Good counsel?

My mother and I had a lengthy discussion last night about life. This was instigated over my feelings of profound annoyance about someone I know, pecuniary matters mostly. I don't like feeling annoyed about them because I love them immensely, but I just do feel annoyed, and I feel sorry for them. Inevitably (as has most discussion with my mother turned of late) the matter turned to my unfortunate circumstances, apropos, University, long-term employment etc. I don't like my mother's way of dealing with this matter; ''well Patrick, if you'd actually done some work you wouldn't be in this position'' - you know, the rubbing-my-nose-in-it approach, and I don't like having to face ''reality'' at the best of times, but a good dose of reality can be refreshing and helpful sometimes.

One thing my mother blames my failure at University on is this blog. In fact, she has asked me to stop blogging altogether. In reality the problem goes deeper than that. When I enrolled in 2006 I was young, had lots of money and lacked personal discipline. Now I am less young than I was, have no money at all and still lack personal discipline, and the application to do anything worthwhile. In all honesty I am entirely frustrated with life. I am sick to death of subsisting on £350 a month (which, because I am constantly overdrawn, is never even that much - £200 if I am lucky); on top of this I have a standing order going to try and rebuild my savings (which 4 years ago were about £4,000 - now it is £30!), I have a monthly phone bill to pay (my mother blames my purchasing the iPhone upon the influence of ''social climbers'' - keeping up with the Joneses etc), and housekeeping; so it all adds up. In the end I am left with nothing and I don't like that. I haven't purchased a single book in months! So all I have going for me is my education, which is hanging on by a thread. One of my biggest regrets is not having gone to Oxford (I could have done, I had the grades), but I was too afraid to leave home. Never mind, we all make mistakes.

In the meantime, I am going to take my mother's advice and stop blogging. She has in fact commanded me to do so. I often wondered whether this small, vicious, blog was even a positive contribution to the ''apostolate'' of blogging. As I said in a previous post, thinking more deeply upon the life and dispositions of J.R.R Tolkien (my hero), I don't think he'd approve of blogs much. In the last few weeks, I have lost four followers - perhaps this is a sign that I have reached the end of the road? What do you all think?

A prelude...

Patricius is writing a post (or will begin to write, when he gets time) about what he believes, since his beliefs were recently called into question by a reader. Surely if all Catholic blogs said the same thing they'd all be boring? And personally I wouldn't look to a blog, which at the end of the day is a private endeavour, to find the general voice of the Church or as a guide of faith. Blogs, which I am sure Tolkien would not approve of (at least as an ''apostolate'' of the Church, in a literary context), are written by individuals who think they have something to say which may or may not be positive, informative, or whatever. I write because I enjoy writing, and hope that this small blog, which averages a readership of about 80 a day, redounds to the greater glory of God. I certainly do not have my readers in mind when I write, nor am I going to moderate my convictions to suit any of them.

I am a Catholic. I am not a ''traditionalist'' - such labels are spurious and entirely meaningless. Do you honestly think that God will care much when you stand next to the most raving liberal on the Day of Judgement and you are asked to give an account of your deeds? Oh but Lord! I was a Traditionalist! I am not a Roman Catholic, in the sense that I do not live in Rome (my relationship, therefore, with the Holy Father is markedly different from a Catholic living in the Diocese of Rome - to a Roman man, the Pope is local Bishop, Archbishop, Metropolitan, Patriarch and Vicar of Christ all at once - to me, he is not local Bishop, nor Archbishop nor Metropolitan - just Pope and Patriarch), and neither do I think that everything that emanates from Rome in the liturgical sense is necessarily catholic or apostolic, even in the broadest sense, and therefore is not for the good of the Church. For my part I love and respect the present Holy Father - he far outshines his most recent predecessors, and I think he is a very pious and erudite man. I am certainly not a Protestant or an Orthodox. I am a purely liturgical Catholic, and I reverence Tradition over novelty, unlike the present fashion of adhering to both in a comfortable relativistic fudge.

More on this in the actual post. Meantime, I have to be up early for work...

Politics...

I have absolutely no interest in politics whatsoever. This is what I said to a UKIP candidate (or whatever he was, he was posting leaflets through peoples' front doors) when I was stopped by him as I was walking home from church on Laetare Sunday. Naturally his reaction was a short speech about how my taxes are spent, etc. I just stared at him blankly and nodded. Does this make me complacent?

I believe I have only voted once (in a local election), to the constant indignation of my mother, who persistently reminds me of my right to vote. I concede that we must ''make hay while the Sun shines'', as the saying goes, considering that in 50 years there will be no voting, only one Party, the Party of Antichrist, no freedom, the Church having been driven into new catacombs etc. The trouble is, I don't like rendering unto Caesar, because I don't like Caesar. There is always something wrong with the candidate, something very wrong, and I have a cordial loathing for most politicians anyway. And as for political parties...I find the very notion abominable. By such ill-luck was I born into these latter days. I despair of Caesar; he is a monster and in such a short time has managed to turn virtue into vice and sin into that which is praiseworthy; divorce, fornication, contraception, abortion, homosexuality - all (or at least most, we're not quite into the Last Days yet) conceivable abuses are held aloft, reflecting the most reprehensible grotesqueries of human nature (or at least the nature of a Man who has given up - why bother observing even the Natural law when you have ceased loving God - or even acknowledging that there is one?), and the Church and her ministers, the entire perfect society on earth, are kicked sideways. But then what is the use of complaining? Surely we are blessed when we are abused for Our Lord's sake?

Kingship is naturally the best form of government, not democracies which fragment authority. Nature is afterall hierarchical...

Do I, therefore, vote or don't I?

Thought-provoking...

I am not that into psychology, or analysing eras/periods in history with the benefit of hindsight, foolishly going over what should have happened etc. As Denethor said to Gandalf, such ifs and buts are vain. Fr Hunwicke, the erudite Anglican priest of St Thomas' in Oxford, has written a thought-provoking, albeit succinct, post about Gaudium et Spes (gosh what a tragically misleading title) and the 1960s in general. I am not interested one iota in that book he is reading, although readers who are into that period may find it interesting.

What I agree with the eminent Fr Hunwicke most about is the sole good of the 1960s, the most foresighted document to come from that period - Humanae Vitae. When I first read Humanae Vitae my first thoughts were that I had seriously misjudged Paul VI - I used to think he was a nasty wretched liberal. I think one can still legitimately think that - he is solely responsible for the Novus Ordo, whatever one thinks of Bugnini and his cronies (as my M.C constantly reminds me - the first rule of leadership is that everything is your fault!) for instance, but Humanae Vitae represents an eminent good about the Papacy - the ability of a Pope to act according to his authority and good will for the good of the Church. I don't know but I believe that the ''commission'' Paul VI had set up to examine the pros/cons of artificial birth control had counselled the Holy Father that artificial birth control was a good, or at least a ''necessary'' evil (tolerable at least for ''pastoral'' reasons).

Feed my sheep was Our Lord's last charge to St Peter. Surely this doesn't refer merely to the Blessed Sacrament? Gosh, I am speaking good of Paul VI! I have had a few though...

The Childhood of Túrin, Part I...

Húrin and Huor were the sons of Galdor, Lord of Dor-lómin. In their youth they dwelt in the forest of Brethil as the foster-sons of Haldir, their uncle, as was the custom of Northern Men in those days. They went oft to battle with the Orcs upon the borders of that land, and though the boys were yet young by the reckoning of Men, Húrin was strong and fierce in battle, and Huor was already as tall as most full-grown Men.

On a time the brothers went with a company of scouts, but they were ambushed by the Orcs and scattered, and they were pursued even to the fords at Brithiach. There they would have been captured or slain but for the power of the lord Ulmo in the upper waters of Sirion. It is told that a mist arose from the river and concealed the brothers from the eyes of their enemies, and they escaped into Dimbar. There they wandered among the hills in hardship, lost, until Thorondor espied them from his high eyries, and he sent two eagles to them, who brought them to the Hidden City of Gondolin, which no Man had yet seen.

At Gondolin the brothers were received well, for they were Edain, and moreover Ulmo had counselled Turgon to treat kindly with the people of Hador. Húrin and Huor dwelt as guests in the King's house for well-nigh a year, and had honour in the realm, and they received there the wisdom of the Gnomes, and learned somewhat of the counsels of the Gnomes. Turgon indeed took great liking to the brothers, and desired to keep them in Gondolin out of love and not only for the sake of his law that none who came hither had leave to depart. But the brothers grew weary of the Hidden City and desired to return to their kin, to share in their griefs and in the defence of their homes against the Dark Lord. And so Turgon granted them leave to go, for said Húrin, they found not the way hither and they knew not surely where the City stood.

But Maeglin, the nephew of Turgon, was grieved not at all at their going; for he had no liking for any Man and moreover he begrudged them the clemency of the King. To Húrin he said: ''The King's grace is greater than you know, and some might wonder wherefore the strict law is abated for two knave-children of Men. It would be safer if they had no choice but to abide here as our servants to their life's end.'' But Húrin said: ''The King's grace is great indeed, but if our word is not enough, then we will swear oaths to you.'' And the brothers swore never to reveal the counsels of the King, and to keep secret all that they had seen and heard in his realm. And so Thorondor, coming by night, bore the twain away and set them down in Dor-lómin before the dawn. Their kinsfolk rejoiced to see them, although many (not least Galdor, the old lord) wondered at the strange fortune of the brothers, and the Eagles, and the oath of silence pointed to Gondolin, Men thought.

So the days passed, and the shadow of the fear of Morgoth lengthened, and the days drew on to the dread year 472. Húrin married Morwen of the House of Bëor. Morwen was dark-haired and tall, and men called her Eledhwen, the elven-fair, for she was beautiful, albeit stern of mood and proud. The sorrows of the House of Bëor saddened her, for she had come as an exile from Dorthonion after the Dagor Bragollach. Túrin was their firstborn child, and he was born in that year (464) in which Beren son of Barahir came into Doriath and first looked on Lúthien. A daughter was also born to Morwen, Urwen, but by all who knew her she was Lalaith, for the sound of her laughter brought the sound of Nen Lalaith, a stream that came singing out of the hills past Húrin's house, to the minds of Men, and they were glad when she was among them.

To be continued...

Art: Ted Nasmith. It is a sketch depicting Lalaith.

Ugh...

This is probably one of the most distressing photos I have ever seen (courtesy of Tradwatch). What do you think?

Had I stayed on at University reading Divinity, I would have written my dissertation on the effects of Low Mass on Protestant theology (I doubt this would have been approved of though - the College is not that traditional); a veritable tour-de-force I reckon. Any comments as to a title?

If things go as I hope they do, however, I am going to read Classics - something infinitely more agreeable (and suitable for an Undergraduate degree) than Theology. In hindsight, the only things I was interested in were Church History, Historical Theology and Latin.

''Ecclesiastical'' Latin and Liturgy...

I don't hold Pope Urban VIII (A.D 1568-1644) in very high esteem, but he was no idiot. He knew the Latin language inside out, and indeed composed some of his own hymns which, lamentably, in 1629 were incorporated into the Roman Breviary. I find it astounding that in this respect he did not conform to the old Roman tradition but to an absurd, pseudo-Classical Latinity, which is of course not traditional but a gross anachronism (what on earth does Olympus have to do with the Faith?!), aimed at meeting his own tastes, and the general taste of his age. Are these the early signs of aggiornamento, which Tolkien said in 1963 was fraught with danger? He had the aid of four Jesuits, a small committee. I think that Jesuits and Liturgy have seldom got on precisely because of the unique apostolate of this Counter-Reformation Order - reciting the Office alone on Mission, saying Low Mass alone, again on Mission. Liturgy should never have become a solitary act (as a missionary Order, I like the idea of the Jesuits, a well-trained, highly intelligent Order of Priests - shame it never really worked out in the end. I have met one good Jesuit in my life, and know of one other), and despite all the ''theology'' you might try to scaffold around Low Mass, all the choirs of Angels rejoicing in the Sacrifice celebrated by a lonely priest etc, Liturgy is supposed to mirror the Heavenly liturgy as much as possible in a tangible way - for example, the presence of Sacred Ministers, a liturgical choir, incense, servers etc. Low Mass falls short of this. Anyway, I digress as usual. These hymns are entirely repugnant to the liturgical Tradition of the Roman Rite and represent yet more Papal interference in the florid sequence of liturgical growth. Did Urban VIII spurn the kind of Latin used by St Ambrose, St Augustine and St Leo the Great? Surely you agree that using Papal authority to alter the Liturgy is an abuse?

Of the Breviary reform of Urban VIII, that great and erudite scholar Fr Adrian Fortescue had this to say: ''No one who knows anything about the subject now doubts that the revision of Urban VIII was a ghastly mistake, for which there is not one single word of any kind to be said.'' (Adrian Fortescue, Concerning Hymns, p.37). Luckily those who were exempt from the revision, taking advantage of the antiquity of their own liturgical books, avoided the new Breviary (the Benedictines, the Cistercians, the Dominicans etc), and one good thing, coming out of Vatican II as a rose from a dung-heap, is that the older hymns were brought back. This is not to say, however, that I approve of the liturgia horarum.

While we're on the subject, let's say a few words about the correct pronunciation of Latin. I learned Classical Latin, and certainly it is more traditional to pronounce Latin in the Classical way. It was only under Pius X that the Italian way was imposed on the Universal Church - another example of Papal authority going beyond its constraints. You don't honestly think that some parish priest in England circa 1150 pronounced Latin as they did in the Papal court? There is every reason not to pronounce Latin in the Italian fashion; it just goes against the grain in Northern Europe. I would personally argue from both an historical and aesthetic perspective. An example: which sounds nicer? Sancta Caecilia, ora pro nobis [Classical style: sanc-ta kai-keel-ia, ora pro no-bees], or Sancta Caecilia, ora pro nobis [''ecclesiastical'' fashion: sanc-ta chae-chee-lee-a, ora pro no-bees].

But to what extent would this affect Sacred Music I wonder?...

Traddies...

Last week I was advised to remove a comment I had made vis-à-vis Traditionalists. Since I did not know (and still in fact do not know) how to delete a comment on Blogger, I deleted the whole post. I have now re-published the text of that post since I believe what I said was good and true. Many of you may find it strange for me to say: ''I am not a Traditionalist.'' I used to be one - that is, when I ''converted'' to the Old Rite in the days before Summorum Pontificum. I have since moved on from that hopeless and utterly spurious state - a state which cannot remain a permanent feature of the Church - because I think Traditionalists are boring (yes I know you were expecting some profound reason but there isn't an underlying one reason - just lots of little things which I will not elaborate). What, therefore, is young Patricius? That remains for another post, which I shall write when I can be bothered. Comments will be published as normal.

I was in two minds about whether or not to actually publish this post, which many of you may find disagreeable, but two things have happened to change my mind this evening. You understand that I write not with my readers in mind. I write because I enjoy writing, and hope that my efforts redound to the greater glory of God. A friend of mine counselled me recently to be mindful of ''politics'' whenever I write posts for this blog (at least posts of this sort). While I do not spurn this counsel, I feel supremely confident in the insignificance of this blog to say what I feel like anyway, plus if something has to be said, then it must be said. I have, afterall, been known to ''tell it how it is'', as the saying goes...

I am not a ''traditionalist'' Catholic, whatever that means. Such a spurious label carries with it a heap of unfortunate connotations, and many sentiments, which I repudiate. I shall try to explain these in due course. I am a simple Catholic, and a Hobbit, living and worshipping according to the traditional Roman Rite (at least, whenever this is possible), in the North-west of Middle-earth. I have an interest in Liturgy, the rubrics and the history thereof, and the Latin language. Nothing much else really. I find ''traditionalist'' Catholics irksome. I mean those who fondly suppose that they reverence Tradition and yet accept every innovation coming out of Rome (every decision of the Sacred Congregation of Rites, for example, even if these decisions go against liturgical orthopraxis) out of blind obedience and without any qualms whatsoever. I despair when I ask such people what some idiot in the S.R.C knows about Liturgy. Most ''traditionalists'' are ignorant of most of the changes anyway, and many stupidly confuse novelty with tradition. I laughed bitterly when last year I saw a ''traditional mass'' advertised somewhere for the feast of San Giuseppe Communista! What annoys me is why ''traditionalists'' who blindly accept novelty (what do the Scriptures say? They exchanged the Word of God for a lie...) do not question it. Why was this Feast moved? Why was that Octave abolished? Why were Folded Chasubles, an ancient and Roman tradition, done away with? In fact, why has Liturgy been entirely rewritten with complete disregard for the rest of Church history? Etc, etc...I could go on, but it would be as long and tedious as years of torment. Acceptance of such changes is not the catholic thing to do, and this is not my opinion. You must understand that I do not have opinions...

This is not all strictly true though. Some ''traditionalists'' do at least question the decisions, but are too spineless (is this too harsh a word?) to admit that the decisions were wrong, and fundamentally so. Does it really go against the grain that much to admit that Rome can in fact err, as can Popes? My understanding of the Petrine office (of which I am 100% convinced, by the way) is that Infallibility applies only to matters of Doctrine. I just think that some notorious 20th century Popes, mad with power, took this too literally, and began to tamper with things that are infinitely above them, and their office as pastor, not lord; guardian, not arbiter. Therefore, decisions of Popes about Liturgy in the 20th century should be taken as much notice of as if the Pope solemnly declared after a Papal High Mass that his Sunday roast was good for the Salvation of souls. Perhaps it behoves Pope Benedict XVI, a man I love and respect deeply, to draw up some sort of Magna Carta for future Popes telling them what they cannot do. The first item would have to be: ''You know nothing about Liturgy, so leave it well alone.''

A Traddy (we'll call them this for convenience - ''traditionalist'' is a bit of a mouthful, and a nuisance to type) once told me that my attitude to the New Rite was ''wrong'' - why is it wrong? I just see the New Rite for what it is, and avoid it like the plague, since it is strange, crooked, utterly removed from Liturgy, and pernicious. It's rotten, rotten to the core, and no amount of ''reform of the reform'' is going to improve it, so why do people bother about it? If you wilfully attend the New Rite, and actually like doing so, you are not ''traditional'' at all, you just see Liturgy as just one of many choices in the cafeteria of modern Catholicism - and this boils down to that great enemy of the Church today, namely, relativism. The New Rite is not equal in dignity, eld and status to the Old Rite, as though attending and assisting at one is just as good as attending the other. The Old Rite is infinitely greater than the New Rite, the validity of which I would seriously call into question were the dictates of my Faith not nagging me about that all the time. You can thank the Scholastics for that.

Another Traddy once called my aversion to Low Mass ''untraditional.'' Again, why am I being ''untraditional'' for seeing Low Mass as an abridged, meeting-the-bare-requirements, boring form of Liturgy? High Mass is more traditional than Low Mass, and far older, and no serious historian of Liturgy would find this objectionable. I met an old man at a Liturgy conference 2/3 years ago (I won't be going to any of those again, at least not any organised by any ''traditionalist'' group), who was nice and genuine, but genuine also in error, and blamed all liturgical woes on Vatican II and seemed to think that High Mass developed from Low Mass! This was too much for me and I walked away. You would think that for someone old enough to have witnessed all changes from Pius XII onwards would be a tad more aware. However, I do not blame people for not knowing about the changes, just for acting as if they do. I'm sick of this now so I shall leave it at that - just letting off steam, don't you know! I have a tendency to ''build things up'' silently and then explode. I hope the damage isn't too great...

PS: Amusingly, I thought of writing a children's horror story today. It would begin: ''Once upon a time, there was a bad old Pope called Pius...''

Some pedantry...

Time for some pedantry I think. Two things: in my last post, I said that ''the solita oscula was not omitted'' among the Russians on Good Friday. How stupid of me! since solita oscula is neuter plural (it was a typo, owing to poor editing). It would be good, presuming readers own a 1983 Code of Canon Law (I own both the 1983 Code and the traditional Code, which I find more ''agreeable'' - inasmuch as I find the ''codification'' of Canon Law ''agreeable,'' that is - another Pacelli novelty, although he was in 1917 merely an underling - as an aside, I wonder whether his later mutilation of Liturgy, reversing the ancient Lex Orandi, had anything to do with his formation in Canon Law?), to look up Canon 249...

Also, speaking to a young man recently about Liturgy, he mentioned the ''pre-1955'' Rites of Holy Week. I feel compelled to clarify: Maxima Redemptionis was not promulgated until November of 1955, ergo Holy Week 1955 would have been in the Old Rite (except in modernist churches where the experimental 1952 Paschal Vigil was being...''experimented'' I suppose). And so it is more accurate to speak of pre-1956.

Patricius is going to write a ''clarifying'' post in defence of his own Catholicism. I think perhaps that some think I am slightly less than Catholic because I repudiate novelty, can't stand Traditionalists and have no qualms about criticising people, even Popes. I still haven't finished my campaign against Traditionalism and Low Mass, but perhaps during the Paschal Octave charity must pervade and righteous wrath be set at naught...

Dominica Resurrectionis...

A very happy Easter to all my readers! I wish you all the blessings, both temporal and spiritual, in the Risen Lord in this most exquisite Paschaltide. I have returned from a very decent Triduum, although I am very tired because of it - travelling around incessantly, standing, kneeling etc for long, in some cases very long, liturgies, and despite not having fasted per se (I twice had lunch in the pub, but I thought I'd benefit more from the energy rather than fasting and then fainting at some point), I was starving hungry for most of it. I had time in the end to attend Pontifical Mattins and Lauds among the Russians but decided against going, both because I was physically exhausted and because a friend offered me a lift home, which I gratefully accepted. I overslept this morning!

Anyway, enough about my health. Unfortunately I am not able to give a full account of the days, for two reasons. I do not know enough about Eastern Liturgy to do so, and...well, when we get to it in the Synopsis of the Narn i Chîn Húrin, imagine the return of the brothers Húrin and Huor to their father Galdor in Dor-lómin...

I noticed, on Good Friday at the Russian Cathedral, many oddities compared with traditional Western Liturgy. A host of Alleluias (but then, I think the Alleluia was only suppressed during Lent and Passiontide in the West in the 11th century - which is, incidentally, something I approve of - it adds a certain rhythm to the liturgical cycle of prayer, rejoicing in good season, silence in times of penance), many people were making the Sign of the Cross in the real traditional way, that is, signing oneself with the index and middle fingers, representing the Two Natures in Christ, and with the ring and little fingers joined to the thumb, rather than the modern Greek praxis of joining the index and middle fingers to the thumb. I do this myself, except I do it according to the Western order - from left to right rather than right to left. You see this fashion in traditional Iconography, and in Western statues of Our Lord imparting blessing. The vestments were exquisite, although in the dim light the colour could not easily be determined (although the Easterners do not really have a system of liturgical ''colours'' as in the West), and present were two Bishops, the Protodeacon incensing the image of the Lord constantly, four priests (gathered around the two Bishops like pluvialistae around the Celebrant at Vespers during the Chapter), two taper-bearers (? I think this is what they were; they were bearing those triple candles and standing either side of the image of our Crucified Lord), and a young server. The solita oscula was not omitted when handing things to and taking them from the Bishop...I am being ignorant, confessedly, but these small things make me prefer traditional Western Liturgy even more. Eastern Liturgy changes little throughout the year (except the Readings), and I like the changes that happen in the Western liturgical year, in tempora opportuno etc.

My parents are both at work today, so I have been on my own since I got in from Mass, but the day has been lovely so far. I much prefer the Vidi Aquam to the Asperges. I am going now to have some well-deserved (I think I deserve it anyway) repose, reading, catch up on various things etc. Back to work Tuesday...sigh...