signal event of world history and the sign of the restoration of the Church is going to be the conversion of Russia. Eyes have been turned to Russia because of its great artists for the past two centuries. The messages they have been giving to the world are messages the Church has been neglecting: man has a soul, modern atheistic attempts to arrange a utopia on earth will fail, the greatest good that can come to us is suffering because from great suffering comes great wisdom, and that curiously enough, Russia herself will play an important role in the future of the entire world.

This is particularly true of Dostoevsky and Solzhenitsyn. Tolstoy is a special case, and while he is a great writer, he is a lesser thinker and doesn't quite convey the same lessons as those two giants.

Give us a must-read from both Dostoevsky and Tolstoy.

The must-read from Tolstoy is Anna Karenina, which indeed is a profound moral work that gives a brilliant vision of 19th century Russia.

The great Dostoevsky work is, of course, The Brothers Karamazov, but I have a special place in my heart for Demons. There you will find many predictions made which align with the prophecies of Fatima.

Continuing with reading, there is an Angelus (December 1990) "Ambrose Observes" which discusses Brideshead Revisited. That's not the only time we've heard you speak about that work. Let me ask a threefold question for our readers who may not be familiar with Waugh's work: 1) In a sentence, what is the greatness of this work?

Let me quote the author himself, who can say it better than I can. Waugh stated he wrote the book to show the operation of God's grace even in the modern world.

2) What are two or three major lessons or themes to be thought well upon?

I have trouble with this one, and I'll tell you why. I've just been teaching Flannery O'Connor's short stories to my Midshipmen, and I read to them a commentary she made once in which she gets upset when someone asks her what the theme of her stories is as if it were a string holding a sack of chicken feed together–and if you could pluck that one string then the whole sack of chicken feed would open up to you. As she would put it, "the meaning of the story is the whole story," so I hate to do this, but I have to say the major themes of Brideshead Revisited exist in the whole book.

3) Who should read it?

I believe everyone should read it. Certainly Catholics should know the great works of their own time. But I have been blessed by God to see a number of young souls into the Church and into Tradition during my teaching years at the Naval Academy. Among the first books I would hand them was always Brideshead Revisited because it reflected much of the world they lived in, and the exact place they were coming from, in that the narrator himself is an agnostic atheist who is abandoned by all those around him who should have guided him.

It has been for me the single greatest instrument of the conversion of the young–but I fear that the world may now have even moved beyond Brideshead.

Well, in thinking of your thoughts above on universities, I think of Vile Bodies…

It's a magnificent work. I've been teaching it lately, in fact, and my students recognize themselves in it, even though the book is decades old. It is not about universities, it's about young life completely out of control.

For the Catholic reader I would follow up with his two great directly Catholic works: Helena, which is a fictional life of St. Helen, finder of the True Cross, and his great biography of St. Edmund Campion. I would certainly recommend Vile Bodies, and then I would recommend his great WWII work, Sword of Honour. You can get all three novels in one volume. It is one of the few novels to come out of the war that tells the truth about the war, which is that it was a great victory for the Soviet Union and a great defeat for the West. But even beyond that, Waugh has beyond that experience, which he puts in that novel, a sense of the dark time that lay ahead for all Catholics.

There is a horrible scene in which the hero goes to Confession only to find out later that the priest is a spy, and has passed on things said under the seal of the confessional. He didn't even tell him things of a military nature. It's just that the priest is a spy and much more concerned with spying than his priestly duties, meaning, he's more concerned with worldly politics than the care of souls.

That reminds me of Ingmar Bergman's masterful Seventh Seal in which Death hears the protagonist's confession so as to cheat him in the chess game. I think one of the very first tapes I heard "against" rock music was yours–I don't recall when you gave it. What's changed since then?

This will sound very odd, but my sense is that rock music has become even more isolating for the young people who listen to it. At the time I made that tape there were 12-15 big name rock groups that had huge records sales that all the young people were listening to. And I never heard any of them, but I knew all their names because I heard all my students talking about them endlessly. What I've discovered now is, that as with protestant sects, the number of rock bands keeps multiplying over and over again, and now each individual rock listener has a favorite rock band of his own and there is very little communal connection even among those young people who listen to rock. The society we live in is becoming more and more atomistic. We are individual tiny cells whirling around all by ourselves, and it seems to be that even rock is helping in this isolation.

So much sound and fury, signifying nothing, delivered directly to your always-in-your-ears iPod.

Precisely, with your own favorite group. It's crazy. The basic nature of rock has not changed.

Some have expressed a great desire for you to teach at a traditional Catholic school. Could you ever be pulled away from the plebes?

Let me just say that the greatest joy and consolation in my life is that I know I have been right where I was supposed to be doing the work God intended me to do. I have been fortunate enough to see many of my students come into the Catholic Church and become strong proponents of Tradition. I've also taught for 36 years, and I am worn out. I am looking forward to some quiet time, and I hope God allows it to me. But I just wrote a book about a man who thought he was going to retire also, and then the major work of his life began…so let me just say "man proposes, but God disposes."

What do you think are the pros and cons of the Internet?

The one great advantage of the Internet is that you can find obscure information quickly.
I remember going into class one day, needing a copy of Pope Benedict XV's encyclical on Dante. I had one in my office but I couldn't find it. I was able to pull it up on the Internet in about two minutes. I have a colleague that was ill, and I agreed to teach her class on Tennyson, and the poem she had them read was "Tithonus." I knew it very well, hadn't seen it for ages, couldn't find my copy of it, and pulled it up on the Internet in 20 seconds. That's the great advantage of the Internet.

The disadvantage of the Internet is that it makes each man feels all-powerful. It gives us a sense of god-like powers–all knowledge is at our fingertips. I can communicate with everyone, everywhere. My voice will be heard by those in the far reaches of the world–this is terrible temptation towards pride.

It also allows people to pull up dreadful, corrupting material as quickly as they can pull up a papal encyclical on Dante or a poem by Tennyson, and we know in fact that the vast majority of Internet use is for those darker purposes.

And as I mentioned earlier, more and more printed material is now assumed to be online so we don't need to keep it in books anymore, we will have it at our fingertips so that when the power goes out, it will vanish, which is why we might be getting close to the point of Ray Bradbury's Farenheit 451. It's not my favorite novel, but it is an interesting novel. I think it might be useful for traditional Catholics to memorize a piece of poetry, a drama or a novel, or some philosophy, theology, or history, so that when the power does go out, we will have insured a way to preserve it.

Well, this is the third time you've mentioned it, so let me ask, what do you mean "power going out"?

Well, here is Doc White's crackpot theory. To my mind one of the great essays written in my lifetime is Solange Hertz's essay "Hell's Amazing Grace." In this essay she talks about electricity itself as a satanic invention that stands in opposition to God's true light. If the universe began with "fiat lux," then God is the creator of light, and that light was given to us through the sun, which defined day and night, allowed the crops to grow, and gave us the seasons. It connected us to nature in a profound and beautiful way.

But the invention of electricity has allowed us to turn night into day, winter into summer, and summer into winter, with air conditioning and heating. It has allowed us to feel as if we have the world at our fingertips. It's a brilliant essay. It occurred to me recently that we are now totally dependent upon power and electricity for every aspect of our lives. All that Satan needs to do is turn out the power, and then his false son can step forward to perform the great miracle of restoring the power to us if we fall down and worship him.

And I think even many good souls, perhaps even traditional Catholics might be tempted to worship him if it meant they could get their garage door opener back and have the fridge back, so the beer will be cold again, and have their TV and Internet back.

That is not a crackpot theory.

Well, it seems to me that we are getting increasingly close to that.

It's been five years since 9/11. What are your thoughts and reflections, especially someone who lives so close to an area that was attacked?

This may be a mark of age but politics has ceased to interest me altogether. I find it a cacophony and yammering of confused voices, all shouting the same message in different dialects. I believe politics is a serious study and a serious endeavor, but as with most serious endeavors in the modern world it has been reduced to nonsense, and I find it difficult to take seriously any longer. It seems to me, the direction we are going, whether we choose path A or path B, we are going to wind up at the same place….

A short route to Chaos, as Robert Bolt put it.

Yes. A place of severe chastisement, justly merited.

Thanks for your time, Dr. White.

A pleasure, likewise.

Conducted by Stephen L.M. Heiner, in St. Paul, Minnesota, September, 2006. Stephen L.M. Heiner runs a tutoring and test prep company in Overland Park, Kansas. He spends his weekends in St. Marys, Kansas, where he goes to the Latin Mass and writes freelance articles in print and on the Internet.

The Cornell Society for a Good Time now holds the rights to this interview online as it devolved to the interviewer, Stephen L. M. Heiner, who then granted it to us. We would appreciate being contacted concerning any reproduction of this interview in its entirety at cornellcatholiccircle at gmail dot com.

The photographs with this post are owned by Stephen L.M. Heiner. Please see TrueRestorationPhotos.blogspot.com for more information.

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Constantinople

2006-11-30T02:44:00.000-05:00

During all the centuries in which these Emperors were trying to bring the Church under the same subjection as the State their most steadfast opponents were the Popes of Old Rome, their most servile agents the Patriarchs of New Rome. The story, then, of the rise of the See of Constantinople is not a creditable one. It has no splendid traditions from the earliest age; it had none of the lustre of Apostolic origin; its dignity could not be compared with that of the old Patriarchates, Rome, Alexandria, Antioch; it had nothing of the sacred associations of Jerusalem. A new see, in itself of no importance, its claims were pushed solely because of a coincidence that had nothing to do with the Church. It was only because of the presence of the Emperor and through his tyrannical policy that the Church of his city managed to usurp the first place among the Eastern Churches, and at last to lead them all in a campaign against the See of Peter.

At last John IV, the Faster, of Constantinople, thought he could assume the title "Oecumenical Patriarch." It is well known how St. Gregory the Great sternly forbade him to use this name, which is not even used by the Pope. "Who doubts," he says, "that the Church of Constantinople is subject to the Apostolic See? Indeed the most pious Lord Emperor and our brother the bishop of that city both eagerly acknowledge this." Again: "I know of no bishop who is not subject to the Apostolic See." It is also known how in opposition to this pompous title he assumed for himself with proud humility the title borne ever since by his successors, "Servant of the Servants of God." Althought the Patriarchs of Constantinople went on using their title till it became, as it still is, their official style, it is noticeable that even Photius never dared call himself Ecumenical Patriarch when writing to the Pope.

The legates then at last prepare a bull of excommunication. They are still on quite good terms with the Emperor, and they are very careful to say nothing against the Byzantine Church. "As far as the pillars of the Empire are concerned, and its wise and honoured citizens, the city is most Christian and Orthodox." "But we," they go on, "not bearing the unheard-of offense and injury done to the holy Apostolic and first See, wishing to defend in every way the Catholic faith, by the authority of the holy and undivided Trinity and of the Apostolic See, whose Legates we are...declare this: That Michael, patriarch by abuse, neophyte, who only took a monk's habit by fear and is now infamous because of many very bad crimes, and with him Leo, called Bishop of Achrida, and the Sacellarius of the said Michael, who with profane feet trampled on the sacrifice of the Latins and all their followers in the aforesaid errors and presumptions shall be Anathema Maranatha...with all heretics, and with the devil and his angels, unless they repent. Amen."

It was Saturday, July 16, 1054, at the third hour. The Hagia Sophia was full of people, the priests and deacons are vested, the Prothesis of the holy Liturgy has begun. Then the three Latin legates walk up the great church through the people, go in through the Royal Door of the Ikonostasis and lay their bull of excommunication on the altar. As they turn back they say: Videat Deus et iudicet. The schism was complete.

It is always rather dangerous to claim that misfortunes are a judgement of God, and indeed no one could have thought of satisfaction at the most awful calamity that ever happened to Christian Europe. At the same time one realizes how, from the day the Legates turned back from the altar on which they had laid their bull, the Byzantine Church has been cut off from all intercourse with the rest of Christendom, how her enemies gathered round this city nearer and nearer each century, till at last they took it, how they overturned the Latin altars, took away the great church as he had taken away ours, and how since that the successors of the man who would not bow to the Roman Pontiff have had to bow to, have had to receive their vestiture from, the unbaptized tyrant who sits on the throne of Constantine; one realizes this and sees that the words of the Legates were heard and that God has seen and judged.

And we need too, the righter balance that would be restored by reunion with the Orthodox. In spite of our loyalty to our own rite, and in spite of our natural pride in being not only Catholics but Latins and members of the greatest Patriarchate, we have to realize that the Latin Church is not, has never been, the whole Body of Christ...And we need their ideas, their traditions and spirit in the church as well as our own. Their conservatism now means only fossilization; joined to our life it would be sane and useful balance. Their love of liturgy and dislike of innovations has something to teach our people. If we refret the too sudden way in which new devotions spread amongst us, the gradual divorce of people from the real rites of the Church, the slight regard paid to her seasons, the exaggeration of pious fancies above the old and essential things, the abuses in such matters as indulgences, privileges, and special favours against which the Council of Trent already spoke, we should find the remedy of all these things in the solid piety and the unchanging loyalty towards the customs of their fathers among Eastern Christians.

From Adrian Fortescue's The Orthodox Eastern Church.

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Will Communion in the Hand Convince?

2006-11-29T04:17:00.000-05:00

Some days back, one of our regular commenters, Peregrinator in terra, challenged me to make the trip from Oxford to the Isle of Wight in order to visit St. Cecilia's Abbey. "Then return and try to use the words 'novus ordo' or 'Vatican Council II' in a less than respectful fashion." Personally, I like to refer to the Council in a most respectful fashion as the Second Oecumenical Council of the Vatican, but perhaps our readers have realized by now that this sobriquet is used with more than a trace of sarcasm.

I like challenges involving pilgrimages, but short on money and leisure for travel, I had to resort to Catharina Oxoniensis' memories of the place to consider whether it would be likely to change my opinion about the New Order or the Second Oecumenical Council held at the Vatican.

This convent of Benedictine nuns has a reputation for services dignified and beautiful. As I understand it, they sing the Divine Office entirely in Latin. They have recorded more than a few CDs of chant, one of which I own. The Sunday High Mass at the convent is a Latin Novus Ordo. During the week, however, if Catharina's memory serves, the Masses are said in English. If this is correct - I don't know - it must be partly due to the fact that they are dependent upon the services of the priests making retreat at their convent. They have no resident chaplain.

Catharina enjoyed the hospitality of the sisters and found them to be very kind. So kind, in fact, that she dared to write a letter to the guest mistress questioning a certain practice she had observed among the nuns at St. Cecilia's. "Why," Catharina asked, "is it the case that all of the nuns receive Holy Communion standing and in the hand?" The guest mistress gracefully replied that she herself sympathized with this concern and would wish that it were otherwise, adding that it is permitted to receive in the more traditional fashion. It remains, though, that none of the sisters do so receive.

I can understand this, because they are religious, living a cloistered life, and it would be a recipe for disaster to stick out like a sore thumb, especially in a way which would seem to exceed the norm of piety and devotion in the convent. If at Convent A, it is customary to make five full-body prostrations before kneeling to receive on the tongue at the Communion rail, it wouldn't be right decent to do seven full-body prostrations.

But this principle holds more fully in indifferent matters, such as about superogatory full-body prostrations. When it comes to receiving the Lord of the Universe, however, in most Holy Communion - well, I'm sure we all remember the words of Blessed Mother Teresa on the subject which Fr. George Rutler made so famous in one of his Good Friday discourses.

I'm afraid, Peregrinator in terra, that it is this sort of thing which reveals to me the spirit - at least, the theological spirit - of the place, whether it's St. Cecilia's or any other monastery or convent. Beautiful liturgies, even in the new Mass - and they can be very beautiful, as seen at the various Oratories - are never going to sell me on the spirit of Vatican II. They're not going to sell me on the new Mass because they are the exception which proves the rule and highlights just how bad or ugly things are elsewhere.

The spirit of the new Mass is optionality (that's probably not a word, but you get my drift). Everything is optional, even the way in which we receive Our Lord in Communion. Some of these options may be matters of indifference, subject to the dictates of our taste or the local custom, but, in my opinion, the manner of receiving Holy Communion is not one of these things.

It isn't rocket science: just kneel down and open your trap! If a parish or group of religious is stuck on something as basic as this, your average traditionalist isn't going to be impressed. There are so many other and bigger theological questions to worry about which the post-conciliar period has brought to the fore.

So while I'm sure that St. Cecilia's is very beautiful and that the nuns are very sweet, somewhere along the way, they got a dose of the N.O., one symptom of which is receiving Communion in the hand. Sadly, it may well have been a decision of one person made for the rest of the community; that person may not even be in charge any longer, but the "tradition" remains. And again, while beautiful Novus Ordo Masses are something which I think more people should see, they're not likely to move someone away from the old Mass, its lack of options, and all of its attendant theology.

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CSGT Gift Guide

2006-11-28T10:50:00.000-05:00

With no intention of being comprehensive, I thought I would give our readers a couple of tips.

I most eagerly would like to point our readers to a new book of reflections on the Eucharist by one of the Society's most Good Timing honorary chaplains, Fr. Bryce Sibley: Fount of Love: Eucharistic Reflections.

But while I'm at it, I thought I might as well also tell people about this site, which sells very nice reproductions of antique holy cards.