Singulare Ingenium

New Blog...

2010-05-24T16:02:00.003+01:00

I have started a new blog - Liturgiae Causa - if anyone is interested. Follow the link to have a look. I haven't finished tinkering about with the blog template and I still need to add new posts but I have been unwell over this extremely hot weekend and have only just found the time. I hope you enjoy reading it!

Good counsel?

2010-04-13T15:26:00.003+01:00

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...

2010-04-12T00:12:00.002+01:00

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...

St Leo...well almost...

2010-04-10T16:42:00.003+01:00

At odd times in my life I am reminded of passages from The Lord of the Rings which may (or may not) be loosely connected. I had planned on writing a post about one of my personal favourite Popes, St Leo I (there is a commemoration of the holy Pope, Confessor and Doctor in Lauds and Mass), but I think instead of wasting my time on something which is just going to be badly written, and which I daresay will not tell anyone anything they don't already know, I am going instead to actually read some of his work (in Latin), which I have neglected for far too long.

The passage I had in mind was: '''That's funny,' said Merry. 'Almost exactly what I felt myself; only, only well, I don't think I'll say any more,' he ended lamely.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book II, Chapter VII).

Politics...

2010-04-09T15:52:00.002+01:00

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...

2010-04-09T02:14:00.002+01:00

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...

2010-04-08T15:12:00.003+01:00

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...

2010-04-07T15:04:00.003+01:00

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...

2010-04-06T12:59:00.003+01:00

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...

2010-04-06T00:51:00.003+01:00

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...

2010-04-05T23:43:00.002+01:00

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...

2010-04-04T16:17:00.003+01:00

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...

Maxima Redemptionis...

2010-03-31T12:05:00.003+01:00

For those of you who are interested, the text of the General Decree of the S.R.C (a nasty wretched little oligarchy, staffed with idiots), Maxima Redemptionis, of November 1955, can be read on the new, highly useful, section of the Vatican official website, Acta Apostolicae Sedis. It can be found on pp. 838-847. The text is in Latin.

I post this now since after this I really will be away! Having failed my Lenten fast and other penances miserably, I shall endeavour with God's Grace to make up for this for the Sacred Triduum. I shall try to get to as much Liturgy as I am able, but one or two inconvenient things will prevent this. Maundy Thursday I shall be at the Russian Cathedral for Hours and Vesperal Liturgy of St Basil. Unfortunately I cannot attend Mattins of the Passion (complete with twelve Gospel pericopes) since I shall be elsewhere in the afternoon. On Good Friday morning I shall be among the Greeks at Moscow Road for Hours and Vespers of the Un-nailing. If I have time, I shall pay a visit to the Armenians at Kensington for the solemn Burial of the Cross. Then elsewhere for the rest of Good Friday. Holy Saturday morning I shall again be among the Russians for Hours and Vesperal Liturgy (with fifteen Prophecies) and then in the evening I shall return home (that is, Westwards) for the Paschal Vigil. Unfortunately I won't be able to attend Pontifical Mattins and Lauds of the Resurrection, as I greatly desired, this year, owing to yet more unfortunate circumstances.

In the meantime, I am off to Tenebrae. Unfortunately the Psalms for Lauds will be incorrect, but you can thank Pius X for that...
I wish all readers a blessed Triduum and every blessing for the Paschal season. Dominus det vobis suam pacem in osculo amoris; habete, me, precor, in orationibus vestris in hoc tempore, quia misericordia Iesu indigeo, et familiam meam. Laus sit Domino nostro Crucifixo, qui de Cruce regnat. Valete.

Which is more catholic?

2010-03-30T13:09:00.005+01:00

I have added this blog to my Blogroll: Ex Fide, the blog of an ''enthusiastic'' Anglo-Catholic. I was alerted to their liturgically exquisite Palm Sunday Liturgy by both Fr Hunwicke and Rubricarius. Do also have a look at the preview of their Black Folded Chasubles. I can't say I approve much of Anglicans, and I find Anglo-Catholics very strange indeed (Tolkien couldn't stand them), but I feel compelled to ask: which is more ''catholic'' - a parish church in schism with the liturgical history and traditions of its See (i.e; almost every Catholic parish church in the world), or a parish church legally in schism with Rome, but with more liturgical sense than Rome? This is not so complex a question as you might think. All you need to do is get ideas of ''validity'' and externals out of your head. Since, according to the lex orandi, ceremony and liturgy are the factors that determine what one believes, ceremonial, passed down by an unbroken and living Tradition, certainly uninterrupted by liturgists and popes, surely the Anglo-Catholics at St Magnus the Martyr are more catholic than most who profess to be Catholics? To quietly go on accepting novelty, to me, indicates a fundamental flaw in one's acceptance of Truth and Liturgy, and is also indicative of a rather slovenly approach to Liturgy (and therefore God). To cut a long story short, it means you accept violence against Liturgy as acceptable, and indeed praiseworthy, because Rome says so...would that traditional priests in the '50s and '60s, not bowed down by Ultramontanism, had said: ''I don't care what Rome said, I am observing the Octave.'' What does St Thomas Aquinas say about obedience to one's superiors again? In all things but sin?

Perhaps the Lord vouchsafes to send the Holy Ghost down upon the Altars of those legally in schism with Rome, and ignores those pseudo-Catholics who obliquely recite the Nicene Creed at New Rite services (I cannot bring myself to call it liturgy, it's so far removed from that), not believing a single word of it, every Sunday, use ''Eucharistic Prayer III'' and enjoy shaking eachothers' hands? I would have no qualms at all about attending St Magnus the Martyr over such a church - at least St Magnus has Liturgy. In all honesty, I wonder whether Anglo-Catholics are all that interested in Anglicanorum Coetibus. I am sure they look around Rome and see all the similar signs as they see in their own schismatic church, liberals here, modernists there, plus a host of vegetarians, homosexuals, climate-change fanatics, women-getting-above-themselves etc. All this, plus Traditionalism, is because of the collapse of Traditional Liturgy. For this very reason Anglicanorum Coetibus might end up being another has-been, a fruitless effort by Rome to pick the pieces up after the damages wrought by Low Mass, Ultramontanism and Bugninis...but one can hope still.

Two Tolkien snippets...on '62...

2010-03-28T22:36:00.002+01:00

While Tolkien's (published) works contain few references to the Liturgy, there are a few gems if you look closely. I have already posted some of these; these latest are simply applicable. Rubricarius of The St Lawrence Press has, in his post for Palm Sunday, written a rightfully scathing, and honest, comparison between the Old Rite and the Extraordinary Form of the New Rite. Read it here. For the Tridentine praxis, which is ceremonially identical, see here. It's even worse than the usual story of omissions here, alterations there; practically the whole ceremony has been mutilated.

Reading about Palm Sunday rather put me in mind of a passage from The Lord of the Rings (which I have not read yet this year, no wonder I feel like I'm forgetting things). See if you can see where I'm coming from:

''At last, on the fifth morning since they took the road with Gollum, they halted once more. Before them dark in the dawn the great mountains reached up to roofs of smoke and cloud. Out from their feet were flung huge buttresses and broken hills that were now at the nearest scarce a dozen miles away. Frodo looked round in horror. Dreadful as the Dead Marshes had been, and the arid moors of the Noman-lands, more loathsome far was the country that the crawling day now slowly unveiled to his shrinking eyes. Even to the Mere of Dead Faces some haggard phantom of green spring would come; but here neither spring nor summer would ever come again. Here nothing lived, not even the leprous growths that feed on rottenness. The gasping pools were choked with ash and crawling muds, sickly white and grey, as if the mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the lands about. High mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire-blasted and poison-stained, stood like an obscene graveyard in endless rows, slowly revealed in the reluctant light.

''They had come to the desolation that lay before Mordor: the lasting monument to the dark labour of its slaves that should endure when all their purposes were made void; a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing - unless the Great Sea should enter in and wash it with oblivion. 'I feel sick,' said Sam. Frodo did not speak.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book IV, Chapter II).

This next passage comes from The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, oddly enough, from the late 1950s. On 8th April 1958, Tolkien had written to Rayner Unwin, his publisher, about negotiations of the proposed film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien's criticism is highly pertinent if you would like an idea of what he'd think of the Peter Jackson trilogy. He complains that ''Morton Grady Zimmerman'' [...I know...], the man who composed the synopsis and ''story-line'' (a term Tolkien didn't seem to understand) had not in fact read The Lord of the Rings and had composed a bad synopsis based upon confused memories, with few references to the original story, and with constant mistakes (getting names wrong - or even misplacing them: Radagast becomes an Eagle, for instance. I wonder if Mr Jackson suffered this slovenly malady when he was making his film trilogy, now almost a decade old? In one of the completely made-up scenes from The Two Towers, you see a village of Rohan being attacked by Orcs, or Wild-men from Dunland (I forget - it's probably Orcs since Jackson sometimes conveniently forgets the existence of evil Men), and a mother admonishing her son and daughter to ride to the king's courts at Edoras. The horse's name appears to be Gárulf, which is rather a strange name for an horse (it is Anglo-Saxon for ''spear-wolf''), and in the Book was a man of Éomer's éored, who was sent to intercept the company of Saruman's Orcs returning to Isengard...very strange). Anyway, in the next letter in this series of The Letters, Tolkien writes to Forrest J. Ackerman (the film company rep) and goes through Zimmerman's story-line bit by bit. Unfortunately, only a portion of the original survives into The Letters (I'd love to see the original), but even this is very interesting (and amusing - in the previous letter, Tolkien had promised to be reticent - if this is reticence, then I'm a Dwarf!).

The conclusion of this letter is most delightful. See what you think:

''Part III....is totally unacceptable to me, as a whole and in detail. If it is meant as notes only for a section of something like the pictorial length of I and II, then in the filling out it must be brought into relation with the book, and its gross alterations of that corrected. If it is meant to represent only a kind of short finale, then all I can say is: The Lord of the Rings cannot be garbled like that.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, no 210).

Post omission...

2010-03-28T15:46:00.002+01:00

I was counselled earlier to delete a comment I wrote following a post on Traditionalists. I am not sure how Blogger does that so I have deleted the whole post instead. I doubt I shall post anything for the duration of Holy Week. I am ''going East'' for much of Holy Week (what does that say about the modern Catholic Church, when one is obliged to attend a schismatic church for more appropriate Liturgy? Don't let's worry though; Modernists and pseudo-traddies will one day smell the brimstone), and for much of it I shall be too tired to post anything anyway.

I shall return, Lord willing, on Easter Sunday...

Narn i Chîn Húrin, the Intro...

2010-03-27T16:10:00.003Z

We come now to the longest of the great Lays about the Elder Days, the Narn i Chîn Húrin, or The Tale of the Children of Húrin. Incidentally, ''chîn'' is pronounced ''k-heen;'' you'll find in Unfinished Tales (the book from which I first read the tale in prose) the rather curious spelling ''Hîn'' - this was an editorial decision of Christopher Tolkien, which he later regretted, to prevent people from pronouncing the word like the modern English ''chin.'' I am not going to blog from The Silmarillion but rather from the recently published (well, if you count 2007 as recent) The Children of Húrin, which is far more detailed and coherent. When I brought this book, in the hardback first edition (with beautiful illustrations by Alan Lee), I was amazed that Tolkien was still being published in my lifetime (the 12 Volume The History of Middle-earth series was published by Christopher Tolkien from 1984-1996, but I was too young to remember those - or even if I could remember them, too young at any rate to appreciate them - they are very scholarly)!

First, I think we should establish some dates, something I have neglected too much in my hopelessly long synopsis of these days. The Narn is essentially the story of Túrin Turambar and his sister Nienor, the children of Húrin and Morwen. According to the Grey Annals Túrin was born ''in the winter of the year'', ''with omens of sorrow;'' that is, the 464th year after the first rising of the Sun, nine years after Morgoth broke the Siege of Angband in the Dagor Bragollach. The Nirnaeth Arnoediad took place in the spring of the 472nd year, when Túrin was 8 years old...I expect this sets the scene so far, if I think any more dates are required, I'll insert them in somewhere.

Even more Traddies...

2010-03-26T14:12:00.002Z

More questions about Catholic ''traditionalism''...Traddies are fond of Pope Benedict XVI (as am I, I think he is a very pious and erudite man), but are they not overly fond of him? They go on and on about Summorum Pontificum, even dubbing it the Motu Proprio (as if it were the only one in Church history!), and celebrate the '62 Rite merrily ''because the Pope says so''...maybe I am being rather fickle in thinking that since when did you need the Pope's permission to celebrate Mass? Personally, I am not in favour of Summorum Pontificum. Not only does it say nothing about the Old Rite (the Holy Father does go through a succession of Popes, beginning with Gregory the Great, and he mentions the Missal of Pius V in passing, but it's all about '62), but it also espouses a kind of pseudo, hitherto unfounded in the Latin West, ''theology'' of Liturgy, manifested in the distinction the Holy Father makes between the so-called forma extraordinaria and forma ordinaria of the Roman Rite. There should be no such distinction. The New Rite should not be the ''Ordinary form'' of the Church's lex orandi; it should not exist at all; it is in fact the bane of my life. I am afraid that I must re-echo the sentiments of Andrew Cameron-Mowat (Professor of Liturgy at Heythrop College): that there can be only one Roman Rite in the Catholic Church - the different ''expressions'' of this one Roman Rite being determined by legitimate local (national, diocesan, even parochial) custom. Where I disagree with him is that this one Roman Rite should be the Old Roman Rite, as it has been celebrated and honoured in the West since the most ancient days. This alone should be reason enough to celebrate the Old Rite. Summorum Pontificum is just another example of Papal interference in Liturgy.

This is not to say that I completely repudiate Summorum Pontificum, like so many liberal vegetarian homosexual teetotalers. I think there is only one benefit to Summorum Pontificum, and this is far over-shadowed by it's downsides: it has (''legitimately'' at any rate, not that Canon Law has much to do with Liturgy) freed the Old Mass, and does limit the power of liberal episcopal interference, but even this is barbed because this ''benefit'' is stimulated by an already false notion of Papal authority over Liturgy. What Summorum Pontificum has in fact done is relativised the Liturgy, made Liturgy subjective to preference, this preference being legitimised by the Pope himself! In pre-Summorum Pontificum days (which I remember well, unlike most modern Traddies - I was attending the Old Rite long before Summorum Pontificum), in the days when most Traditionalists were traditional, you went to the Old Rite and that was it - some with strong stomachs went to the New Rite on Sundays, but I had nothing to do with it. These days, in the days of the ''Extraordinary Form'', Catholics ''prefer'' (instead of repudiate) one ''expression'' of the lex orandi to the other. My attitude towards the New Rite was stupidly called ''wrong'' by a Traddie simply because I said that the New Rite was made-up liturgy. However, surely even to ''prefer'' one ''expression'' to the other means that you at least subconsciously think that there is something wrong with one?

I am being rushed off the family computer now so this post is going to end miserably since my thought has been disrupted. I hope I have demonstrated (baldly, I'll admit) the dangers of Ultramontanism and Liturgy. It is a great monster don't you know. As Faramir said of Minas Tirith: the Church is not a mistress of slaves, even a kind mistress of willing slaves. Apropos, Summorum Pontificum is inherently flawed, and you won't find this sort of post on the blog of any Traditionalist...

The realm of Sauron is ended!

2010-03-25T11:55:00.003Z

Happy Feast day all. The 25th March is a very significant day, not only in the infinite dimensions of our Redemption, but also for Tolkien. It is also believed (by some, I don't know enough to comment) to be the actual date of Our Lord's Crucifixion. You may remember that 25th March was the day on which the One Ring was destroyed; you may also remember that the day on which the Fellowship set out from Rivendell was 25th December. Presumptuous though it may seem for one so blackened by sin to comment upon the Incarnation, I venture to say that I am eternally grateful to God. I'm sorry I couldn't come up with some fantastic and insightful post today, but I am just an instrument. What I would recommend, though, is reading Stratford Caldecott's chapter A very great story, The Lord of the Rings, in his book Secret Fire. He compares the heroic virtues of Frodo (showed forth in weakness and humility rather than the more conventional heroes of legend) to Christ in many more ways than I could have imagined. This quote from The Field of Cormallen will have to suffice:

'''Lo! lords and knights and men of valour unashamed, kings and princes, and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and ye sons of Elrond, and Dúnedain of the North, and Elf and Dwarf, and greathearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom.'

''And when Sam heard that he laughed aloud for sheer delight, and he stood up and cried: 'O great glory and splendour! And all my wishes have come true!' And then he wept.

''And all the host laughed and wept, and in the midst of their merriment and tears the clear voice of the minstrel rose like silver and gold, and all men were hushed. And he sang to them, now in the Elven-tongue, now in the speech of the West, until their hearts, wounded with sweet words, overflowed, and their joy was like swords, and they passed in thought out to regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book VI, Chapter IV, The Field of Cormallen).

Art: Ted Nasmith. It depicts the end of Sauron's realm and his great shadow, rising up in towers of gloom, terrifying but impotent. Upon Gandalf, however, no shadow fell.

More ''traddies''...

2010-03-24T22:42:00.002Z

A question...does liturgical complacency, that is, willingness to stupidly accept novelty alongside tradition as two things that can co-exist in a comfortable relativistic fudge (in other words, any difference there might be between Old and New Rite doesn't matter, since they are ''two forms of the same Roman Rite'' - this includes '62 of course) entail a moral or an intellectual suicide, or both?

This constitutes my first objection to ''Catholic Traditionalism'' - other such questions will follow soon...

Sycophants...

2010-03-24T12:11:00.002Z

Someone asked me once what I would do if I had met J.R.R Tolkien; say he turned up at my front door, or I was a Postgraduate doing a thesis on some aspect of English Language and he was my tutor. The answer is I would probably do absolutely nothing. As with many people I admire, I would treat him no different to the way I treat my postman (who is, incidentally, a very erudite and generous man), my parish priest or the Queen. I do not tend to recognise social distinctions or merit (although, confessedly, I do look down my nose on social climbers, who are generally Middle Class, and low lives whose general manner I find disgusting), and as much as I adore Tolkien's work and think he was the brightest man of the 20th century (he had more liturgical sense than all 20th century Popes combined, not that he was a ''trained liturgist''), I would certainly not fawn over him like so many sycophants. Naturally, with people of varying degrees of intelligence, I talk to them about different things (this is self-evident, but I am hardly going to discuss the intricacies of Latin grammar with someone I work with), but this is besides the point. With Tolkien, I think our conversation would be restricted to the Latin language, or some aspect of the Faith (I do not know enough about Anglo-Saxon or pre-Conquest literature). Had I known him in the '50s and the '60s, I would certainly be interested in what he had to say about Rome and Liturgy. I think such a conversation would last half an hour at most, and then I would go about my business. In all honesty, I am not that interested in people much.

What I cannot stand, however, is sycophancy, and sycophants. You probably know the sort: a conceited, arrogant type, who looks down their nose on everyone who is not perceived to be that ''important'', and who is all over ''important'' people - authors of books, lecturers, ''celebrities'' etc. Frankly, I find it disgusting. I think I could have as much of an interesting discussion with a tramp (not all of whom are drunk and lazy bums; I met a tramp outside the National Gallery some years ago who had led an interesting and varied life, and was clearly very well educated. His wife had died, and he couldn't cope) as with anyone else; the only real difference between the tramp and the author is the tragedy of the tramp's circumstances. On the Day of Judgement, we shall all fair alike...cum vix iustus sit securus...

The aftermath of the Battle...

2010-03-24T10:22:00.004Z

Great was the triumph of Morgoth, and his victory was achieved in a manner after his own heart; for Men took the lives of Men, and betrayed the Eldar, and fear and hatred were aroused among those who should have been united against him. In those days, the hearts of the Elves were estranged from Men, save those of the Three Houses.

The kingdom of Fingon was no more, and the Sons of Fëanor, bereft of their power of old, wandered as waifs of the wood and mingled with the lesser silvan Elves. In Brethil, few of the people of Haleth dwelt yet in the protection of the woods, and Handir was their lord; but to Hithlum came back none of Fingon's host, nor any Man of Hador's House, but Morgoth sent hither the vile Easterlings, denying them the rich lands of Beleriand which they desired, and he shut them in the cold lands, and forbade them to ever leave it. Such was their reward for their service to Morgoth. The remnant of the Eldar of Hithlum, save some few who hid themselves, were taken to Angband and were there enthralled, although some escaped the mines and wandered hopelessly in the wild.

The Orcs and wolves went throughout all the North freely, even as far as Nan Tathren, and none were safe in field or wild. Doriath, secure by the Girdle of enchantment set there by Melian almost five hundred years before, of course remained, as did Nargothrond, but Morgoth troubled not about them, either knowing little of them or because their time had not yet come within the dark designs of his mind. Many fled Beleriand in those days, some to dwell with Círdan's people at the Havens, some fled eastwards beyond the Blue Mountains into Eriador. But in the following year, Morgoth sent great strength over Hithlum and Nevrast, and coming down the rivers Brithon and Nenning, they ravaged all the shoreland regions and besieged the walls of Brithombar and Eglarest. Smiths, miners and masters of fire they brought with them, and valiantly though their onslaught was stayed, in the end they broke the walls down and destroyed the Havens, and most of Círdan's people were enslaved or slain. Some went aboard ship and escaped by sea, and among them were Ereinion Gil-galad, son of Fingon, and this remnant sailed with Círdan to the Isle of Balar, and there they made a refuge for all that could come, keeping still a well-hidden foothold among the reeds of Sirion's mouth.

When Turgon, High King of the Gnomes, heard of these things he sent messengers to the Mouths of Sirion who besought the aid of Círdan the Shipwright. At the bidding of Turgon Círdan built seven ships, and they sailed into the West to beg the clemency of the Valar upon the sorrows of the Elves, but they came never back, save one. The mariners of this ship toiled long in the sea, and despairing turned back, and at last they foundered in a great storm within sight of the shores of Beleriand, but one was saved by Ulmo, who cast him ashore at Nevrast. His name was Voronwë.

By the command of Morgoth the Orcs with great labour piled all the bodies of the slain with their weapons and livery in Anfauglith into a great mound, and it was like a hill seen from afar. Haudh-en-Ndengin it was named by the Elves, the Hill of the Slain, and grass came to grow there after a while, alone in all the dust of that plain, and thereafter no creature of Morgoth dared to tread there, where the swords of the Eldar and the Edain crumbled into rust.

Art: Ted Nasmith. It depicts Rían, the wife of Huor (who was slain with a poisoned arrow in the eye in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad), standing before the Hill of the Slain.

Visitations...

2010-03-21T16:26:00.002Z

Fr Hunwicke, the Anglican clergyman from Oxford, has once again spoken with more sense than many who are accounted ''traditional'' in the Catholic blogosphere. See here for his succinct post on the Apostolic visitations and the Papacy. He is very right about the Papacy you know. While I uphold the dignity of local churches over nasty little oligarchies (S.R.Cs and Consiliums) and tyrants (bad Popes), Fr Hunwicke rightly says that these Apostolic visitations are exactly what are needed because this is what the Papacy is for - to strengthen and encourage the brethren, to discipline those who are clearly at fault, to depose, to excommunicate etc. We often forget St Paul's connexion to the Papacy, but I fail to see why; whenever a Feast of St Peter is celebrated, there are Prayers also to God through St Paul...

A tragedy...

2010-03-20T17:32:00.003Z

I was speaking to a friend of mine recently about the tragedy of practicing Catholics coming from a secular family. When they die, and they have not specifically indicated their funeral arrangements in a will or however those things work, naturally the funeral arrangements are left to the secular family, who may have a deep-seated contempt for the Faith, or who may simply (and this is most likely to be the case) not know the first thing about Catholic funerals. What follows will depend upon how much or little they know, the discretion and prudence of the priest (if there is one - the secular, and therefore stupid, family may not even organise a Requiem Mass) and other circumstances. My grandfather had this problem when he died in 2001. My grandfather, a man who took pride in the fact that he had not missed a single Sunday Mass in his life, was sent to his long home to the sound of All Things Bright and Beautiful. I have seen far worse than this at a funeral, but I came away afterwards (I was 13 at the time, and then knew merely the rudiments of Liturgy) feeling very sour for my grandfather. He was also cremated, specifically against his wishes.

Why do I get the feeling that when I die (which could well be tomorrow, or later today, to be grim) this is exactly what will happen to me? Yea more...mine is the sort of family that, knowing my liturgical orthodoxy, would (out of sheer spite) just go to any Modernist priest and have a New Rite requiem with 1970s hymns gallore, and a sort of ''prayer service'' at the crematorium afterwards...that is if they do this much for me. It is necessary to think how far hatred can go...

Nirnaeth Arnoediad...

2010-03-19T15:22:00.003Z

On the appointed day of the battle, on the morning of Midsummer, the trumpets of the Eldar greeted the rising of the Sun, and eastwards was raised the standard of Fëanor; westwards the standard of Fingon, High King of the Gnomes. Fingon looked out from the walls of Eithel Sirion. His hosts were arrayed in the valleys and the woods upon the slopes of Ered Wethrin, concealed from the roving eye of Morgoth, and the host was very great for all the people of Hithlum were there assembled, as well as Elves from the Falas and Gwindor's company from Nargothrond, as well as a host of Men under the lordship of Húrin, and of Huor his brother, and to them were gathered also the Men of Brethil. And Fingon looked towards Thangorodim, and from those reeking towers there went up a black smoke, and he knew then that the wrath of Morgoth was aroused and their challenge accepted.

But doubt then pierced Fingon's heart, and he looked across Anfauglith, thinking so as to see the hosts of Maedhros. But he saw him not. He knew not that Maedhros was hindered by the treachery of Uldor, who deceived him with false warnings of assault from Angband.

But then a cry went up, and the hearts of Elves and Men were lifted in joy. For unsummoned and unlooked for Turgon, the Hidden King, had opened the leaguer of Gondolin and had come with a host ten thousands strong. And when Fingon beheld his brother, all doubt left him and he cried aloud: Utúlie'n aurë! Aiya Eldalië ar Atanatári, utúlie'n auré! (The day has come! Behold, people of the Eldar and Fathers of Men, the day has come!) And all those to whom that cry came answered: Auta i lómë! (The night is passing!).

But Morgoth, who knew much of the hidden counsels of the Gnomes, chose his hour to a nicety, and trusting to the treachery of the Easterlings, he sent a host seeming great (although only a tithe of his real might) towards Hithlum, showing no naked steel that their coming would not be marked until they were far afield. When they were seen, the hearts of the Gnomes grew hot, and many desired to assail the host, but Húrin spoke against this, bidding them ware the wiles of Morgoth, whose strength and purpose were always other than they seemed. But the signal of Maedhros came not, and many grew afraid and impatient, but still Húrin bade them wait, and to let the Orcs break in assault upon the hills.

But the Captain of Morgoth in the west had been commanded to draw out the hosts of Fingon at whatever cost, and so he marched his host to the edge of Sirion's stream, to the walls of Eithel Sirion and the outposts of Fingon could see the eyes of their enemies. But the taunting of the Orcs availed not to draw them out. And so the captain sent out riders with tokens of parley, bringing Gelmir son of Guilin with them (he was a lord of Nargothrond captured in the Dagor Bragollach and enslaved in Angband), and he had been blinded. The heralds showed him forth, crying: ''We have many more such at home, but you must make haste if you would find them; for we shall deal with them all when we return even so.'' And they hewed off Gelmir's hands and feet, and his head last, and left him.

By ill chance, Gwindor the brother of Gelmir saw this and now his wrath was kindled to madness, and he leapt upon horseback, and many riders with him, and they pursued the heralds and slew them and then drove on into the main host. And seeing this the Gnomes were set on fire and all leapt from the hills in sudden onslaught. So swift was this onslaught that almost the designs of Morgoth went astray, and before the host he had sent westward could be strengthened, it was destroyed, and the Gnomes passed even within the threshold of Angband and slew the guards, and Morgoth, hearing them beat upon his doors, trembled upon his deep throne. But the Gnomes were trapped there, and all were slain (save Gwindor, whom they took captive), and Fingon could not come to their aid. And then, by many secret doors from Angband, Morgoth sent forth his main host, and Fingon was driven back across Anfauglith with great loss.

And so on the fourth day of the battle was begun Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Unnumbered Tears. The host of Fingon was driven back over the sands, and Haldir, Lord of Brethil, was slain in the rearguard, and all his men about him. The Orcs surrounded the hosts of Hithlum and they fought all through the night. In the morning came hope, for Turgon was come with his host. The phalanx of the guard of the King broke through the ranks of the Orcs, and Turgon came to Fingon his brother and Húrin Thalion, and in that hour the trumpets of Maedhros were heard in the east, and the Orcs wavered and some were already turning to flight. But even as Maedhros came, and the Orcs fled the field, Morgoth sent forth all his strength and Angband was emptied. There came wolves and wolf-riders, and there came then Balrogs and dragons and Glaurung sire of dragons. The strength and terror of the Great Worm were then very great and Elves and Men withered before him. He came between the hosts of Fingon and Maedhros and divided them.

But Morgoth would not have won the day by the strength and terror of his demons alone, for in this hour the guile of the Easterlings was revealed. Many turned and fled, being filled with fear and lies, but some turned suddenly upon the hosts of Elves and Men and in the confusion that was wrought they came well-nigh to the standard of Maedhros. And in that hour new strength of the Easterlings came over the hills and assailed the hosts of Maedhros upon the east, who was now almost surrounded, and many fled. But fate saved the Sons of Fëanor, and gathering together the remnant of the Gnomes and Dwarves, they drove their way out of the battle and made east towards Mount Dolmed.

Last of all the eastern host to stand firm were the Dwarves of Belegost, for the Dwarves withstood fire and blast of sorcery more hardily than Men and Elves, moreover they wore great and hideous masks in battle. They made a circle about Glaurung and even his mighty armour was not full-proof against the blows of the axes of the Dwarves, and when in his rage Glaurung struck down Azaghâl, Lord of Belegost, and crawled over him, with his last breath Azaghâl drove a knife into the belly of the Dragon, so wounding him that he fled the field, and in dismay the beasts of Angband followed. Then the Dwarves raised up the body of their lord and bore it away, chanting a dirge as they went, and none dared withstand them.

In the western battle Fingon and Turgon were beset by a host of foes thrice greater than their own and Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, was come. He drove a dark wedge between the Elvenhosts, surrounding Fingon and thrusting Turgon and Húrin aside towards the Fen of Serech. Then he turned upon Fingon. At last, Fingon stood alone against Gothmog, his guard dead about him, and Gothmog beat him down into the dust, and his banner, blue and silver, he trod into the mire of his blood.

The field was lost to the hosts of Morgoth, but still in the west Húrin and Huor his brother stood strong alongside Turgon, now High King of the Gnomes, and the hosts of Morgoth could not yet win the Pass of Sirion. And Húrin bade Turgon go back to Gondolin and there lie hid, for thereby Morgoth would still know fear, and Huor added this doom: ''This I say to you, lord, with the eyes of death: though we part here for ever, and I shall not look on your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall arise. Farewell!'' Maeglin, Turgon's nephew, who was stood nearby, heard these words, and he did not forget them, but he said nothing. And so Turgon departed, gathering such remnants of his host as he could, and they returned to the mountains. But the Men of Dor-lómin would still not retreat, and the last stand of the Men of Dor-lómin redressed the treachery of Uldor.

The hosts of Morgoth swarmed against the Men of Dor-lómin, and Huor was slain with a venomed arrow in the eye. Last of all Húrin stood alone, and he cast aside his shield, and wielding a great axe he slew the troll-guard of Gothmog until the axe withered. Each time he slew an Orc he cried: Aurë entuluva! (Day shall come again!); seventy times he uttered that cry, but at last he was taken alive, for the Orcs grappled him, and their arms clung still to him though he hewed them off, until he was buried under them. Then Gothmog bound him and dragged him to Angband with mockery.

Thus ended Nirnaeth Arnoediad as the sun went down in the West. Night fell over the northern lands, and a great storm of wind came out of the West.

Art: Ted Nasmith. This painting depicts the battle of Fingon, High King of the Gnomes, with Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs.

Sancti Patricii...

2010-03-17T15:16:00.004Z

Happy Feast day all! St Patrick (c.387/388-493) is of course my Patron saint. I was going to be Patrick anyway, so said my father, but it was just a coincidence that I was born on the eve of his feast day. I like the name Patrck, or Patricius (pronounced pat-rik-i-us). St Patricius was a Romano-British aristocrat (a civilised barbarian, and hence the name), who naturally spoke Latin, and was captured by Irish pirates sometime in his youth. He escaped to Gaul, where he was ordained Deacon, and received prophetic dreams about the conversion of the Irish. He was sent to convert the Irish by Pope Celestine I (famous for excommunicating the heretic Nestorius), where he had many disciples.

I believe that England owes much of the Apostolic faith to the Irish. Naturally when St Augustine and his followers came to these shores there were already small Christian communities dotted about the Isle, and St Columba, that great Saint who converted the Picts, came from Derry. Ireland used to be a very Catholic country (even today, if you have the opportunity to visit Ireland, you can still see some of the most beautiful churches; in the South there are many roadside shrines to Our Lady, although in the militant North, where my family are from, you will see little of this beyond road curbs being painted green white and gold and a good many murals!), although something went horribly wrong somewhere, and I never shared the Irish preference for Low Mass. St Patrick never celebrated Low Mass of course...although what sort of Liturgy did he celebrate?

I wonder...is St Patrick to be accounted among of the Fathers of the Church? He is from the Patristic age, but I have never heard anyone refer to him (seriously that is, never mind about his Feast day) as one of the Fathers.

Birthdays...

2010-03-16T08:40:00.003Z

On this day 22 years ago I became a ''child of wrath'' you may be interested to know, so congratulations to me for reaching 22 and not having gone completely mad! In recent years, I have thought about why we celebrate our birthdays in relation to the Sanctorale and an interesting discrepancy comes up. Liturgically, only the Nativities of Our Lady and St John the Baptist, who were immaculately conceived and sanctified before birth by the Holy Ghost respectively (unless I am completely dull and have neglected to mention another important saint - Our Lord's Nativity naturally goes without question), are celebrated. All other saints, even some of the greatest, are celebrated on the days of their going to their parting this life (or where this is impeded, some other significant date).

Incidentally, 1988, the year of my birth, saw two ''interesting'' things religiously. This was the year of the dread consecrations by Archbishop Lefebvre, and also the year that Ian Paisley called the then Holy Father John Paul II the Antichrist to his face at the European Parliament! While going through periodicals in the Theology Library a while ago, I looked up March 1988 in The Tablet and found the date (19th March) nearest to my birthday. In that edition there was yet another attack on the then Cardinal Ratzinger, although I can't remember exactly what was said. I guess that this is nothing new...now that I think about it, that pious man in Rome must have been almost universally despised for most of his life...

Anyway enough ramblings from me...

UPDATE: I forgot to mention; my Profile Photograph was taken this time last year by a friend of mine. In the background are the University's shrine to Our Lady and behind that the Theology Library, where I was wont to spend happy hours doing lots of reading but little work...

The Union of Maedhros...

2010-03-15T13:22:00.002Z

It is told among the Eldar that Beren and Lúthien returned to the northern lands and dwelt together as living man and wife, and they went again into Doriath. Those that saw them were both glad and afraid, for Beren had returned as mortal Man from the Dead, but Lúthien healed the winter of Thingol's grief with the touch of her hand. But Melian, looking into her eyes, read the doom that had befallen her in the West and looked away, and never has there been such a grief of loss as befell Melian the Maia in that hour, for she knew then that a parting beyond the Circles of the World had come between them. And so, Beren and Lúthien went then alone to Tol Galen, the Green Isle in Ossiriand, and all tidings of them ceased. The Eldar named that land Dor Firn-i-Guinar, that is, The Land of the Dead that Live, and there was born Dior Eluchíl, the beautiful, and the heir of Thingol. Beren spoke no more with mortal Man, and none saw where the twain left the world, nor marked where their bodies lay.

In those days, Maedhros son of Fëanor, perceiving the wondrous deeds of Beren and Lúthien, lifted up his heart, for he saw that Morgoth was not unassailable. Yet he perceived also that Morgoth would smoke them all out one by one if they did not make common counsel and union, and so he began those plans for the raising of the fortunes of the Eldar which are called the Union of Maedhros. But the Oath of Fëanor and the evil deeds of that House wrought injury to his designs and he had less aid than should have been. Orodreth, lord of Nargothrond, would render no aid whatever to any Son of Fëanor (because of the deeds of Celegorm and Curufin), and for the most part the Gnomes of Nargothrond trusted still to maintain their domain by secrecy and hidden dart. However, Gwindor son of Guilin, remembering the Dagor Bragollach and the loss of his brother Gelmir, marched forth (against the will of Orodreth) beneath the banner of Fingon.

From Doriath came little aid, again because of the Oath. Maedhros had before sent messages to Thingol with haughty words reminding the woodland king of the Sons' claim to the Silmaril, summoning him to yield the holy jewel or become their enemy. Melian counselled the king to give it up, but Thingol, having become fast-bound to the Silmaril and mindful of the sufferings of Beren and Lúthien (and again because of the merciless deeds of Celegorm and Curufin). And so he sent messengers with scornful words to the Sons. Maedhros did not reply, being busy with counsels of war, but Celegorm and Curufin vowed openly to slay Thingol and destroy his kingdom if they returned victorious from the war and the Silmaril were not given up freely. And so Thingol fortified the confines of Doriath and none save Beleg and Mablung went forth to war. To them Thingol gave leave to go, so long as they marched under the banner of Fingon and served not the Sons of Fëanor.

The Dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost rendered service to Maedhros, and the mountain smithies were busy in those days. All the Sons of Fëanor, and all who would follow them, were marshalled then, and the Men of Bór and Ulfang the Easterling were enlisted. In the West, Fingon gathered together the remnant of his people and called together the people of Himring, and in Hithlum the Gnomes and the Men of Hador's House prepared for war. In the woods of Brethil, Haldir, son of Helmir (who died ere the war began), marshalled his people. Word of these counsels came beyond the mountains even to Gondolin.

But Morgoth was aware of well-nigh all that was done, and he took counsel against Maedhros. Spies and other workers of treachery he dispatched then into Beleriand, and the Men of his secret allegiance were yet deep within the counsels of the Gnomes. But Maedhros, having called together all strength of Elves, Men and Dwarves that he could, counselled to assault Angband from east and west. He purposed to march across Anfauglith with banners in open force, and that when he had lured the hosts of Morgoth across the sands, he purposed that Fingon should come down out of Hithlum upon the West and so they would take the might of Morgoth as between a hammer and and anvil and break it to pieces; and the signal for this would be the firing of a great beacon in Dorthonion...

Prayers for the Pope...

2010-03-14T22:25:00.002Z

I think it behoves us to pray especially for the intentions of that devout and apostolic man Pope Benedict XVI at this time (hora Satanae), Bishop of Rome and Vicar of Our Lord Jesus Christ. We all endure a pack of wolves at the best of times, but the abuse he has had to put up with this last five years is scarce to be believed. Our Lord will certainly call him among the blessed on the Last Day on account of the unanimous contempt the world has for him. Anyway, enough waffling from me:

Dominus conservet eum, et vivificet eum, et beatum faciat eum in terra, et non tradat eum in animam inimicorum eius.

The good old days...

2010-03-13T21:04:00.004Z

We're fast approaching Holy Week, the most solemn (and my personal favourite) time of the liturgical year. I was going through the St Lawrence Press blog archives earlier and was pleased to find this gem. I remember reading it at the time and having a rather ineffable feeling of mingled ''nostalgia'' (that is if one not old enough to actually remember something can feel nostalgia) and wrath, since Liturgy-wise things have declined at Westminster so magnificently (the New Rite is as far removed from Liturgy as a block of flats is from the Sainte-Chapelle, the most beautiful church in Christendom); although the choir there are second to none. Were this the order of Holy Week at Westminster Cathedral this year, I think I would camp outside for the week! See here for a 1962 comparison (try not to punch something).

Pontifical Mattins and Lauds of Easter Sunday must have been superb. An old friend of mine (with whom I have sadly lost touch), a Russian Orthodox, had a bargain (I suppose similar to the bargain made between Legolas and Gimli) at one time. We agreed to visit each other's churches for the duration of Holy Week, to experience for the first time one anothers' different and venerable Liturgies. Nothing came of it, alas, because I informed him that the church he had in mind (not my parish church, but a church I go to often enough) did not observe the Traditional Liturgy for Holy Week (or indeed at any other time of the year)...

Sancti Gregorii...

2010-03-12T14:21:00.002Z

Today is the Feast of St Gregory the Great, Bishop of Rome A.D 590-604. In my Latin studies, I read much of him in St Bede's Ecclesiastical History, and since the Liturgy owes a great deal to him, (both in the West and in the East - he is said to have composed the Byzantine Liturgy of the Pre-Sanctified; although this is probably spurious since although he did sojourn in Constantinople, he spoke virtually no Greek at all - in the West I know he did away with the old Litany and just kept the ninefold Kyrie (preferring, so his reason dictated, to meditate solely upon the Lord have mercy, an ancient liturgical petition, in a general sense) although my knowledge of Liturgy in this period is wanting, to be polite), I thought it fitting to share this passage from St Bede.

St Augustine of Canterbury went to Arles, and in accordance with the command of the lord Bishop Gregory, servant of the servants of God, was consecrated Archbishop of the English race by Etherius, archbishop of Arles. He returned then to Britain and sent the priest Laurence and the monk Peter to inform the Pope that the English race had received the Apostolic faith and that he was their bishop. He also sent the two with a list of questions which seemed urgent. St Augustine's second question is most interesting in terms of Liturgy...

''II. Augustine's second question. Even though the faith is one, are there varying customs in the churches? And is there one form of Mass in the Holy Roman Church and another in the Gaulish churches?

''Pope Gregory answered: My brother, you know the customs of the Roman Church in which, of course, you were brought up. But it is my wish that if you have found any customs in the Roman or the Gaulish church or any other church which may be more pleasing to Almighty God, you should make a careful selection of them and sedulously teach the Church of the English, which is still new in the faith, what you have been able to gather from other churches. For things are not to be loved for the sake of a place, but places are to be loved for the sake of their good things. Therefore choose from every individual Church whatever things are devout, religious, and right. And when you have collected these as it were into one bundle, see that the minds of the English grow accustomed to it.'' (St Bede, The Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Book I, Chapter 27. Emphasis my own of course).

I shall leave what I have in mind vis-à-vis the emphasis in that wonderful quote (St Bede is full of wonderful quotes. If you haven't read him, then do. In my opinion, his Scriptural commentaries are more coherent even than the great St Augustine of Hippo's) to the imagination of the reader...Happy Feast Day all!

''Look at all the mess...

2010-03-11T22:30:00.002Z

...he made with that triple candle!'' I can't remember who said that (some poor Sacristan I shouldn't wonder), but it was an amusing (and true) story I heard about a priest whose proper observance of Holy Saturday in the 1950s caused much indignation when the mess had to be cleared up afterwards. Rubricarius of the St Lawrence Press has put up an instruction PDF on how to mould the triple candle for the ceremonies of Holy Saturday. I have personally never been to traditional Holy Saturday (or indeed, any of the Triduum, except a slightly more traditional office of Tenebrae - readers who live in and around London will know where I mean), having had to cope with post '55 for about four years. Last year I was roped into chanting one of the Prophecies (in spite of my chest infection) on the Paschal Vigil. It went rather well, but I don't plan on doing any more chanting soon (unless at the uttermost end of need)...

Rubricarius has also put up a guide on the construction of the hearse for Tenebrae. The only ''hearse'' I ever saw for Tenebrae was a small table upon which were stacked books (veiled in the colour of the Office), upon which were placed two candelabrae with bleached candles and a tall candlestick in the middle. It seemed to work well enough...

Is Retro always best?

2010-03-11T12:55:00.002Z

For my sins, I work at a counter in a Supermarket that sells CDs, DVDs, Blu Ray and Video Games. Last night, while doing the ''Availability checks'' on the Gamezone, I was looking at some of the games in vogue on the Nintendo Wii, Microsoft Xbox 360, the Sony PS3 and the Nintendo DS. Recently, a young boy asked whether I had a PS3, because he said he wanted to play against me online. I said that I didn't, but that I wanted one, since the fourth generation slimline PS3 has 250 GB memory and plays Blu Ray, but going through the games last night, I only found one that I thought was worth owning - a new release called Final Fantasy XIII, but even this, in spite of the impressive graphics and visual gameplay, looks like a poor comparison to its excellent predecessor, Final Fantasy VII on the original Playstation, released in 1997.

When I was little, I had every games console worth having (the Super Nintendo, the N64, the Gamecube, the Gameboy, the Gameboy Color, the Gameboy Advance, the Playstation, the Playstation 2, I also had lots of games for the desktop computer). My mother brought me the Nintendo Wii and Xbox 360 for Christmas and my birthday some years ago, but I never played them, partly because the games she brought me were rubbish (they are ''Mario Party 8'' and ''Mario Strikers Charged Football'' for the Wii, and some racing car game for the Xbox 360), and because I think I was content with the old consoles, which take me back to many Christmas' and birthdays ago. I used to spend hours playing classic Tetris on the SNES and the New Tetris on the N64; I loved Donkey Kong, Super Mario World (Yoshi's Island 2 will always be my favourite, one of the last games to be released on the SNES in 1995), Super Mario Kart (on both the SNES and the N64).

My two favourite games of all time, though, are without doubt The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, released on the N64 in 1998, and Final Fantasy VII, released on the Playstation in 1997. In terms of quality of gameplay, difficulty, music, art, story and adventure, they simply cannot be beaten. It took me two whole years to ''complete'' Final Fantasy VII (and even then, the first time I merely got to the end and neglected the many side-quests - I still haven't thoroughly completed it, since I haven't defeated the two hardest Weapons - giant monsters, one lives in the desert, the other under the sea, and this is a game I have been playing sporadically for over 12 years). It took me less time to complete Zelda, but the game is shorter. Newer versions in the Zelda series were less good. I completed Twilight Princess on the Gamecube, but only once, and I haven't played it since (it was only released in 2006 anyway).

Lately, the Wii have been releasing some of their classic games, like Super Mario Bros and Super Mario Kart (these are also available on the DS - I'd like to know why. Years ago one game was available on one console, another on another console, so if you wanted both, you had to get both consoles. I know that there is slight variation in gameplay across the different consoles, but I still don't see the point in releasing the same game on two and sometimes three different consoles). Having played them, I can honestly say that I am most unimpressed. They are just rip-offs of the classic Super Mario games, with hardly anything original about them. They're not even that hard anymore! Of course, boys 10 plus years younger than me, who have no memory of the old games, think they're the best thing ever...I wonder if I just grew out of them? I think that games consoles have had their day and unless Nintendo, Microsoft or Sony come up with something wonderful and original, I'll stick with the classic games.

Liturgy and eras in Church history...

2010-03-10T11:42:00.004Z

Were I asked to pick a favourite period in the history of the Church, I would say the 11th-13th centuries. The spring time of the Middle Ages didn't have Low Mass. Were I asked to pick a least favourite period, I would say the entire Counter-Reformation period, beyond that even - 1500-2010. In the Middle Ages, piety, devotion and Liturgy were more ''creative'' (a cant word confessedly! I am not a Modernist, and I do not approve of DIY liturgy, where you make things up as you go along, with many a Postcommunion dance in evidence and shaking hands etc - I mean ''natural;'' creative in the sense of arising from our subcreative abilities derived from the Creator, perfectly harmonious with the Kalendar and the dictates of ''decency'') or ''fluent'' (Liturgy growing naturally in an air of undiluted prayer and genuine Catholicism) than in the Counter-Reformation period, where centralization and a generally stern countenance seemed to be the norm for the Church. Piety and Liturgy became ''crystallized,'' as it were, where paranoia about a Protestant influence on the faithful through devotion and Liturgy increased to such an extent that real ''organic'' development (letting the tree of the Liturgy grow naturally...) was shunned, or at least looked upon with suspicion. The growth of the Liturgy became stunted, and so later approaches to ''liturgical reform'' were hopelessly misguided, coming from intelligible motives (some of the time), but just getting everything wrong; and if we skip a few centuries, the logical result of all this is the Novus Ordo.

I think that the Fathers of the Council of Trent erred in their approach to Liturgy. Instead of reforming the Liturgy in the way that they did (codifying a new set of rubrics for Low Mass and doing away with a plethora of beautiful Sequences (even if some were, as Fortescue says, about wine and beer!) and many things beside), the Fathers should have sat down and said: ''we don't need to do much here - except about this awful thing called Low Mass; it's a very Protestant and minimalist approach to Liturgy, which ought to be as solemn as our means can afford as mortal Men. It is to be declared a liturgical abuse and entirely obsolete. Liturgical devotion is to be fostered among priests in the newly built seminaries, where seminarians are to be taught the ceremonies of Mass that they might competently minister at the Altar. They are to be well-versed in plainsong and the Latin tongue, since these are the liturgical traditions of the Western Church. Where possible, the Office is to be sung in all parish churches. All parishes are to have a Deacon, and the Subdiaconate need not be treated as a Major Order - it has not been treated consistently so in the West anyway, and so a devout Server can provide this role where necessary;'' etc, etc. If they had decided to do things as things were always done, then later liturgical reform would not have been so botched. It is, however, noteworthy that the Pope put himself in charge of the liturgy at Trent, and we all know about Popes and Liturgy...

Since the natural growth of the Liturgy was crystallized by the Council of Trent, later approaches to ''improve'' it were rather ham-fisted - instead of pruning and cutting out cankers, cutting off branches, or even trying to dig the whole thing up became the norm. It is almost as if the Western Church lost a great and inherent ''liturgical sense'' - a grievous loss. We had Liturgy, but didn't know how to do Liturgy. If we go forward, past all the unfortunate changes under Pius XII, to Vatican II, and we see the same thing going on. The Fathers, and worse, the peritii (under the aegis of that sniveling little Orc Bugnini) rightly saw that by 1962 the Liturgy was in desperate need of ''reform,'' but they had little idea about how to do it, and so they ended up merely perpetuating the errors of their predecessors. Change for the sake of change is never a good thing, no matter how much you might dress it up as for making the Liturgy accessible; but then were the Fathers of Vatican II that interested in Liturgy anyway? Because the growth of the Liturgy, which is the most important thing in the treasure trove of the Church which comes from God, had been stunted so many centuries ago (largely a Protestant influence I think, but we can blame the logic behind Low Mass for that ultimately), the fruits of liturgical reform belong to the flora of Mordor, and we need not go into them. Suffice to say, the Church feels the affects now...

To conclude on a rather eccentric note, I think that a more ''Entish'' approach to the liturgical movement is called for; to see Liturgy in Entish terms (insofar as we are able - we do not live as long as Ents though), moving at a glacial pace. I am sure that the Ents would look down their noses at Low Mass. But alas, I don't think this is going to happen. The damage has been done, and as Treebeard, the most liturgical character in The Lord of the Rings, said: ''much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.''

The image is a silhouette of Whitby Abbey, a vision of that which has been left far behind by the flowing streams of Time (and liturgical reform) as it were.

The last stage...

2010-03-09T22:37:00.003Z

We have reached the end of the Lay of Leithian now, and in all honesty, I am relieved. As beautiful as I think this story is, I have dragged it on a bit. I can't remember exactly when I started it, November I think, but it took a while since I believe that to truly appreciate the legends of the Elder Days, it behoves us to read them in verse, or better still to hear them sung in verse, just as the Hobbits heard them sung aright in the House of Elrond, but this just isn't going to happen. I imagine that the chief legends of the Elder Days, when sung in full in Elrond's House, must have sounded like sung Office. When Tolkien chanted Galadriel's lament for a researcher, he noted that it sounded a bit like Gregorian Chant...I don't think I shall treat the other chief Tales (those of Húrin and the Fall of Gondolin) in this manner - it is, afterall, supposed to be a ''synopsis.''

Mablung and Beleg came to the King's aid, but when they looked upon what had happened, they cast aside their spears and wept. Mablung took a knife and cut open the belly of Carcharoth, and sure enough, there was the Silmaril, and his innards were blackened and burned as with a consuming fire, but the hand of Beren was yet incorrupt. But when Mablung reached for the Silmaril, Beren's hand was no more, but the light of that holy jewel filled the shadows of the forest. Then Mablung, with great fear and haste, took the Silmaril and placed it in Beren's hand, and quickened for a moment by the touch of the jewel, he held it aloft, saying: ''Now is the Quest fulfilled and my doom full-wrought,'' and he spoke then no more.

They bore back the body of Beren upon a bier of branches with Huan the valiant, and night fell ere they reached Menegroth. Lúthien met them at the feet of Hírilorn, the great beech of Doriath, and she put her arms about Beren and kissed him, and bade him wait for her beyond the Western Sea, and ere his spirit left him, he looked into her eyes.

Upon the dim shores of the Outer Sea the spirit of Beren indeed tarried, unwilling to leave the Circles of the World, until Lúthien should come to say her last farewell. And the spirit of Lúthien fell then into a great darkness of grief, and fled her body, and her beautiful body lay as a flower upon the grass that is newly cut off. And a winter, as it were, the hoar age of mortal Men, fell upon Thingol, but Lúthien coming at last to the halls of Mandos, that place in the far West where are the appointed places of waiting for the Elves and where they sit in the sorrow and shadow of their thoughts, besought Mandos to mercy, and she sang to him, that inexorable Vala who never was so moved to pity upon the sorrow of the Elves and the grief of Men.

As she sang before him, the fairest and most beautiful song that ever in words was woven (and which is sung still in Valinor, to the sad ears of the Valar), her tears fell upon his feet like rain upon stone, and Mandos was moved. And so he summoned Beren, and they met at last in his sad halls beside the Outer Sea. But Mandos, although Judge under Eru, had no power or authority to withhold Men beyond their time of waiting, nor to change the doom of either kindred, and so he sought the counsel of Manwë, who praying hard, delivered this judgement. Because of her labours and her sorrow, Lúthien could leave the Halls of Mandos and dwell forever among the Valar, forgetting all ties and all grief, until the World's End. Thither Beren could not come, for none of mortal Men were permitted to dwell among the Valar, nor could Death be withheld from him. Or she might return to Middle-earth, and to take up her life again with Beren, without certitude of life or happiness. Then she would become mortal even as he, and be subject to a second Death, and her beauty would then become merely a memory in song.

This last choice she chose, forsaking the Blessed Realm and the kinship of the Elves, and thus was her fate joined to Beren's beyond the Circles of the World, and alone of the Eldar she has died indeed and left the world long ago.

Art: Ted Nasmith.

The Hunt for the Wolf...

2010-03-09T13:35:00.002Z

Beren knelt before the throne of Thingol, and Thingol looked in amazement upon him (but little love, because of the sorrow that had befallen his kingdom). ''I return according to my word,'' said Beren. ''I am come now to claim my own.'' ''What of your quest, and of your vow?'' asked Thingol. ''It is fulfilled. Even now a Silmaril is in my hand'' said Beren. And Thingol said: ''Show it to me!'' And Beren held forth his hand, opened his palm, and the hand was empty, and then he put forth the stump of his right hand, and he named himself Camlost, that is, the Empty-handed.

But in that hour Thingol's mood changed, and Beren sat upon the left of the King, with Lúthien upon the left, and they told all the tale of their Quest, and all were amazed, and it seemed to Thingol then that Beren was unlike other Mortal Men, whom he had hitherto held in scorn, and the love of Lúthien a thing noble and not to be held back. Therefore, at last he consented, and Beren took the hand of Lúthien before the throne of her father.

But the joy of those present was short-lived, for learning the true tale of the madness of Carcharoth, the people were filled with dread, perceiving that the power of the Silmaril drove him on. And Beren, learning of the onslaught of Carcharoth, understood in that hour that the Quest was not fulfilled. And so, since Carcharoth drew nearer to Menegroth daily, they all prepared the Hunting of the Wolf, of all pursuits in the recorded history of Arda the most perilous. Thither went Huan, the Wolf-hound of Valinor, Mablung, chief captain of the King, Beleg Strongbow, Beren and Thingol himself with a great host. They rode forth in the morning, and as Lúthien watched them depart at the gates of Menegroth, a shadow fell upon her, and it seemed to her that the Sun grew sick and the daylight was darkened.

The hunters went north-east, following the course of Esgalduin, until sure enough they came upon the Wolf himself in a dark valley, down the northern side where there were falls. At the foot of the waterfall, the Wolf drank to ease his pain, and he howled, and thus they were aware of him. But he was aware of them, and rushed not suddenly to attack them but instead concealed himself in a deep brake and there lay hid. A guard was then set about that place and they watched and waited until the shadows grew long in the woods. Beren stood beside the King, and they were both aware that Huan was missing. Then suddenly a great baying was heard in the woods, for Huan became impatient and went to ambush Carcharoth, but Carcharoth avoided him and sprang upon Thingol. Beren strode before him with a spear, but Carcharoth swept it aside and bit his breast, and he was felled. But then Huan went in for the kill, leaping from the thickets upon the back of the Wolf and together they fought fiercely. No battle of wolf and hound has been like it, for in the baying of Huan was heard the wrath of the Valar and the echo of the horn of Oromë the Great, but in the howls of Carcharoth was the bottomless hatred of Morgoth and malice crueller than teeth of steel, and the trees and the rocks were rent by the clamour of that battle. Together they fought to the death, but none heeded them, for Beren lay dying, and Thingol knelt at his side.

Huan in that hour slew Carcharoth, but himself met his doom, and the venom of Morgoth went into him. He came to Beren and spoke then the third time, and the last, and he bade him farewell. Beren did not speak, but lay his hand upon the head of Huan, and so they parted.

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Beren and Lúthien return to the Woods...

2010-03-08T12:48:00.004Z

In the last post, we had reached the stage in the tale where the Eagles, warned by Huan to keep watch on the movements of Angband, had rescued Beren and Lúthien and set them down on the borders of Doriath. Even as the Eagles returned to their eyries in the Crissaegrim, Huan returned to Lúthien and together they tended Beren, whose wound was perilous. Long he wandered on the borders of Death, but at length he woke again, seeing the first leaves of Spring in the trees.

Thereafter, Beren was known as Erchamion, which is the One-handed. Together Beren and Lúthien wandered the woods, and they were both content, but both according to his love and to the laws of Men, Beren would not suffer Lúthien to remain a waif of the wild woods forever, and so he counselled that they should return again to Menegroth, and so their doom willed it.

Upon Doriath an evil climate had descended. Grief and silence had come upon the inhabitants of that land since the disappearance of Lúthien, and Daeron, the greatest minstrel of the age (save only Maglor, son of Fëanor), who loved Lúthien most ardently, despaired and strayed from the land, where it is said that he made lament for her beside the waters of strange lands for many ages. In that time Thingol turned to Melian for counsel, but Melian would not open her heart, saying that the Doom must work to its appointed end and that he must wait upon time. In that time also, Thingol learned of Lúthien's sojourn in Nargothrond, and that Celegorm would take her to wife by force, and he was wrathful and sent forth spies, thinking to make war upon Nargothrond. In this way he learned that Lúthien had gone forth from Nargothrond, that Felagund was dead and that the Sons of Fëanor were driven forth as exiles. And so, he sent messengers to Himring to summon their aid in the search for Lúthien, but in the north of his realm, his messengers had met with a peril unlooked for - the onslaught of Carcharoth.

In the impetuosity of his madness, the Wolf of Angband had burst forth from the North, had passed through Taur-nu-Fuin as a gale on its eastern side and came upon the sources of Esgalduin. Nothing stopped him, and the Girdle of Melian had no power to hinder him, for Doom drove him on. All fled before him, but alone of the messengers of Thingol, Mablung, chief captain of the King, escaped and brought the tidings to Thingol. Even in that dread hour, Beren and Lúthien returned, and the news of their coming passed through the woods like a sound of music borne by the wind into dark houses where men sit sorrowful; and they came at last to the gates of Menegroth, and a great host followed them...

Art: Ted Nasmith.

Lewis & Short for iPhone...

2010-03-06T20:04:00.002Z

The iTunes App[lication] store is a treasure trove of cack, but occasionally you'll find something fun or useful - you just have to know where to look. Last week, I found the Lewis & Short Latin Dictionary (something I have wanted for ages, but can't afford!) for iPhone, an App that was only about £3! (cheaper than it's ''Collins Latin Dictionary'' equivalent). The disadvantage is that you cannot browse, you have to look words up, but the entries are still far more thorough and edifying than my Oxford Latin Dictionary. I found this this afternoon, under bibo (I drink): bibere naturae est, potare luxuriae. I cannot possibly translate this since, heretofore, I had not realised that there was a difference between the verbs. The Dictionary says that bibo is to drink from a natural thirst, whereas poto is to drink from passion, at leisure etc, although the latter is occasionally used in deference to water. Interestingly, over lunch this afternoon, Fr Finigan told me about the New Rite Offertory prayers, which in their Latin originals (seldom heard - I think that in my whole life I have attended only one New Rite Mass entirely in Latin, and I found it just as boring as the New Rite in English) describe the Chalice of Salvation as potus spiritualis (''spiritual drink''). I am not a clever Latinist but quite apart from the ambiguity of the term ''spiritual drink,'' I am not entirely satisfied with the rather carefree connotation potus seems to render the Precious Blood...since the Sacraments are things that we hunger and thirst after as things that we need, surely potus falls short of defining the Sacrament...

As I have said, I am a poor Latinist, and maybe there is no other word for it. No one else seems to have picked up on this though, even the SSPX. I have read lots of their stuff, and often it's very good, but I stopped reading their ''Problem of Liturgical Reform'' when they described the 1962 Missal as the last ''traditional'' edition. Why do so-called ''traditionalists'' (and the most famous ones) so often get in the way of real Tradition?

Is there an App for conversation?

2010-03-06T19:35:00.002Z

Lots of people have noticed that I am glued to my new iPhone [the bloody space bar isn't working - it won't press down properly without a lot of force which makes typing a nightmare - does anyone know how to sort it?]. This is one reason that blogging has been slow this week. Someone asked me last night in the club (after I put the iPhone back into my pocket; purely because the battery was dead) whether there was an App for conversation! I have found that Wi-Fi doesn't work in my bedroom, so when I need to use the Internet, check mail etc, I am rather stuck without the family computer (my laptop doesn't have the Internet, and it's been in it's box on top of my wardrobe for months because I don't have a proper desk or bureau in my room to work from).

This morning I attended a Sung Mass of Requiem with Absolutions for Fr Adolph Koch (I hope I have spelt the name right?), parish priest at Blackfen from 1945-1980, whose thirtieth anniversary it is. He was in fact the priest who married my grandparents in 1957, which puts it back a bit. I must stop now because this space bar is driving me nuts. I may blog about The Silmarillion tomorrow, since I have neglected it lately.

The consolation of my new iPhone...

2010-03-02T14:53:00.004Z

I love my new iPhone. I can honestly say that it's one of the best purchases I have ever made. So far I have 37 Apps, 64 songs and Lord only knows how many contacts and other things. I am slowly getting used to it, but I am not nearly finished with downloading new Apps and Songs - there are also music videos, films and TV programmes to sort out yet, but I have to be reticent about my spending now since I have already incurred a large bill...

The iPhone has especially come in handy with regard to helping people too, not least myself. Having Asperger Syndrome, I like to be alone a lot of the time, but being confined to my bedroom all day, with no money to go out, and being shunned by all except my brother, does take its toll a bit (plus there is no overtime at work). No doubt my decision to not eat with my family or have anything to do with them (I haven't had a proper meal since Thursday, and that was at a friend's house! I'm basically living on cheese sandwiches, which are starting to simply stick in my throat, as Bilbo said of the cram he was forced to eat during his adventures with the stubborn Thorin Oakenshield) will only be called a ''self-imposed exile'' by the rest of my family, but I will not move one inch. This domestic situation is rather complex and personal, but the general gist of it is that I live in a ''culturally-Catholic'' home, which is secular despite the Crucifixes that hang on the walls, and my parents don't like my going to church ''all the time.'' I also told them about my troubles at University and their decision, which you may or may not find rather strange, was to stop speaking to me (not, as I desired, ''we're here for you Patrick, so let us know if you need any support'' or whatever), and then my sister (the worst human being I have ever met - and please don't tell me about ''sibling rivalry'' - this is way beyond that) turned up. This was about two months ago, although the tension, lulled to sleep somewhat over Christmas, has been there ready to come up any time for ages. In fact, one reason my mother hasn't spoken to her own mother for 14-15 years (thereby depriving her children of their grandparents) is because she thought that my grandmother had too much of a ''religious'' influence over me, so this is hardly a new thing. I do, however, feel completely starved of affection, which, when you're already depressed because of University, is just what you need.

But, as Erendis admonished her daughter Ancalimë: ''Therefore, do not bend Ancalimë. Once bend a little, and they will bend you further until you are bowed down. Sink your roots into the rock, and face the wind, though it blow away all your leaves.'' (Unfinished Tales, Part II, Chapter II).

Questions about Holy Communion...

2010-02-28T19:57:00.004Z

Today, when I got in from church, I reflected (after my three hour nap - I find that sleeping when I'm depressed helps a bit) a bit on the reception of Holy Communion and I have a few questions to put to readers.

Is it judgemental to think that some people are unworthy to receive Holy Communion? I ask this because I see people going up habitually all the time, as though they are entitled to receive. Are they entirely innocent of the Scriptures and the teaching of the Church?

The Scriptures say: Therefore, whosoever shall eat this bread, or drink the chalice of the Lord unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and of the blood of the Lord. (1Cor 11:27).

And again: For he that eats and drinks unworthily eats and drinks judgment to himself, not discerning the body of the Lord. (1Cor 11:29).

Of course, He alone knows each individual soul and its circumstances, but I often find it annoying that when I go without Holy Communion (because I believe that I am not in a state of Grace and fasting from Midnight) I see people queuing up whom I don't think really ought to have left their place at all. That pious and edifyingly devout man Tolkien made a point of going to Confession every time he received (Humphrey Carpenter, Tolkien's biographer, rather disparagingly remarks that Tolkien had an almost ''Medieval'' insistence on frequent Confession, and that he imposed this on his children and his wife - but then, Carpenter was not Catholic so he can't be expected to understand), and since he went to Mass nearly everyday for most of his life, he must have gone to Confession a lot more than perhaps some modern Catholics do. But then, Tolkien was in favour of daily Communion (''seven times a week is more nourishing than seven times at intervals'' he admonished his son Michael in 1963, then suffering depression and almost coming to lapse), and I am not. I think that St Pius X erred in this, and I would rather people received only on Sundays and Holydays...

Another question: we all know the arguments against reception of Holy Communion in the hand, but why don't old people, long accustomed to this manifest abuse, accept remonstrance from people who know better than they do? The mental image I get when I see people greedily sticking out their hands is like the vision Frodo saw, under the influence of the Ring, in the Tower of Cirith Ungol when Sam offered to help his Master bear the Ring to Orodruin. The text goes:

'''...You'll find the Ring very dangerous now, and very hard to bear. If it's too hard a job, I could share it with you, maybe?'
'No, no!' cried Frodo, snatching the Ring and chain from Sam's hands. 'No you won't, you thief!' He panted, staring at Sam with eyes wide with fear and enmity. Then suddenly, clasping the Ring in one clenched fist, he stood aghast. A mist seemed to clear from his eyes, and he passed a hand over his aching brow. The hideous vision had seemed so real to him, half bemused as he was still with wound and fear. Sam had changed before his very eyes into an orc again, leering and pawing at his treasure, a foul little creature with greedy eyes and slobbering mouth.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book VI, Chapter I).

Are people who put out their hands to receive like the thieves and robbers Christ speaks of in St John chapter 10? Or are they pitiable people who are entirely ignorant and deserving of our sympathy? I don't understand why people put out their hands even when they have been told that it is intrinsically wrong, but I do often find that some do so out of contempt for the Faith - or at least contempt for the orthodox way of receiving. Such people, in my opinion, do not receive worthily ergo eat and drink judgement and the ancestral wrath of our first parents unto themselves. They must be rehabilitated that their souls might be saved.

Perhaps some of you are now thinking: ''he's off again...''

Tweed...

2010-02-26T23:46:00.002Z

A friend has alerted me to this post on another blog. It's about Tolkien's dress sense, which he does mention in one of his letters (not that I can be bothered to look it up, it's from about 1960), saying that he dared to wear in those dull days fine waistcoats and tweed trousers (the money he earned from the publication of his books, which he received in cheques every so often, made his retirement better than his pension alone would have allowed - although he was never extravagent and was generous).

Meantime - Patricius has purchased the iPhone 3G S, which I may regret after several months when the monthly expense starts to take its toll, but I am enjoying it at the moment (I brought it this afternoon straight after work - it's payday you see - an early birthday present). I hearby declare all other phones to be obsolete! I felt like the centre of attention in the parish club after Stations of the Cross this evening! I haven't done a lot to it, since setting the thing up took a while, as well as getting used to various bits and pieces. A friend of mine suggested that I should have spent the money on a Prada handbag to go with my Prada spectacles...

It's all making me feel better; although all this may only be palliative...

Such counsels...

2010-02-25T13:18:00.002Z

When I published my last post, it put me in mind of this passage from The Lord of the Rings:

'''Pride and despair!' he cried. 'Didst thou think that the eyes of the White Tower were blind? Nay, I have seen more than thou knowest, Grey Fool. For thy hope is but ignorance. Go then and labour in healing! Go forth and fight! Vanity. For a little space you may triumph on the field, for a day. But against the Power that now arises there is no victory. To this City only the first finger of its hand has been stretched. All the East is moving. And even now the wind of thy hope cheats thee and wafts up Anduin a fleet with black sails. The West has failed. It is time for all to depart who would not be slaves.'
'Such counsels will make the Enemy's victory certain indeed,' said Gandalf.'' (The Lord of the Rings, Book V, Chapter VII).

I expect that a Church Militant with all her soldiers locked up inside doesn't go much in favour with the Evangelical doctrines of bearing witness, etc. If only we had a Gandalf though...at least a local one. That pious and apostolic man in Rome cannot see everything, and his saying anything would only be construed in Parliament as yet more outrageous meddling in British politics, even if the very innocence of children is at stake.

Re: my other posts. I may return to them at some point, but I am hardly living in an environment conducive to writing...

Another one of those posts...

2010-02-24T22:53:00.003Z

I am still here. Between work, bella domestici (''home wars'' for those of you who don't know Latin) and other commitments, I have been unable to continue my two other posts. One is about Tolkien's concept of the ''long defeat'' of human history, which I guess is pertinent given current governmental legislation - although I really don't see what everyone is moaning about and why they expected anything different. This is a secular, and therefore evil and Godless, nation, and I expect that in my lifetime I shall see laws passed that make even the mention of Christ's name except in scorn a criminal offence, so why bother complaining or trying to change anything? Politicians, who are corrupt money-grabbing thieves, simply aren't interested in what the Church teaches. As for the notorious absence of the Bishops in this unfortunate conflict, did we really expect any better? The Bishops are incompetent compared with earlier Church standards (didn't St Gregory the Great refuse to consecrate a candidate because he couldn't recite the Psalter by rote?) anyway. The Church should instead focus on personal internal reform (by which I mean doing away with the New Rite) than wasting precious time and energy on the irreligious - these are the Last Days afterall, or have certain Catholics forgotten this? Shake the dust from your feet, expel the wicked from amongst you, etc...If I were able, I would retreat into a small ''family of God'' (a small band of ardent Traditionalists, have High Mass everyday and sung Office with Tolkien in between) and speak Latin all day.

The other post is about General Councils of the Church, how they are notoriously ambiguous, how the office of the Pope requires someone who actually knows how to be Pope rather than an arrogant autocrat (I wonder if Ecumenical Councils teach Popes this?) who thinks he can do as he pleases with the Liturgy, etc. I am also going to (although I haven't so yet) work in some of the Syllabus of Errors and compare it to what Vatican II taught. ''Conservative'' Catholics are often embarrassed by the Syllabus of Errors (apostate ''catholics,'' you know who I mean, are simply not interested in it - that is if they've even heard of it), just like the Genesis Creation story; where it plainly teaches something later contradicted by Vatican II, they shy away from it like out-of-date furniture.

Sigh...nothing has ever been entirely to my taste; Western Liturgy should be longer, Low Mass shouldn't exist etc;...except Tolkien, but then I wish that more of his stuff were complete. He was only human and had many other commitments. When The Lord of the Rings was finally published, roughly 17 years after ''the New Hobbit'' was conceived of, the English Faculty at Oxford said: ''so this is what you've been doing all these years! Now we think it behoves you, Mr Tolkien (he was not a D.Phil, but then most Dons weren't in those days), to do some real work!'' As a philologist, and a very good one (he was a pure philologist - fascinated by language and the form of words purely for the sake of words - Literature was secondary), Tolkien knew more than anyone else in the world. I wonder if he'd have been better off writing treatises on complex aspects of philology and English literature instead of writing The Lord of the Rings? Fame puzzled Tolkien, and he was certainly disturbed by fandom in the '60s, too many hippies, and I'm quite sure he'd repudiate the Peter Jackson trilogy. I sometimes wish that he'd never published The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit - but that I myself had discovered the manuscript in the Bodleian Library, as a Classical Moderations student...but perhaps this is just selfish of me?

Questions about Liturgy and Language...

2010-02-23T01:40:00.003Z

I am writing two other posts at the moment, but both have been stifled by that awful ''writer's block'' phenomenon. But here are some questions to fill the gap:

Is the ability to understand Latin necessarily a ''good'' in the appreciation of Traditional Liturgy? I ask because I can read the Rubrics of the Missal and most of the Propers and Ordinary with relative fluency. Does this enable me to ''understand'' Liturgy better than your average joe?

What is it that determines whether a language is ''liturgical'' or not? Is it the immemorial use of that tongue, such as the Latin and Greek languages? Modern vernacular tongues are by no means ''liturgical'' languages of course...

Lethargy...

2010-02-21T12:19:00.003Z

Blogging may be slow over the next few days, since I've had another dip, and ''bad atmospheres'' have gone off into other spheres than home for me. I was writing a follow-up post to my ''controversial'' post about Rome and the New Rite, and I may return to it, but it's rather long-winded and I don't think I have the diplomacy to finish it. I significantly modified what I thought the Holy Father should say to people who like the New Rite too...Meanwhile, I have to go to work this afternoon (the first Sunday I have worked for years) for lovely stock take. This means that you go around the shop, scan barcodes with a small machine and enter how many of them there are on the shelf (and they say we're superior to the beasts of the field?). It's even worse in the warehouse where it's all dusty and things are less ordered, and you often end up coming across things you counted earlier and you have to go back etc...

One thing only is keeping me from utter despair, and it's neither Tolkien nor Liturgy...

Does Rome have all the answers?

2010-02-19T12:59:00.003Z

I often find that when the New Rite is dressed up a bit to look like the Old Rite the result is just farcical. Look at Papal Ash Wednesday this year for instance. I was loath to say anything until a friend emailed me and we had exactly the same grievances. Why are the Cardinal Deacons in Dalmatics rather than Planetae Plicatae? Why are the Cardinals in scarlet rather than violet as is more appropriate for penitential days? It is all in the New Rite and is therefore NOT traditional, even in the slightest, and the spectacle of Cardinals wearing their birettas when not paratus just adds insult to injury. Apropos, why are we supposed to be pleased with it? I thought the Holy Father had more liturgical sense than this...

It all seems to me as though the people in Rome have realised that something has gone wrong in liturgical history and are doing a very fudged job to try and remedy it, getting most of it wrong along the way. ''Oh, if you wear your biretta, your Eminence, I'm sure people with lukewarm liturgical hankerings and no real knowledge will be well-pleased, since you rarely see the biretta in use these days.'' Never mind about when and when not to wear it! If I were the Pope (and I'm sure everyone thinks ''thank God you aren't!''), I would call together all the Cardinals, Bishops, Abbots etc together to Rome, stand up in front of them and say that I repudiate every aspect of 20th century liturgical reform, and that they had better do likewise. Never mind about trying to read things in the light of tradition, which is just a pretentious cop-out and is also Orwellian Doublethink. Something is either good or bad, right or wrong, black or white, traditional or modern. Things can never be both. As regards interpreting things in a traditional context, would you try to read the Qu'ran in the light of Tradition? No, naturally you wouldn't; so why do we try to read things like the New Rite, Nostra Aetate, Unitatis Redintegratio and Gaudium et Spes in the light of Tradition? As Tolkien said of Lewis' idea of the ''miserific vision'' it is rationally nonsense and theologically blasphemous...

What do we do then? If only priests and bishops had ignored what those idiots in Rome said in the '50s. ''I don't care what Rome said, I am observing the Octave!'' You cannot look to Mother Rome when Mother Rome is half infested with Orcs can you? And so, you look to the Tradition of the Church, which is older than Bugnini and Paul VI. I remember from my Latin classes finding something in the Regula Sancti Benedicti that went something like: ''Do not do as the Master does, but only what he says.'' This is good counsel, but I think it rather depends upon the character and honesty of the Master.

So, does Rome have all the answers? Maybe we'll just have to wait a few more years to find out. In the meantime, certainly don't do as they do in Rome, since they're doing everything wrong, just stick with the Old Rite and maybe Rome can look to Tradition and to us traditionalists instead of her own ideas about Tradition...

I'm still alive...

2010-02-18T23:37:00.002Z

Forgive the lack of posts recently, but my ISP had a major crash locally. I rang them, only to be told by a computer that they were aware that there was a problem and that we weren't the only ones. I was beside myself with wrath at one point (apparently not a pretty sight), and threatened to leave only my ''calm and reasonable'' mother took over and managed to get us back on. In all honesty, not having had the Internet for almost three days was like being amputated. Indeed, I would go so far as to echo Tolkien's sentiments when he lost the use of his right arm...sometime towards the end of his life (I can't for the life of me find the letter, but it's in there somewhere - if anyone else finds it, do let me know!): that being deprived of the ability to write properly was (to him) like the loss of a bill to a bird.

Updates: I don't feel as depressed as I did, in spite of one or two setbacks. My book proposal was rejected (blast the publishers - this is probably because I didn't enclose a CV - what difference does my work experience make to my ability to write?). Nevertheless, it's been a good week. Most of my books have arrived. The one on ''Greek Love'' is very interesting, although off-putting since it was written by a flaming iron hoof (I should have guessed that when I brought it - I'm going to read it cover to cover though). The others are interesting too. Hildegard's Symphonia is interesting, but irritating sometimes, but I find a lot of Medieval Latin to be inferior anyway. My libellus on Catullus arrived, which Fr Tim was delighted with. It's an old school textbook, and was only 64p! It's a collection of his poems with academic notation and vocab. The Introduction is well worth the read! May blog on this soon. I was asked by Zephyrinus to blog more on Bl Hildegard this evening, so I may devote some time to this tomorrow, now that I am off work. My other book was recommended by a friend and is called Benedictio Aquarum in Vigilia Epiphaniae (The Blessing of the Waters on the Eve of the Epiphany). It's very interesting, since it contains not only two Roman forms, but the Greek, Syriac, Coptic and Russian equivalents. The first Roman form is about 42 pages long; the second one (approved by the SRC in 1890) is two. I have never seen the solemn blessing of waters before, but having gone through this book, I imagine it to be quite magnificent. Maybe we could do it at Blackfen next year...?

Meantime, I am going to bed.

Music and Low Mass...part one?

2010-02-16T16:26:00.002Z

This is not going to be a complex treatise on Music and Low Mass...I am sorry to disappoint, but I know nothing whatsoever about Liturgy - I merely ask questions. Towards the end of her life, Bl Hildegard of Bingen was placed under ecclesiastical Interdict for having a nobleman, formerly excommunicate, buried with rites within the monastery grounds. Interdict means that she was not allowed to assist at Mass, receive the Sacraments or sing the Office. She was permitted, however, to say the Office in choro. It is likely that there were ''politics'' involved, and some jealousy on the part of the local Ordinary in the decision, but I know too little of the unfortunate circumstances to comment. Anyway, for months of utter silence Hildegard meditated upon the place of Sacred Music in the Divine plan. And so, she sent an appeal to the prelates of Mainz in which she set down her thoughts on the theology of Sacred Music, concluding with a prophetic warning against the enemies of music. She says: ''beware, before you use an interdict to stop the mouth of any church of God's singers...lest you be ensnared in your judgements by Satan, who lured man away from the celestial harmony and the delights of paradise.'' She goes on to warn the erring prelates that if they do not repent ''they will forego the fellowship of the Angelic praise in Heaven, for they have unjustly despoiled God on earth of the beauty of His praise.'' To silence music in Church, therefore, creates an artificial gulf between the celestial harmony in Heaven and the harmony on earth, to put asunder that which God had joined together by His Incarnation.

Music is integral to the Sacred Liturgy. Surely to silence the Liturgy is to put a gag on it? To do some violence or something unnatural to it? You simply cannot get away from the fact that Low Mass is the worst example of a minimalist approach to Liturgy. You should do everything within your means to make the Liturgy as solemn as possible. Anything less is less than litourgia.

I must say again: down with Low Mass, up with sung Office. Low Mass is just horribly wrong, and arguments for it being ''silent,'' ''conducive to private prayer,'' or whatever other nonsense are just stinking red herrings and hot air. This maybe continued...

The Madness of Carcharoth...

2010-02-16T13:39:00.003Z

Three new books arrived for me this morning (some Hildegard of Bingen; her style of Latin is unique but she can sometimes annoy me because she can't spell! and a book on Greek pederasty - is that a ''morbid'' interest I wonder?), so blogging might be slow over the next few days. My mother might tell you how engrossed I get in an interesting book; it's rather strange, I become oblivious to the outside world! I have long decided my Lenten abstinence, so I indulged in that for the last time (hopefully) for a while yesterday. The thing about my Lenten penances is that I try to carry them over and beyond Easter, but this doesn't always work. Lord willing, I shall be more successful this year. In the meanwhile, let's return to the Lay of Leithian. The Lay was incomplete, and we reached a fateful moment in the last post, but it suddenly cuts off. Tolkien composed various sketches for later stanzas, but I will leave all that out and rely now upon the narrative of The Silmarillion.

Beren thrust the holy jewel into the face of the great Wolf Carcharoth, saying: ''Get you gone, and fly! for here is a fire that shall consume you, and all evil things!'' But Carcharoth was not daunted, and gaping he bit the hand of Beren, still clutching the holy jewel, at the wrist. Suddenly, all his innards were filled with a devouring fire that ate away at him. Howling, he fled before them down into Beleriand, and all the creatures of Morgoth fled before him, such was the horror of his onset. Beren lay in a swoon before the great gates of Hell, for there was venom in the fangs of the Wolf, and Lúthien did all she could unaided to staunch and heal the wound. But they were in dire peril, for behind them in Angband was heard the rumour of fierce wrath suddenly kindled. The hosts of Morgoth were aroused from sleep.

Thus the Quest of the Silmaril was almost doomed to utter failure, but they were saved. For Huan the wise was vigilant, and he had bidden all things watch that they might render the lovers aid. Thus, even as the darts and bolts of the enemy assailed them, Beren and Lúthien were saved by Thorondor the mighty Eagle and his vassals, and souring above the lightning they escaped the wrath of Angband only just. Fire belched forth from Thangorodrim, and there were great quakes that rent the earth, and the lands about were ruined. Thorondor passed over Anfauglith, Taur-nu-Fuin and came over the hidden vale of Tumladen, and Lúthien beheld the white city of Gondolin amid the green jewel of the plain. But she wept, for Beren did not speak and she thought that he would surely die. The eagles set them down at the borders of Doriath and returned to the mountains...

Art: Ted Nasmith.

More Catullus...

2010-02-15T12:22:00.004Z

Last night, I was reading more Catullus. This poem was hard at first, because I always look at the first word - a fundamentally English vice (would that Latin were my mother-tongue). This poem is about fidelity.

Iucundum, mea vita, mihi proponis amorem

hunc nostrum inter nos perpetuumque fore.

Di magni, facite ut vere promittere possit

atque id sincere dicat et ex animo,

ut liceat nobis tota perducere vita

aeternum hoc sanctae foedus amicitiae.

You promise me, O my life, that this, our love

will be pleasant and everlasting between us.

Great Gods, grant that she be able to promise truly

and that she says this sincerely, and from the soul,

so that it may be lawful for us to lead through life

this eternal covenant of holy friendship.

Notice that iucundum (pleasant) is the first word. A more ''English'' or simpler Latin construction would be: mihi proponis hunc amorem nostrum inter nos iucundum perpetuumque fore (thanks to The Cambridge Latin Anthology). I had a similar difficulty when trying to translate St Augustine's introduction to The City of God - both main verbs (defendere and suscepi respectively) were halfway down the page!

I find most modern ''poetic'' translations irksome, because they do not translate faithfully. Edward Caswall's translations of Aquinas' Eucharistic hymns is a prime example. Caswell was a skilled Latinist, but Tantum ergo Sacramentum veneremur cernui does not mean ''down in adoration falling, lo! the Sacred Host we hail;'' it means ''therefore, heads foremost, we venerate so great a Sacrament.'' This is, incidentally, why we make a profound bow at ''veneremur cernui.'' Literal translations do not, of course, capture the beauty of the Latin. No doubt Caswell, and perhaps Fortescue, would accuse me of pedantry and lacking imagination. Translation is an art, but am I sufficient enough an artist to be a translator (my ideal job)? All I do is read, understand, and commit the words to the inferior English tongue.

I am rather bored with Tolkien at the moment, which is why I am doing more Latin. This is clearly advantageous, but for me to be ''bored'' with Tolkien must indicate some underlying problem?

The above photo is of one of my ladies, the beautiful, though notorious, Parisian courtesan Liane de Pougy, who later in life became Sr Anne Mary. She looks like a Gainsborough portrait doesn't she?

An elegy...

2010-02-14T21:37:00.003Z

This elegy is one of my favourites. It is a short poem by Catullus, one of the neoterics, whose style I find very attractive. Catullus was in love with a woman he called Lesbia, whom Apuleius identifies as Clodia, the sister of Clodius Pulcher, and he describes her as confident, very beautiful and cultured. However, it turned out that she had a series of affairs, and the style of his love poetry changed as a result. It was quite tragic, but see what you think. The translation is my own:

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris? Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior. I loathe and I love. Perhaps you enquire, why I do this. I know not, but I feel it being done, and I am tormented.

Abebooks...

2010-02-14T18:42:00.002Z

If you love books like me, I'd strongly recommend abebooks.com. They have millions of books on sale, many of them really rare and quite cheap. I know I am hard up at the moment, but I just ordered two new books - an anthology of Bl. Hildegard of Bingen (in Latin with notes) and selections of poems by Catullus (in Latin with notes). They were 81p and 64p respectively...

''Are you going to get married?''

2010-02-14T15:44:00.002Z

A while ago, I wrote with some indignation about a common assumption people had about whether I was going to be a priest. Since this is absolutely out of the question, a young boy asked me yesterday (not in scorn, mind you) whether I was going to get married. I said, in all honesty, no. Why? Because I couldn't possibly get married. Even were I interested in relationships, I couldn't live with someone. I find living at home entirely irksome as it is. Fortunately, I don't have to share a room, but when I did, my brother and I had almost incessant rows, over space, things, ''sides'' (''why is your shirt on MY side of the room?'' etc, etc), and then there is the fact that I have never liked someone completely before. If I met someone with a similar personality, the chances are that I would not get on with them precisely because of this; if I met someone with whom I had little in common, I would be equally put out. No doubt you see the difficulty. That is not to say that I am as averse to getting married as to becoming a priest (''are you going to be a priest? Oh dear no!''; ''are you going to get married? probably not...''), but I rather doubt anyone could put up with me - even my own parents can't!

The alternative? The only one that is realistically and morally correct of course. To live a celibate life according to the teaching of the Church. Celibacy is an essential quality in me anyway, in my own character. I'd make an appalling priest and an apalling husband. It is rather grievous though that young children don't understand this. They see things only in terms of priesthood, marriage, or being homosexual - this even more grievous. When I was a young boy, I don't think I had heard of that word, let alone its connotation. As a young teenager, I had heard of effeminate men, but my parents just said they were ''pansies,'' and I was content. Being labelled one in scorn by a small boy is rather outside my experience...o tempora and all that...

A full day...

2010-02-13T22:42:00.002Z

Today was the Day with Mary at Our Lady of the Rosary, Blackfen. I arrived at the church at around 9:20am to help set up, but there was little for me to do. The Day with Mary is now quite familiar, having experienced it many times (last year I had to rush off to work after Mass, but I didn't have to undergo this unfortunate declension this year!) in various churches. We went in procession into the choir for prayers and devotions, the crowning of the Statue etc, after which we had an outdoor Procession with the Joyful Mysteries. Mass began afterwards, Cum Iubilo (my personal favourite), and Fr Tim preached a varied and edifying sermon on Mary's role as the Destroyer of Heresies; after which we had lunch. I brought my own lunch and sat down to read Catullus in the car park, but it was too cold and noisy out so I went inside. It was here that I had a chat with two good friends of mine, who ''put things into perspective'' for me (as my mother often says - I lack ''perspective;'' being too wrapped up in myself). It was edifying. Often I complained to my mother, when she said things about perspective, that this was just a veiled way of saying: ''there are others worse off than you are, so you have no right to complain about anything.'' Yes, I suppose this is a way of looking at it, but perspective is always good to have, even if it doesn't alter the way we feel about things. I still feel sour about University and the domestic situation - and a host of other things - but perhaps the enveloping bitterness is mitigated somewhat by perspective. Having contact with people is a blessing in this sense. One of the characteristics about the Autism Spectrum is an inherent desire (inherent in the sense that this is the ''fulfillment'' (again, where is Tolkien the master of words when you need him?!) of being a desire to be ''alone'') to be alone, perhaps more than is healthy for a human being, who is necessarily a social being - even hermits, physically alone, feel the presence of God. But being alone all the time is manifestly disadvantageous. If I had spent the day at home, refusing contact with the world, then perhaps I'd have crawled up with bitterness and nursed growing sentiments of hatred, etc, etc; don't let us go down that path.

Suffice to say, I was crestfallen, especially about some grievous news. It's funny how all one's troubles pale into insignificance compared with other problems. Anyway, after lunch we went back for Exposition, a Procession of the Blessed Sacrament (I was the umbella-bearer), and more Exposition (there were sermons during Exposition, and there was also a spot-light aimed at the Blessed Sacrament as well...). The Pange Lingua was not sung during the Procession, which I found disappointing, since I adore this hymn, but the Franciscan Sisters led the procession in other pertinent devotions. Afterwards, there were more Rosaries (with the ''Luminous'' Mysteries - which I, of course, avoided - what was that old pagan maxim? ''Nothing can be both new and true''...?) and other devotions. I was tired by this time and desired repose, and so I went into the hall for a cup of tea and to catch up on Catullus, neither of which I got, the place being overrun with noisy children! I adore the children; I think the mere fact of youth is wonderful, and I tend to dislike the old and the sensible (this is, incidentally, one of those unexplained mysteries of Asperger Syndrome - they get on so much better with people either far older than themselves or a lot younger than them. I am not sure why I have adopted a somewhat avuncular disposition to children, but I may devote another post to this soon). The children, however, very often do not understand me...

There was a tea-break at 3:30pm, where I caught up with my uncle's Godmother Maureen (a parishioner at the church for some 50-odd years, she cannot herself remember) and another friend (you must be thinking I did very little prayer at this Day with Mary!). Benediction followed. I was particularly impressed by the fact that the whole congregation joined in singing the Tantum Ergo Sacramentum (the church was filled almost to capacity, and so the force of this hit-home and was quite moving). One of the visiting young servers asked, when we came back into the Sacristy, whether it was ''tissue-time'' yet, which sure enough it was, and we went back into the church to wave good-bye to Our Lady for another year, waving our tissues and singing hymns with the richest sweet devotion. Fr Finigan then blessed the scapulars and miraculous medals and the day was over. After helping to clear up afterwards, I was assured that I was in fact more a help than a hindrance today (a nice change there then!), and I was invited to dinner at a friend's house, which was wonderful. The only bad thing was having to go home afterwards...

I want to assure readers that I have read and digested all your emails, many of which were moving and profoundly interesting. Many thanks for your kind offer of prayers, and I shall for my part hold you in my own prayers, immediately and continually, for what they're worth.

By the way, I don't know if you know, but in my present state of financial want (it's not as bleak as I let on - I just have a tendency to be melodramatic sometimes) I brought a lottery ticket yesterday for the Euromillions (the first I have ever brought). I received an email this evening informing me that there was some ''exciting news'' about my ticket, and thinking that I had won the jackpot, I went to view my ticket. I won £7. That is the last time I shall ever buy a lottery ticket.

The captives sad in Angband mourn...

2010-02-12T14:45:00.003Z

We're drawing towards the end of the Lay of Leithian, at least as it was composed by Tolkien in verse. We still have far to go with the narrative, but the Lay is almost over...some of you may be glad to hear! When I started my synopsis of The Silmarillion, in May of last year in fact, I had not given thought over much as to how long it would take. When I arrived at the gest of Beren and Lúthien, I decided that it is better to read the legends of the Elder Days in verse, since this was how the Hobbits would have heard them when they stayed in Rivendell. When we come to the Lay of the Children of Húrin, I think I shall just skip the verse and let you read it alongside an abridged synopsis. I can only do my best.

In the last post, we arrived at the ''moment-of-truth'' (as the saying goes). Imagine, the Dark Lord and his diabolical court are in an uneasy sleep, ready to wake up at any moment, and these two furtive creatures, frail and alone and utterly beyond aid, have wrested one of the Silmarils from the Iron Crown. Then, Beren conceives of going beyond his Oath to Thingol and attempts to cut all three from the Crown. The knife snaps! A splinter wounds the cheek (in the Lay it is his brow) of Morgoth and he stirs in sleep, as does his court. What happens next? The Lay goes on:

Up through the dark and echoeing gloom

as ghosts from many-tunnelled tomb,

up from the mountains' roots profound

and the vast menace underground,

their limbs aquake with deadly fear,

terror in eyes, and dread in ear,

together fled they, by the beat

affrighted of their flying feet.

At last before them far away

they saw the glimmering wraith of day,

the mighty archway of the gate -

and there a horror new did wait.

Upon the threshold, watchful, dire,

his eyes new-kindled with dull fire,

towered Carcharoth, a biding doom:

his jaws were gaping like a tomb,

his teeth were bare, his tongue aflame;

aroused he watched that no one came,

no flitting shade nor hunted shape,

seeking from Angband to escape.

Now past that guard what guile or might

could thrust from death into the light?

He heard afar their hurrying feet,

he snuffled an odour strong and sweet;

he smelled their coming long before

they marked the waiting threat at door.

His limbs he stretched and shook off sleep,

then stood at gaze. With sudden leap

upon them as they sped he sprang,

and his howling in the arches rang.

Too swift for thought his onset came,

too swift for any spell to tame;

and Beren desperate then aside

thrust Lúthien, and forth did stride

unarmed, defenceless to defend

Tinúviel until the end.

With left he caught at hairy throat,

with right, from which the radiance welled

of the holy Silmaril he held.

As gleam of swords in fire there flashed

the fangs of Carcharoth, and crashed

together like a trap, that tore

the hand about the wrist, and shore

through brittle bone and sinew nesh,

devouring the frail mortal flesh;

and in that cruel mouth unclean

engulfed the jewel's holy sheen.

[Here ends the Lay of Leithian]

Student Life and me...

2010-02-11T12:37:00.003Z

Gosh, where to begin...

Some of the comments I received (not all of which have been published) for the last post have given me a lot to think about. I daresay, they have told me more about myself, how I see things at any rate, than I could ever have personally imagined. Essentially, it's all about fitting in I think, or at least being able to facilitate my abilities in a context which, without a piece of paper telling the world I am qualified, I would otherwise be unable. ''Having a piece of paper...''; this is how I see having a Degree when my mind is riddled with thoughts of abject fatalism and hopelessness (being acutely aware of my present failure in academia - I shall return to this presently) - it brings about feelings of scorn for people who do have that piece of paper: thoughts like ''just because you conformed to a sausage factory mentality, churned out pieces of derivative drivel, and sat a few exams, doesn't make you more intelligent than me.'' Etc, etc. Naturally, when I read the works of Tolkien and Wilde (my hero), both men who left Oxford with Firsts in Classics and Literature, such bitter sentiments are waived, for I perceive then the inherent worth of University education. Genius pervades their works. But again, this starts the cycle off - why am I not educated? Why did I not go to Oxford? Why did I not learn Latin and Greek at school (these subjects were the nucleus of Tolkien's education at King Edward's) - never mind about P.E and other such useless pursuits. One thing I told my P.E teacher at school, when held to account for my constant absenteeism, was that P.E was the recourse of the markedly stupid. Education is found only in the study of Latin and Greek.

I digress. When I went to University in 2006, I was the happiest soul on earth. I had lots of money, I met a few like-minded people (not all of the students were to my taste), and I was studying Latin for the first time (I adored my teacher, I still do - she was the most educated person I had ever met). My difficulties soon started though. My first essay I wrote easily (on Origen's interpretation of Scripture), for which I was given a First. The next essay, however, (on Fundamental Theology), was different. The subject matter seemed rather boring, and sitting down trying to relate theologies of revelation proved too much, so I put it off until the next week. Instead, I went into the stacks to read periodicals and St Augustine. Then the next week came round, and I returned to the work flippantly, but it was still too boring, and the glamour of learning Latin and finding a well-stacked library were still new upon me, so I went down again into the stacks. Then the deadline finally arrived, and I spent all day (literally in fact; I missed all lectures - except Latin of course, you understand that I would never miss Latin) that day at my computer, surrounded by books of theology (even Tolkien), typing away until 5:00pm. I produced an essay several thousands of words beyond the word limit, but which I thought was good (considering the subject area was not my strong point, and I was not that interested). I submitted the essay at reception, filled in the relevant paper work, and then went off for Mass at Maiden Lane.

Naturally, I was marked down for several things; chief among them being relevance to the subject matter and failure to properly answer the question (also not adhering to the word limit had consequences). Incidentally, the essay was described as ''highly conservative and militant.'' I was given a 2:2, which to me is just a polite way of saying ''you're not good enough;'' and I went away from my tutorial feeling rather sour and depressed, and I reproached myself. I found no solace in Latin (which was still, of course, rudimentary) or even Tolkien, and so I went away. After Christmas, I never went back.

Between January 2007 and enrollment again in September 2007, I squandered most of my life savings on ''riotous living'' (let's say - I will not elaborate over much). I kept my Latin up by purchasing The Cambridge Latin Course. However, knowing the reaction my parents would have, I never told them anything. And so, I had to get up early every morning and spend the days trying to occupy my time. I went all over the place - up town, to Oxford, down to the coast, to the cinema, to Bluewater etc, wasting my money. I got bored of this eventually (as you would), and gave up. When my parents asked me why I had stopped going to University, I riddled them with falsehood about various things (tutors going away to Conferences, sabbaticals, Reading Weeks etc). I was also low on funds, and so there was little I could do.

I did enroll again, with the aid of my therapist, and this time I was prepared to do some real work. I started the Degree from scratch, for the sake of ease (I didn't want to have to catch up on most of the work you see), and I did markedly better than my last attempt. For that essay on Fundamental Theology I got a 2:1 this time - which I was prepared to accept, knowing my limited capacity to cope with a tedious subject, and 2:1 is at least next to First. But similar difficulties arose with my essay on the Council of Chalcedon. It was never an intellectual difficulty with the subject matter; this was never a problem. It was, rather, an inability to produce substandard work within a certain timeframe. I am terribly pedantic and a natural perfectionist (typical features of Asperger Syndrome), and so (and this is especially pertinent to an essay on Christological heresy!) trying to handle the philological significance of certain words proved tremendously difficult. I spent literally hours ruminating over the significance of words; how Substantia relates to Hypostasis, how Ousia can be distinguished from Essentia etc. I missed the deadline, but knowing my difficulties, my tutor was clement and allowed me extra time. When I did not produce the essay, I went to have a meeting with him, in which he said to me: ''Patrick, you're not being asked to compose a written masterpiece or a treatise on Chalcedonian Christology; moreover, this is an Undergraduate essay and I think you're taking it a bit too seriously.'' In the end, I sent him an attachment of what I had composed so far, and he gave me a First, since he said he knew where I was going with it, and that it was by far the best he'd seen that year. Was then all that trouble in vain? All those long hours I had spent, reading and re-reading The Acts of the Council of Chalcedon, St Cyril's letters to Nestorius etc. I had similar trouble with other essays, although I was confessedly not as interested with them. The best essay I wrote was about the history of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception in relation to liturgical devotion and the other Marian dogma and titles. I enjoyed writing that immensely, and I was again given a First. Alas, though, that I was not wise enough to save it to a USB - my computer crashed sometime two years ago, and with it went everything.

It was not, however, all Firsts. Certainly Latin and Church History were going smoothly, but my other subjects suffered terribly. Biblical Studies I found altogether boring, and so my essays in those subjects were substandard. I was given a 2:1 for my essay on Creation Myths (Gilgamesh, the Atrahasis etc), only because my tutor thought there was ''intelligence behind it.'' I hated getting marked below a First. I had as much of a problem with my essay on St Paul's Epistle to the Galatians as I had with Chalcedon, although this time, I never in fact submitted it for marking. I was given over, moreover, to endless distractions. When I should have been reading the exegetical works of Scripture, I was instead reading the Corpus Christianorum; when I should have been studying St Mark's Gospel, I was translating Virgil. Then came the exams, and I never sat them. I looked at past exam questions, and I feared that my knowledge of the subject matter was lacking. When I enrolled again in 2008, I opted to take the Degree part-time, which suited me better (I would have only one essay to concentrate on at a time, and more time to complete it), and this would have worked, but owing largely to domestic trouble with my sister, I was again frustrated by failure.

The year 2009 came around, and I was no closer to achieving my Degree than when I started three years before. And so, this is the situation: by enrollment in September 2009, I had failed to procure the outstanding work and sit the exams, and so, the decision of the Academic board was that a degree at this stage was not suitable for me. I was literally crushed by this. I suppose the only good thing was that I could devote myself entirely to Latin. But the bad things are: I have no money, no Degree, no prospects and my parents have made it quite clear that I am a burden to them.

What do I want, then, out of life? As a schoolboy, I always aspired to be a University Lecturer, and to work with Latin in some context. As it is, I feel misplaced. Failure in academia, to me, is tantamount to being thrust outside into exile, to wander hopelessly through foreign kingdoms. This is not a grandiloquent way of expressing an inability to cope with failure; this is as it is. I do not belong in retail, and whenever I clock in at work, and I listen to the people with whom I work - common Godless people talking about nonsense all the time. Only yesterday in fact, a woman came up to me with a big grin on her face and she had just come in from outside (it was snowing), and she said: ''ooh, innit cold out'' (I cannot conceive of how to type a strong cockney, or at least local, accent), to which I asked her what she meant by cold and why she had any grounds for not expecting cold weather on a Winters day. Her attempts at answering were, of course, feeble, and I told her, ergo, that she had said something entirely meaningless. I think instances like this demonstrate why most people I work with think I am conceited.

What, then, do I want? I want to go back to University in peace, to study a subject (Classics) I find interesting, and to be free from belli domestici (how I wish my sister was never conceived) and distractions. I want to to be accomplished and recognised. I want art and beauty. A lot of the difficulties I had at University were a direct consequence of my condition. Someone asked me once: would you, then, wish to be cured? Certainly not, no matter how much one might curse the inferiority of one's circumstances. Were I cured, what would be left of me? I am terrified of poverty (I am not, however, greedy for money) and disrepute; but unless things change for the better for me, this is all there is. Like St Francis of Assisi (one of my patrons), I would become perforce wedded to poverty; but I doubt it would suit me as humbly and pertinently as it suited as noble an Apostle of the Gospel as St Francis.

A friend gave me a lift home from Church a few weeks ago, and we were talking about my life, such as it is. And she said to her son: ''Patrick is very intelligent.'' To which the boy replied: ''if he's so intelligent, why is he still in retail?''

I said nothing then, but I thought to myself ''yes, why am I still there?''

O tempora...

2010-02-10T13:02:00.003Z

I was not sure, when I finished this, whether or not to publish it, but I am going to anyway, since no one else that I know seems interested. You may, if you get to the end, think this blog to be nothing more than my vent for frustration, but there needs to be some vent, I suppose. There is not much room for University drop-outs is there? In hindsight, going to University to read Theology is probably one of the worst choices I have ever made. I have landed myself in a Student Finance debt, which I cannot possibly pay off for years to come, and therefore the prospects of my ever getting a respectable career have vanished completely. I don't see why some of them cannot be waived, or refunded by the University to the local council, since I did not in fact come away with a Degree, and I certainly did not benefit from the few lectures I attended.

I have been looking around for another suitable Degree, and I found one which was almost perfect (part-time over four years). But there is always a grotesque catch isn't there? The Degree is indeed suitable, especially pertinent for me, but they say that you can't apply if you're in debt to the Student Finance people. Heaven and earth! Am I to remain in a low-paying, zero respect job for the rest of my adult life? I can put it no better than saying that it feels like there is a great ugly bully holding a degree just over my head, and that I am jumping and jumping, trying to reach it in vain, and that it is just out-of-reach, and that this bully is laughing his socks off. And people? They're simply not interested. My therapist just sits there shaking his head, and going through ''options'' which I am simply not interested in. It's all right for him, though; he has a Masters degree, his wife is also a psychologist, and he has a lovely house in Kent with no financial worries at all. My parents? Their response to my difficulties at University is to simply stop speaking to me, or in my father's case to start bellowing at me about ''contributing'' - and then they wonder why I never tell them anything! Quem patronum rogaturus and all that...

The whole thing is enough to make me crawl into some hole and die, cursing both life and death - especially, and this is what angers me the most, when I see people, thousands of people, going to University and coming away with Degrees (in stupid things like Media Studies and James Bond films!) when they don't, in my estimation, deserve them. I would go back to Tolkien's day, when University was exclusively for the rich and the intelligent.

My father summed it all up the other day. He said: ''Patrick, no one cares if you can read Latin. People do care, however, if you say 'I can read Latin, and I earn £100,000 a year...'''

St Scholastica...

2010-02-10T11:06:00.003Z

Happy Feast all! Today is the feast of St Scholastica, the sister of St Benedict. Early monastic history is fascinating (although in the days of Sts Benedict and Scholastica, this can hardly be called ''early''). Quite off topic, but anyone who is interested in the rites of Holy Week in 4th century Jerusalem, and in the history of nuns, might like to read the Itinerarium Egeriae (Travels of Egeria), a diary, written to her sorores, about the liturgical practices of Jerusalem. We read parts of it in Latin and I found the whole thing fascinating. Of course, her Latin can be rather eccentric at times, but don't let's hold that against her.

I say all that because I know nothing at all about St Scholastica, other than her being related to St Benedict...

Collects...

2010-02-08T23:48:00.003Z

Whilst in the Theology Library this afternoon, I was nosing through the rubrics of The Sarum Missal (an 1868 tome). It is entirely in English, which was disappointing, but it was interesting nevertheless. I turned to the section on Collects, and it said (I didn't in fact borrow it, so this is not verbatim): it is never lawful to have more than seven Collects, since Christ made no more than seven petitions in the Lord's Prayer. I had never hitherto thought of this, but it is certainly interesting to have established a link between Collects (the Latin is simply Oratio, or Prayer, and O'Connell, typically pedantic, seldom calls them Collects. I heard once that the word collect symbolises the ''gathering together'' of the prayers of the Faithful, and the Conclusion is addressed, as are all the ancestral Christian prayers, to the Father, through the Son and in the Holy Ghost) and the Lord's Prayer, said to be the most perfect. A nice way of summing up. I wonder how old the Collect is?

I told all this to an experienced MC this evening - who, not surprisingly, laughed and told me to get a life...

More Jonah...

2010-02-08T01:00:00.004Z

Forgive the lack of posts but I have been lacking a lot of energy lately; I have finished my translation of Jonah (before the publication of Tolkien's version too!), and the inevitable presence of a few errors is probably due to this (at one point, I had to scribble out a whole sentence because I got the tense wrong - I wrote to my teacher in the margin ''no Patrick, operiantur is a Present Passive Subjunctive!''). I shall send it off to my most excellent Latin teacher tomorrow (that is, if I don't see her). I had never read Jonah before, and having done so in Latin, I don't much like him - he was rather obstinate and foolish. In an unpublished letter to his son Michael in 1957, Tolkien wrote: ''Incidentally, if you look at Jonah you'll find that the 'whale' - it is not really said to be a whale, but a big fish - is quite unimportant. The real point is that God is much more merciful than 'prophets', is easily moved by penitence, and won't be dictated to even by high ecclesiastics whom he has himself appointed.'' (The Italics are mine) I wonder, given the time he wrote this, and the curious use of the word ''ecclesiastics'', whether Tolkien had more on his mind than Jonah?

Rare Tolkien photo...

2010-02-06T00:11:00.002Z

I found this just now on The Tolkien Library. It is a rare photograph of a Tolkien family gathering in September of 1955. From left to right: Edith (Mrs Tolkien), Mrs Cassidy, Hilary (Tolkien's younger brother), Fr John Tolkien (Tolkien's eldest son - interestingly, I have never in fact seen a photo of him), the Master himself, June, Angela and Tolkien's aunt (then aged 84) Jane.

Liturgy and conscience...

2010-02-05T14:40:00.003Z

This is not going to be a long post, since I have not the energy at the moment. Someone said something to me the other day about the importance of staying within one's parish for Liturgy instead of going off to other churches dotted about London for Liturgy ''more to my taste.'' My mother said something very similar herself in her veiled attacks on the ''snobbish'' Latin Mass. Is this such a bad thing, I ask? It is a great boon, living in suburban London that is, to have so many more traditional Rite Masses on offer (I say more traditional because not all of them are the Old Rite). I don't go to all of them, but I go to a fair number of them. But forgive me if I don't quite understand the grievance about it all. A former Protestant friend of mine, we have since fallen out of contact, sympathised with me about this and said: ''I expect it is better to go to a church farther afield where one feels more comfortable in the worship of God than to simply 'throw in the towel' and just feel miserable in a local parish setting.'' What he meant, of course, was that I was doing the sensible thing according to the dictates of my conscience. Liturgy is the most important thing in this world.

When the Traditional Latin Mass was in exile (in reality, if not according to the law), I was forced to travel all over the place for a decent Mass, and I feel at home in the Traditional Mass. At New Rite Masses, I often feel very hot inside and I do my utmost to suppress a rising wrath, when I consider the violence so many reprobate men did to the Liturgy...well this is not about all that. I am lucky because my actual parish has Traditional Liturgy, so for Sundays and Holydays I don't have to travel into town. Parishes are important, but I would say that in the last 40 years of liturgical crisis, they have become less important. I would rather go to a Mass where I am a complete stranger than go to a Mass in my parish at which I didn't feel at all comfortable. How can I worship the Lord in spirit and in truth if I am sat there feeling sullen and ill-tempered? I am glad to have a parish, since the parish ought to be (and is, in my case), a love oriented and catholic setting, modeled on the Church herself which mirrors the inner life of the Blessed Trinity; but if the Liturgy vanished, what then...?

More Quest of the Silmaril...

2010-02-04T12:59:00.003Z

The last time we looked at the Lay of Leithian, we saw how the maiden Lúthien put Morgoth, the mightiest of all the dwellers in Eä, to shame, even in his own hall. The Lay goes on...

Beneath the vast and empty throne

the adders lay like twisted stone,

the wolves like corpses foul were strewn;

and there lay Beren deep in swoon:

no thought, no dream nor shadow blind

moved in the darkness of his mind.

''Come forth, come forth! The hour hath knelled,

and Angband's mighty lord is felled!

Awake, awake! For we two meet

alone before the aweful seat.''

This voice came down into the deep

where he lay drowned in wells of sleep;

a hand flower-soft and flower-cool

passed o'er his face, and the still pool

of slumber quivered. Up then leaped

his mind to waking; forth he crept.

The wolvish fell he flung aside

and sprang unto his feet, and wide

staring amid the soundless gloom

he gasped as one living shut in tomb.

There to his side he felt her shrink,

felt Lúthien now shivering sink,

her strength and magic dimmed and spent,

and swift his arms about her went.

Before his feet he saw amazed

the gems of Fëanor, that blazed

with white fire glistening in the crown

of Morgoth's might now fallen down.

To move that helm of iron vast

no strength he found, and thence aghast

he strove with fingers mad to wrest

the guerdon of their hopeless quest,

till in his heart there fell the thought

of that cold morn whereon he fought

with Curufin; then from his belt

the sheathless knife he drew, and knelt,

and tried its hard edge, bitter-cold,

o'er which in Nogrod songs had rolled

of dwarvish armourers singing slow

to hammer-music long ago.

Iron as tender-wood it clove

and mail as woof of loom it rove.

The claws of iron that held the gem,

it bit them through and sundered them;

a Silmaril he clasped and held,

and the pure radiance slowly welled

red glowing through the clenching flesh.

Again he stooped and strove afresh

one more of the holy jewels three

that Fëanor wrought of yore to free.

But round those fires was woven fate:

not yet should they leave the halls of hate.

The dwarvish steel of cunning blade

by treacherous smiths of Nogrod made

snapped; then ringing sharp and clear

in twain it sprang, and like a spear

or errant shaft the brow it grazed

of Morgoth's sleeping head, and dazed

their hearts with fear. For Morgoth groaned

with voice entombed, like wind that moaned

in hollow caverns penned and bound.

There came a breath; a gasping sound

moved through the halls, as Orcs and beast

turned in their dreams of hideous feast;

in sleep uneasy Balrogs stirred,

and far above was faintly heard

an echo that in tunnels rolled,

a wolvish howling long and cold.

Education...

2010-02-03T17:29:00.002Z

I have often said that I received no education at school. This is not a slight against teachers, teaching being a noble profession (that is not, of course, to say that all teachers are noble), but it is a self-evident truth. I am not very well educated. I am privileged to know, and have spoken with, many well-educated people (my tutor, my Latin teacher, my parish priest and many others). I have often spoken with them about their education, and told them about mine, and I always end up feeling altogether rustic and brought up ill. My Latin teacher, for instance, read at least three works of Shakespeare a year at school. I, on the other hand, read only two in my whole five years at school (Macbeth and Romeo & Juliet, which I cordially loathed). Her History lessons spanned two and a half thousand years; mine didn't go beyond the Suffragettes. I could go on, but you probably know the story already. With the exception of Latin, the only things I know that I consider to be of any intrinsic worth I have taught myself. And what a horrible thing to have to own up to - being an autodidact! I daresay, my only real education came merely four years ago, when I was taught to conjugate Paro in the Present Tense...

In Purificatione Beatae Mariae Virginis, quae dicitur ''Candlemas''

2010-02-02T11:28:00.003Z

Happy Feast day to all my readers! Candlemas is one of my favourite feasts in the liturgical year for a number of reasons: it is a double feast of Our Lady and Our Lord, and for this reason it encapsulates one of the central mysteries of the Catholic Faith; apropos, how the cult of the Blessed Virgin developed in the Church as a logical juxtaposition to Eve's fall, Mary's relation to Christ in the mystery of Redemption etc. It is one of those feasts where the two Christological themes (Mariology is a form of christology in my opinion) interpenetrate and are seen beautifully in the context of a mother and child in the Temple of God. I see Marian devotion in terms of logic, but there is manifestly more to it than that. I also love Candlemas because of the Liturgy, which to all Catholics ought to be the chief direction of all loves and desires; there is something markedly sacred and resonant about the blessing of candles and the procession.

I was going to translate one of Bl Hildegard of Bingen's (unrelated) Sequences in praise of Our Lady (O viridissima virga, ave), but I haven't had much time (it isn't especially hard but there are one or two points I wasn't sure about and my Latin teacher hasn't got back to me yet! - her style of Latin is rather excentric, which to me indicates that her tutoring was not that good. She seems overly reminiscent of the Scriptures, especially the Psalter, a lot of the time, often saying things like '' et factum est sermo Domini ad me dicens...'' etc, and her spelling is often atrocious!). Instead, here is part of her Symphonia (no. 13) which I translated a while ago; again, I haven't had time to properly peruse it for solecisms, but I'm sure it's mostly accurate:

O quam magnum est in viribus suis

latus viri quo Deus

formam mulieris produxit,

quam fecit speculum

omnis ornamenti sui

et amplexionem omnis creaturae suae.

Inde concinunt caelestia organa

et miratur omnis terra,

o laudabilis Maria,

quia Deus te valde amavit.

O quam valde plangendum

et lugendum est

quod tristicia in crimine

per consilium serpentis

in mulierem fluxit.

Nam ipsa mulier,

quam Deus matrem omnium posuit,

viscera sua cum vulneribus ignorantiae

decerpsit,

et plenum dolorem generi suo protulit.

Sed, O Aurora,

de ventre tuo novus sol processit

quia omnia criminal Eve abstersit

et maiorem benedictionem

per te protulit

quam Eva hominibus nocuisset.

Unde, o salvatrix,

quae novum lumen

humano generi protulisti,

collige membra filii tui

ad caelestem armoniam.

O how great is the strength among his men,

the greatness of men, from which God brought forth the form of a woman.

He made her as a mirror

of all of his adornments

and the embrace of all his creation.

Thence the heavenly harmony sounded

and all the earth marvelled thereat,

O praiseworthy Mary,

since God has greatly loved you.

O how plangent and mournful it is

that sadness in crime

through the counsel of the serpent

flowed into a woman,

For that woman,

whom God placed as mother of all,

destroyed her body with the wounds of ignorance

and brought much sorrow upon her sons.

But, O Dawn,

from your womb a new sun has come forth

who has scared away all the sin of Eve

and has brought forth

greater blessing through you

than Eve did hurt unto Men.

Whence, O saving lady,

you have brought forth a new light to humankind,

gather together the members of your son

into the heavenly harmony.

Book news et al...

2010-02-02T00:14:00.002Z

I received an email from the publishers today, who said that my proposal was accepted. Although they also said that book proposals take up to six weeks to process (for some obscure reason which they did not explain). I expect, being a specialist publisher, that they have to ''sift the wheat'' in a certain sense - decide what is publishable and what isn't - but I still can't understand why a book proposal takes so long to sort out. In the meantime, I am still short of money - and a friend showed me another greatly interesting book this evening which I have added to my ''wish-list.'' My Amazon basket (that is, the stuff I haven't ''saved for later'') is currently at £53 or thereabouts - dare I add more? It has been a while since I treated myself, and so I think I shall just go to the checkout regardless...

Septuagesima...

2010-01-31T21:27:00.003Z

Forgive the lateness of this post, but I have been with good friends all day (and what a lovely day I had - the only bad thing was having to go home to more belli domestici). Today is of course Septuagesima, with seventy days until the great Pascha, and the Church begins this ''semi-penitential'' season with a beautiful (and personally pertinent) Introit:

Circumdederunt me gemitus mortis, dolores inferni circumdederunt me: et in tribulatione mea invocavi Dominum, et exaudivit de templo sancto suo vocem meam. Diligam te, Domine, fortitudo mea: Dominus firmamentum meum, et refugiam meam, et liberator meus. Gloria Patri.

The sighs of death have surrounded me, the sorrows of hell have encompassed me: and in my plight I have called upon the Lord, and he has heard my voice from his holy temple. I shall love you, O Lord, my strength: the Lord is my support, and my refuge, and my deliverer. Glory be to the Father.

Now, I think, is the time to give earnest thought as to the Lenten fast. Before I ''converted'' to the Old Rite, I never properly conceived of the magnitude of the Great Pascha, and a sort of ante-fast to the great fast (which seems to me to be the character of the gesima weeks) seems very opportune in this respect. I fast too little, and often ''forget'' to do so on the Vigils of Feasts, and I failed just before the ''finish line'' during Lent last year. By the Grace of God, this will not happen again...

Ultramontanism and the Liturgy...

2010-01-30T13:41:00.002Z

I am no liturgical scholar. Most of my liturgical posts have been translations of Introits and Collects, musings about certain aspects of Liturgy and liturgical history (liturgical theology is a modern thing in my opinion), rubrics etc. I have here a cogent question to raise: to what extent has the ultramontane Papacy done greater harm than good to the Liturgy of the Church? It was a Pope who changed the Breviary hymns to better resemble the metre of the Classical age in 1629; it was a Pope who, to lessen the burden of the Ferial Office, authorized priests to celebrate Votive offices in the late 19th century (thereby going against the very first Rubric in the Missal - Missa quotidie dicitur secundum ordinem Officii); it was a Pope who changed the Breviary and other parts of the Mass 1911-1913; it was a Pope who authorized the changes to the Rites of Holy Week (beyond recognition) in the 1950s; it was a Pope who authorized and approved the Novus Ordo in 1969. These days we rely solely on the authority of the Pope (a very great Pope I daresay) to have the Old Rite...liturgical history, then, is not without a sense of irony.

Fr John Hunwicke over at Liturgical Notes has an interesting similar post about the process of canonization. He rightly says that Pope Benedict XVI has been wise to give this back to local churches. I am very much in favour of legitimate ''local custom'' - moreover I would go back to the days when there were no Missals or Breviaries, but were Antiphonaries, Sacramentaries etc (I wonder what the implications would be for the priest at High Mass if we did away with the Missal - would he still have to read everything? I would hope he would, since this seems to me to be integral to the Mass); I would that there were no ''Code of Canon Law'' but there were the Sacred Canons again; I would that there were a whole Psalm for the Introit rather than two verses, I would that instead of just the liturgical choir deserving a censing, the whole congregation at High Mass were censed individually (the Subdeacon can and should answer the Suscipiat); I would that Low Mass were abolished and there were more sung Office (no matter how much you go on about ''active participation'' - reason dictates that the congregation at Low Mass are indeed mere spectators, and spectators to what? a very unedifying, boring and certainly abridged form of Liturgy; no more pews etc. I would also that the training of priests for the celebration of High Mass would stop referring to things like ''the rest is as at Low Mass'' - High Mass is the definitive form of Liturgy, not Low Mass. More Sequences for greater feasts...

If you did away with the idea that you should have Mass everyday, more than once a day, then you could have more High Mass - at any rate, such an attitude towards the Mass only leads to complacency about the Blessed Sacrament. My somewhat strange opinion of Low Mass is not a new thing. My first experience of the Old Rite (although it was not in fact the Old Rite) was a Low Mass at the Oratory on a Sunday 5 years ago, and I came away rather perplexed - I even thought ''no wonder people desired reform!''

The Orthodox Church does not have this problem. From personal experience, their Liturgy is at once sacred but not exclusive to the clergy behind the Iconostasis. The greater litanies encourage ''active participation'' (although I would rather they stick to the liturgical languages of their respective churches - Church Slavonic for Russia, Greek for the Greek Church - I was most unimpressed the last time I attended an Akathist to the Theotokos at the Russian Orthodox cathedral at Kensington, half of it was in Church Slavonic, which was exquisite, but the other half was in a kind of liturgically stylized form of modern English which I thought was impertinent - rather like hearing Gregorian chant in English; it just doesn't work) in the congregation; people who know the liturgical tongue can join the clergy in singing the Akathist etc; and there are no pews and so the church feels clearer and has an atmosphere more conducive to worship.

There is nothing wrong with the Liturgy of the Roman Rite, but I am often compelled to ask: what went wrong? Pews, Low Mass and other such unfortunate terms seem to have stifled it. The answer? I am no authority, but I'd suggest do away with pews, and Low Mass, and bring back more incense, more chant (no more Mass VIII and Credo III though), more ''legitimate local custom,'' more litanies, more Latin hymns (English hymns, well any devotion in the vulgar tongue, goes against the grain somewhat), and especially sung Office (a good place to start would be Sunday Vespers, and perhaps Vespers for Holydays and other great Feasts). As I have said, there is nothing wrong with the Liturgy of the Roman Rite but there seems to go with it a sort of attitude inimical to liturgical things such as incense and chant...comments, suggestions, protests etc in the comment box...

Ambulans...

2010-01-29T18:32:00.003Z

Some people think I'm off my head because I go for long walks in the freezing cold. I say to them that if I didn't walk, I'd get no exercise at all. Well this evening I was well-rewarded. I walked up to the nearby woods (about 20 minutes walk for me, 25 if I'm being lazy and slow), as is my wont if it is late in the day and I don't want to go far. I left the house at 4:35pm. As I was walking down the hill, I looked over the roof-tops and saw a most beautiful evening Moon, with a pale golden hew suspended over a turquoise clear sky canopy. I shivered, since a cold wind blew, and I was reminded of a passage from The Lord of the Rings (can anyone guess which one?); delighted with this, I carried on. I reached the woods at 4:55pm and strolled in.

The woods were nice and quiet and warm, since only the wind was cold and, unlike the last time I was there, there were no people in sight (I walk also for contemplative ends, and I find that people distract my thoughts and ruin the whole time), so it was even better - I had the whole place to myself. I found the broad path that leads up the hill to the open field and I walked along at my leisure. I was thinking about the Blue Wizards mostly, but other things as well. When I got to the field, I looked out over the world and saw what was left of a most marvellous sunset (not the best I've ever seen, not by a long shot, but I have never not enjoyed a sunset); a fiery sky interpenetrated with purple clouds, sadly over rooftops and not the mountains or the sea. I wish I had brought my camera.

I remember talking to a...well he isn't my friend, but I told him one night of my especial appreciation of the great lights of the firmament, especially the Moon on cold clear nights, or sunsets there to illumine and warm the cold hearts of men. I said that sunsets and the moon were always beautiful and poignant since they were so evanescent, rather like the especial form and shapeliness of a favourite flower, like lilies or purple saxifrage - they are always similar, but never the same, and unless they are ''captured'' in a photograph for instance they would remain only in the memory. The moon will only be seen wreathed in silver clouds of a certain shape once, one night only in the vast history of the Earth, and perhaps by only one man, since most people have their eyes downwards. I think this is one of the reasons I like Tolkien, since his own extraordinary grasp of this sad truth is one of the central motifs of his work; the indefinate and irretrievable loss of something beautiful. I wrote about this a while ago in my post on Memory.

I was forced to leave, though, as it was getting dark, and had to take the main road home. Mindful of that passage from The Lord of the Rings, I stopped off to get some wine on the way home...

''Are you going to be a priest?''

2010-01-29T14:34:00.003Z

The other day, while on my ''tea-break'' at work, I was reading a book called Fairy Tales in Latin, which is very amusing. It is a collection of twelve familiar fairy stories, in Latin, for use both as a means of comprehension and written translation. Since I don't want to bring a host of dictionaries and grammars with me to work, it is a good easy exercise for me to keep my Latin up. I had only passed the first page of Bella Dormiens when a woman from the Grocery department walked in, got a drink from the vending machine, and sat down on the adjacent table. She looked over at me and asked what I was reading, and so I held the book aloft. She then said ''gosh, that's clever, are they really in Latin?'' I said ''yes,'' and showed her the page I was reading. She then said ''can you understand it?'' I said ''yes;'' and she then asked me to tell her what I was reading, so I went back to the beginning of the story and did an extempore translation for her. She seemed impressed with this, and asked why I studied Latin. I said that until recently (since it has become associated with ''elitism'' and absurd things like class-distinction - knowledge of Latin is not very egalitarian is it) knowledge of Latin was the litmus test as to whether someone was properly educated or not, that I greatly enjoyed Latin, was fascinated by the form of the words, found it aesthetically gratifying etc. She then asked me whether I wanted to be a priest. I promptly said no (well I actually said ''ugh, Lord no!'')

You may be surprised by my reaction, but there are various reasons for it. When I was very little, my grandparents thought that I was going to be a priest one day because I went eagerly to Mass every Sunday (twice on a Sunday in fact, with my mother in the morning and then with my grandparents in the evening, after which I would have Sunday dinner at their house), prayed the Rosary, was very courteous and grave (except to people who exasperated me) etc, etc (I may never tire of ''blowing my own trumpet'' as the saying goes, but to others this may seem conceited - at least that's what my mother says when I boast of things). In fact one day, my old parish had a visit from a prelate of some sort (I thought he was a Bishop, but my nanny said he wasn't, and so I guess this was the Archdeacon; that is, the modern day ''Vicar General''), and I was rather put out when my grandparents told him that I was going to be ordained priest when I was older, and that this was in accordance with my personal wishes and vocation. I said to the Archdeacon that I had no such wish and that I would be no good as a priest.

As I grew older, this false assumption went with me, through school, Sixth Form College, work and even University. I do get tired of being asked this same question by people, and the more I am asked the more I am put off by ordination. Why don't people understand that one can be a religious young man and not have a vocation to the priesthood? It is just as well that I have no such vocation anyway, since I cannot canonically be ordained. And anyway, why be a priest when you can boss the priest about as an MC?

My little book...

2010-01-28T13:50:00.003Z

I am giving earnest thought to publishing a book, or at least trying to. The libellus I envision would be a collection of short essays, musings, questions (with one or two illustrations) - a sort of ''memoir,'' but not quite - about Asperger Syndrome. I would naturally incorporate some of the stuff on this blog, but chapters would needs be written from scratch. One or two are already germinating in my mind - one would certainly be about my education (or lack thereof). I have found a publisher who specializes in this area, Jessica Kingsley Publishers, who are very good. Who would read my book I wonder?

Any suggestions for chapters or themes in the comment box please...or better still, if you think I should give up the idea completely!

Sancti Ioannes Chrysostomi...

2010-01-27T11:34:00.002Z

Ecclesiam tuam, quaesumus, Domine, gratia caelestis amplificet: quam beati Ioannis Chrysostomi Confessoris tui atque Pontificis illustrare voluisti gloriosis meritis et doctrinis. Per Dominum. We beseech thee, O Lord, that heavenly grace may increase your Church: which you willed to illumine by the merits and teachings of the blessed Confessor and Bishop John Chrysostom. Through the Lord.

St John Chrysostom (344-407), Bishop, Confessor and Doctor of the Church, whose Feast we celebrate today, was rightly named the ''Golden-mouthed'' (Χρυσόστομος, that is Chrysóstomos), on account of his profound genius and eloquence. One of the only real saints to have occupied the See of Constantinople, he remains engraved in the memories of both the Western Church and the Eastern churches as the most perfect preacher and theologian.

The celebrated genius Fr Adrian Fortescue says of him:

''The day on which his relics were brought back (January 27) is his feast among his own Byzantines and to us Latins. They sing: 'The holy Church rejoices mystically at the return of thy sacred relics, and receives them as a golden treasure. She never ceases teaching her children to sing of thee, and of the grace obtained by thy prayers, John of the Golden Mouth.'

''She never does cease. She teacher her Latin children, too, on that day to sing of the 'High Priest who in his day pleased God. For there is none other like him who kept the law of the Most High. Blessed is the man who suffered hardship, because when he has been tried he shall receive a crown of victory.' And when we sing of Chrysostom in our language while they praise him in theirs, we may look out across the sea and think of his people, his own Byzantines, cut off by this lamentable schism from the throne that defended him, and groaning under the heel of the unbaptized tyrant whose presence still defies the city of eighty Roman Caesars. If anything can trouble the peace of the saints, he must be troubled to see his successors rebel against those of Innocent, and to hear the Mu'ezzin cry from the place he would not have defiled by Eudoxia's statue. And if any saint has a special reason to pray to God for the end of these evils, it is John who appealed to Old Rome as lawful Bishop of New Rome, who, where Islam is now preached, spoke for the gospel of Christ with his golden mouth.'' (Adrian Fortescue, The Greek Fathers, Chapter IV).

Musings on the Introit...

2010-01-26T14:31:00.004Z

Whenever I do liturgical translations for this blog, they are usually either the Collect proper to the Feast or the Introit. I am especially fond of the Introits, particularly Gaudeamus for the Feast of the Assumption (Signum Magnum is not worthy of the Feast, and is evidence merely of the growing tendency in Rome for scripturalizing the Mass) and Rorate Caeli for the Fourth Sunday of Advent.

The Introit is one of the most ancient elements of the Mass, going back to the days before there was such a liturgical book as a ''Missal.'' The Introit is thus found in ancient Antiphonaries (never in the Sacramentary, since this chant was proper to the choir and not the priest). It was conceived of in ancient days as merely the Psalm to accompany the entrance procession, which makes more sense to me. Why, then, are the choir now instructed to begin the Introit as soon as the priest makes the Sign of the Cross to begin the Preparatory Prayers? The entrance procession is thus (unless accompanied by the Organ, which from personal experience I would rather were left out altogether sometimes) reduced to a rather dull and silent affair, more suited to a Requiem. If I had watched the glacial movement of liturgical history as from a high cliff or over a table, and had power to affect it, I would not have reduced it to one or two verses from the Psalm but would have kept the whole thing, with the Antiphon, and the choir would begin the Introit as soon as the warning bell were rung.

Does anyone know why the name was changed, and when, from Introitus to ''Antiphona ad Introitum''?

Uneasy sleep...

2010-01-26T13:17:00.002Z

In the last post, we witnessed the confrontation between the Dark Lord and Lúthien. The Lay goes on...

She let her flying raiment sweep,

enmeshed with woven spells of sleep,

as round the dark void she ranged and reeled.

From wall to wall she turned and wheeled

in dance such as never Elf nor fay

before devised, nor since that day;

than swallow swifter, than flittermouse

in dying light round darkened house

more silken-soft, more strange and fair

than sylphine maidens of the Air

whose wings in Varda's heavenly hall

in rhythmic movement beat and fall.

Down crumpled Orc, and Balrog proud;

all eyes were quenched, all heads were bowed;

the fires of heart and maw were stilled,

and ever like a bird she thrilled

above a lightless world forlorn

in ecstasy enchanted borne.

All eyes were quenched, save those that glared

in Morgoth's lowering brows, and stared

in slowly wandering wonder round,

and slow were in enchantment bound.

Their will wavered, and their fire failed,

and as beneath his brows there paled,

the Silmarils like stars were kindled

that in the reek of Earth had dwindled

escaping upwards clear to shine,

glistening marvellous in heaven's mine.

Then flaring suddenly they fell,

down, down upon the floors of hell.

The dark and mighty head was bowed;

like mountain-top beneath a cloud

the shoulders foundered, the vast form

crashed, as in overwhelming storm

huge cliffs in ruin slide and fall;

and prone lay Morgoth in his hall.

His crown there rolled upon the ground,

a wheel of thunder; then all sound

died, and a silence grew as deep

as were the heart of Earth asleep.

Just say no...

2010-01-25T22:24:00.002Z

I make a point of not attending New Rite Masses. I went to three last year, on Ash Wednesday morning (because I had to work in the evening) - only because I consider the Lenten fast to be quite meaningless without the imposition of Ashes. I attended a Confirmation Mass in February or March, where I said something quite funny to a certain visitor, some readers might be amused to recall; and a Mass on St Patrick's day, since he is my patron. In 2008 I managed to avoid the New Rite for the whole year, which I was quite pleased about. Previous years were quite mixed. Before the Motu Proprio was issued (funny how we refer to Summorum Pontificum as the Motu Proprio, as if there were no previous ones!), I was hard put to it to find a decent Sunday Mass; so I would travel up to the Oratory on occasion for their 9:00am Mass - a Low Mass - but this proved too hard for me. So in a sense I gave up, and I treated Mondays at Maiden Lane as my ''Sunday'' Mass. Then things changed and I started going to Blackfen when the Old Rite was brought in, although it was a long time before anybody noticed that I was there.
A ''correspondant'' sent me this by email, and I thought it quite amusing and pertinent.

In Conversione Sancti Pauli...

2010-01-25T13:56:00.003Z

Scio cui credidi, et certus sum, quia potens est depositum meum servare in illum diem, iustus iudex (Ps 138). Domine, probasti me, et cognovisti me: tu cognovisti sessionem meum, et resurrectionem meam. Gloria Patri.

I know whom I have believed, and I am certain, that he is able to look after my trust into that day, the just judge (Ps 138). O Lord, you have tested me, and known me; you have known my sitting down and my resurrection. Glory be to the Father.

This is the Introit for today's Feast. I cheated somewhat with my translation because I couldn't make sense of ''sessionem'' so I looked that part up in my layman's Missal (the rest of the text I copied from my 1862 Priest's travelling Missal).

I remember talking to an Orthodox about St Paul's mission to the Gentiles some years ago; and he (to my amazement) said that this was proof enough that St Peter never established his See in Rome, since he was the Apostle to the Jews. What do readers think of this? Until then, I had taken it for granted that the Orthodox believed in the apostolicity of the See of Rome. At any rate, such a heretical opinion clearly goes against the faith of the Greek Fathers. Eusebius, the father of Church History, writes of ''the first succession of the Apostles,'' and says: ''Linus received the Bishopric of the Roman Church first after Peter.'' (Ecclesiastical History, III, 4).

My bit for this ''Octave''...

2010-01-24T15:18:00.004Z

Deus, qui errata corrigis, et dispersa congregas, et congregata conservas: quaesumus, super populum Christianum tuae unionis gratiam clementer infunde; ut divisione reiecta, vero pastori Ecclesiae tuae se uniens, tibi digne valeat famulari. Per Dominum nostrum. (Oratio ad tollendum Schisma).

O God, you who correct errors, bring together the dispersed, and keep together the congregated: we beseech you; kindly pour forth the grace of union over the Christian people; so that, having rejected division, and uniting themselves to the true shepherd of your Church, they may be well to serve you worthily. Through the Lord. (Collect for the taking away of Schism).

I have always had sympathy for Ecumenism (understood to mean efforts on behalf of the Pope of Rome to reconcile stray Christians to the Catholic Church - I have no time whatsoever for prayer-meetings, inter-communion and other such relativistic and pernicious nonsense), since the schisms which have severed the various churches from the One True Church are manifestly a source of grief to every godly and Catholic soul. But Ecumenism is a very complicated matter, and I doubt that many ''churches-together'' groups actually consider what a united Church would be like. Below are a list of musings about what I would consider to be the ''ideal'' United Church. I shall go through each of the Communions in turn (devoting a paragraph to each) and last of all give a ''synopsis'' of the stuff that we could concede. Any comments, queries, protests etc in the Comment box please.

The Eastern Orthodox Church.

The Great Orthodox Church evidently deserves pride of place. These Christians, with their long and pious (if rather fossilized) Tradition will have to do the following: accept all the Ecumenical Councils of the Roman Church as binding in all that pertains to dogmata of Faith. They will not have to insert the Filioque into their own Creeds, since this is not part of the tradition (with a small t) of their Church, nor adopt Western Canon Law, but they will have to accept that the Filioque is a dogma of Faith as defined by the Council of Florence (liturgically speaking, the Credo at Mass is merely the Symbol of Faith, and no Creed is a compendium of all doctrine anyway - the Creeds say nothing about the Sacraments for example), and their catechisms will of course teach accordingly. They will have to accept the Primacy of Jurisdiction of the Roman Pontiff as defined by the Vatican Council as pious and apostolic teaching. The venerable Liturgies of the Eastern Church will remain unchanged and certainly unLatinized, except that the name of the Pope will be restored to the diptychs. They will, though, adopt the Gregorian Kalendar, and there will be an investigation into personal sanctity and orthodoxy of the lives of their many ''saints'' (the host of Emporers for example, most famously Constantine I, a pagan his whole life, then baptised on his deathbed by an Arian bishop). This last point is especially complicated, since what I am asking them to do is anathematize their own saints...Perhaps in recompense for this the West could adopt some famous post-Schism Eastern Saints into her own Kalendar (such as Seraphim of Sarov, the famous Russian mystic). Ideally, the various autocephalous churches (an Eastern innovation) will be dissolved and brought again under the ancient Patriarchs of Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch and Jerusalem. Local churches will, of course, retain the Liturgy of St John Chrysostom in their own local tongues. The Patriarchs will be made Cardinals and can partake in the Conclave to elect the Pope (will this privilege extend to other Bishops and Metropolitans, I wonder?) The Patriarch of Constantinople can retain the title ''Ecumenical Patriarch.''

The non-Chalcedonian Churches.

I know very little about these Christians, and I think that it would be better if they first reconciled with the Orthodox Church beforehand. They will, of course, accept the Christological Definition of Chalcedon (451) and all other Ecumenical Councils of the Church, the Primacy of the Pope etc. All the rest is applicable as above.

The Anglican Communion.

Anglicans will have to accept all Ecumenical Councils of the Church, as well as fully submit to the doctrines of the Catholic faith. They will recognise the Primacy of Jurisdiction of the Pope as defined by the Vatican Council (the writ of the Bishop of Rome does in fact run in England too!) They will adopt the Sarum Use (in Cranmerian English if they prefer this - English is not a liturgical language, but then is Church Slavonic?) As to the Book of Common Prayer...this was composed by a genius, but a genius with a fiercely anti-Roman (and therefore, reprobate) mind, so I am not sure how to treat this. I have always looked with suspicion upon ''Latinized'' BCP services, just as I have looked with suspicion upon Western-Rite Orthodox Masses, with an inserted Epiklesis and left out Filioque. The ancestral churches of England are to be restored to what they were, insofar as this is possible, and so orders are to be sent out for the rebuilding of Rood Screens, the carving of statues, the painting of sacred images, the building of Altars etc. The Sees of Canterbury and York are to be restored to what they once were, and all Dioceses in England and Wales are to be shared on both the Catholic and Anglican sides (but they will keep their respective bishops, insofar as this is possible). The Archbishops of Canterbury and York will be made Cardinals of the Church and will therefore partake in the Conclave to elect the Pope; although they need not go to Rome to receive the Palium or Biretta but will be consecrated in their own respective Cathedrals by the Pope's Legate.

Other Protestants.

Other Protestants are to be assumed into the current Anglican Communion and are to be treated as Anglicans. They will, of course, do all of the above and repudiate their heresy. They will by no means be allowed to retain their current services of worship but like the Anglicans will adopt the Sarum Use.

On our part...

The Old Rite will be fully restored to the liturgical life of the Church in every aspect (Kalendar, Books etc). Bishops Conferences will no longer have the authority to tamper with the Kalendar (transferring Feasts to nearest Sundays etc). The Church will adopt the revised Good Friday prayers. All Latin Rite priests will be well-versed in the Latin language. The role of the Deacon will be enlarged to match the Deacons of the Eastern Churches. The Minor Orders will be restored, as well as the Subdiaconate, and these Orders will be made permanent if so-desired. Popes will again be crowned rather than ''inaugurated'' and representatives of all the churches will be present (Patriarchs of the Eastern churches as well as the Archbishops of York and Canterbury). Popes need not be Cardinals.

I realise that I have left a lot unsaid. Anything that I have missed out, please let me know in the comment box.

Budgeting etc...

2010-01-24T14:49:00.004Z

I am overdrawn this month, significantly (I hate having no money!). I discussed this with Mac in the parish club this afternoon after Mass, and we agreed that I should draft a budget (I have often thought that I am too impulsive and greedy, and therefore stupid, to stick to a budget, but I really need to sort out my finances). My monthly expenses are basically housekeeping, the money I owe my brother, lunch at work and college and a few other small things. I spend nothing on travel because I have a free Oyster card and I do lots of walking, so I am lucky in this respect. I have spent some time ruminating over this this afternoon, but I got distracted and instead went onto Amazon and Abebooks going through lists of books that I want (and need in a few cases). The list is vastly incomplete (I left out all the first editions), but already the total cost is at £1,236.13 (three books in this list are very expensive). The most expensive one is the Oxford English Dictionary, in 20 Volumes, for £688.97 (with money off too!) - Tolkien got this for free of course, having worked on it as a lexicographer. I doubt I'll be able to afford this for at least a year, unless by some miracle I win the lottery...

I wonder if going through this list of expensive books (a lot of them are Tolkien books) constitutes a kind of budgetting? At least I am aware that I cannot currently afford them! Back to work now I guess...

Iona Propheta...

2010-01-23T22:25:00.002Z

Tolkien's latest book will be published for the first time next month - I can't wait!!! It's just his translation of the Book of Jonah. In the 1960s, Tolkien was ''questioned on one or two points of style'' (as he put it) for the new Jerusalem Bible. Owing to other commitments (disputes in America over pirate editions of The Lord of the Rings, the publication of the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings, the deteriorating health of his wife etc) he could only complete one book, and a very short one. I have never read his translation, which should be interesting. I am not sure whether it is from the Septuagint or the Masoretic, but that will undoubtedly be revealed by a learned reader.

I was, in fact, doing a translation of the Book of Jonah on my own. It was quite easy but I couldn't be bothered using the dictionary, so when unfamiliar words cropped up, I gave it up. Does that make me lazy? I shall return to it after I finish at least one chapter from the Contra Errores Graecorum - I am doing Pars Secunda, Caput XXXII on the Primacy of the Roman Pontiff, where the Angelic Doctor equates denial of the Primacy with denial of the Double Procession (at least that's how I have read it).

Lux Orientalis?

2010-01-23T15:37:00.003Z

In a previous post, I expressed my profound sympathy with the Old Believers of the Russian Orthodox Church. It might be good for me to elaborate my thoughts on the Orthodox Church in general.

Until recently, I admired the great Orthodox Church. I have always marvelled at the inherent beauty of her Liturgy, which is the legacy of a long and pious Tradition, and which I have been privileged to experience on a few occasions. But I think that nowadays, this is the one and only thing I really admire about them. I remember at the time the Holy Father decided to drop the title ''Patriarch of the West'' talking to a Russian Orthodox man about it. I was against the decision, thinking the explanation of the emphasis on the Universal primacy of the Pope a stinking red herring, since this title encapsulates the special relationship that we, as Roman Rite Catholics, have with him and which Catholics of Eastern Christendom do not. He is not their Patriarch is he? To them, he is merely Pope. To Catholics living in the Eternal City herself, he is local Bishop, Archbishop, Metropolitan, Patriarch and Pope; in England he is simply Patriarch and Pope. Anyway, we argued over the other ''Papal titles,'' and he seemed especially indignant that the Church should decide to keep such ''arrogant'' titles as Vicar of Christ while doing away with a respectable one. He went quiet when I told him that at the time the Patriarch of Constantinople (not even an Apostolic See!) assumed the grandiloquent title ''Ecumenical Patriarch,'' (a pompous title which, in my opinion, compromises the rights and dignities of the Patriarch of Rome) the Popes of Rome adopted the title Servus Servorum Dei...

Whenever speaking to an Orthodox about ''Western'' affairs, I would adopt a somewhat apologetic persona and was almost always on the defensive. The two chief points were, need I say, the Filioque and the Papal claims, but I had to answer for other things as well, such as the Immaculate Conception, purgatorial fire, and in the case of an astute Orthodox, the present state of our Liturgy. This last point was especially painful for me, since they have had no liturgical crisis (except, arguably, the Nikon reforms - although what was this compared with what we have to put up with?), and so in the end I gave up. I stopped treating them as though they were our superiors (we are, in fact, their older brothers, not vice versa); I recognise and acknowledge the authority of the Pope, as Vicar of Christ and Universal Patriarch, they don't; I am a member of the True Church of Christ, they are unhappy schismatics, and for all their pretence of ''catholicity,'' most of their history since the Schism is riddled with petty squabbling over the rights of Constantinople, most of their hardly distinguished theologians have spent the best part of their time writing against us; but they have paid the recompense for their obstinate arrogance by being the long vassals of the Sultan; as Cardinal Humbert said, Videat Deus et iudicet.

In 1894, Pope Leo XIII sent out an Encyclical letter called Praeclara Gratulationis Publicae, generous and kindly and without any word of blame calling for the reunion of Christendom. The schismatic Orthodox bishops responded with this vituperative and poisonous encyclical letter, bringing up the old hackneyed arguments against the ''damnable heresies of Rome,'' the Filioque, Papal claims etc. Curiously, no mention is made of Azyme bread or Latin Bishops wearing rings, being clean-shaven or any other such thing (which in old times were the chief charges made against us, the Filioque being an afterthought!). It was the upstart Photius who first called the Filioque into question, and his bitterness about the Primacy of the Pope was because he couldn't stand being second after Rome. In any case, this appalling letter also mingles lies with the truth, at one point claiming that it was the ''custom'' of the holy fathers to hold Rome in the prime place simply because she was the capital of the Empire! What is this if not an anti-Evangelical and certainly Protestant heresy? In nothing is the hurt caused by the virtually blasphemous arrogance of Constantinople (now not even a shadow of what it once was) shown more clearly than in the great East-West Schism.

One thing I'd like to translate in the future is St Thomas Aquinas' Contra Errores Graecorum, but not yet. The above icon depicts ''saint'' Photius, Patriarch of Constantinople between 858-867 (although at the time of his election, he was a layman, and there are serious Canonical issues surrounding his appointment), he was deposed and excommunicated by Pope St Nicholas I, the greatest of all the Popes between Sts Gregory the Great and Gregory VII, and after the death of Ignatius in 877, was Patriarch until his death in 886. He was a great man according to his measure (an outstanding scholar, although he knew no Latin) but certainly prejudiced, and one of the many bogus saints of the Orthodox Church.

The words of Morgoth and Lúthien...

2010-01-22T19:05:00.003Z

In the previous post, we saw how Lúthien could not deceive the dread Lord of Hell with her false raiment and how she was stripped of it by his will, revealed to all the hosts of Angband as the daughter of Thingol and Melian. The Lay goes on:

The fires of Angband flared and died,

smouldered into darkness; through the wide

and hollow halls there rolled unfurled

the shadows of the underworld.

All movement stayed, and all sound ceased,

save vaporous breath of Orc and beast.

One fire in the darkness still abode;

one sound the breathing silence broke:

the mirthless voice of Morgoth spoke.

''So Lúthien, so Lúthien,

a liar like all Elves and Men!

Yet welcome, welcome, to my hall!

I have a use for every thrall.

What news of Thingol in his hole

shy lurking like a timid vole?

What folly fresh in his mind,

who cannot keep his offspring blind

from straying thus? or can devise

no better counsel for his spies?''

She wavered, and she stayed her song.

''The road,'' she said, ''was wild and long,

but Thingol sent me not, nor knows

what way his rebellious daughter goes.

Yet every road and path will lead

Northward at last, and here of need

I trembling come with humble brow,

and here before thy throne I bow;

for Lúthien hath many arts

for solace sweet of kingly hearts.''

''And here of need thou shalt remain

now, Lúthien, in joy or pain -

or pain, the fitting doom for all

for rebel, thief, and upstart thrall.

Why should ye not in our fate share

of woe and travail? Or should I spare

to slender limb and body frail

breaking torment? Of what avail

here dost thou deem thy babbling song

and foolish laughter? Minstrels strong

are at my call. Yet I will give

a respite brief, a while to live,

a little while, though purchased dear,

to Lúthien the fair and clear,

a pretty toy for idle hour.

In slothful gardens many a flower

like thee the amorous gods are used

honey-sweet to kiss, and cast then bruised,

their fragrance loosing, under feet.

But here we seldom find such sweet

amid our labours long and hard,

from godlike idleness debarred.

And who would not taste the honey-sweet

lying to lips, or crush with feet

the soft cool tissue of pale flowers,

easing like gods the dragging hours?

A! curse the Gods! O hunger dire,

O blinding thirst's unending fire!

One moment shall ye cease, and slake

your string with morsel I here take!''

In his eyes the fire to flame was fanned,

and forth he stretched his brazen hand.

Lúthien as shadow shrank aside.

''Not thus, O king! Not thus!'' she cried,

''do great lords hark to humble boon!

For every minstrel hath his tune;

and some are strong and some are soft,

and each would bear his song aloft,

and each a little while be heard,

though rude the note, and light the word.

But Lúthien hath cunning arts

for solace sweet of kingly hearts.

Now hearken!'' And her wings she caught

then deftly up, and swift as thought

slipped from his grasp, and wheeling round,

fluttering before his eyes, she wound

a mazy-wingéd dance, and sped

about his iron-crownéd head.

Suddenly her song began anew;

and soft came dropping like a dew

down from on high in that domed hall

her voice bewildering, magical,

and grew to silver-murmuring streams

pale falling in dark pools in dreams.

Fortescue and the Old Believers...

2010-01-21T22:36:00.002Z

I find myself in sympathy with the Russian Orthodox ''Old Believers'' - even if to Western eyes, the things they niggle about might seem rather trivial. I used to consider myself a kind of Western ''Old Believer,'' but I later rejected this comparison as inaccurate since I do not consider the Catholic Church (or for that matter, the modern Russian Orthodox Church) to be a church of brigands. In any case, I can understand some of their grievances, since Liturgy is the most important thing for the present life of Men, as it was to our Fathers and will be to our Sons, the Lord's greatest gift.

For those of you who don't know, the Old Believers go back to 17th century Russia, when the Patriarch Nikon revised the Russian liturgical books to bring them into line with the Greek ''originals'' (which later turned out to be older than the contemporary Greek liturgical books, which contained many innovations). This was met with considerable opposition, and many left the established Church, calling themselves Starovjerzi (Old Believers). There were several flash-points: the spelling of the Holy Name (Isus in the old practice, Iisus in the new), instead of saying of the Holy Ghost in the Creed ''true Lord and Lifegiver,'' the modern Slavonic Creed says simply ''Lord and Lifegiver,'' the Sign of the Cross was changed from two fingers (signifying the Two Natures in Christ) to three (signifying the Blessed Trinity), the number of Alleluias and prostrations were reduced etc, etc. As I say, these changes may seem trivial to Western minds, but since the Orthodox are notoriously and very rigidly conservative, to them (or some of them, the Russian Church was pretty autocratic under the Czars and so the vast majority of the Orthodox in Russia just complied out of fear) these changes represented a danger to ''the faith of the Fathers and the Seven General Councils'' (it is the doctrine of the True Church as well as the Orthodox schismatics that doctrinal and liturgical truth interpenetrate, so one can understand the Old Believers from this perspective at least). The Old Believers were cruelly persecuted by the establishment, which just made them wildly fanatical. Over the years, this dwindling group of traditionalists split into sect after sect over all sorts of grievances. Unfortunately, their whole history is too great and depressing to elaborate (even if I knew more than the rudiments of it anyway). A good book to consult on their history is Meyendorff's Russia, Ritual and Reform.

I am currently (among other commitments - I should be doing more Latin) reading Adrian Fortescue's The Orthodox Eastern Church. As with all his work, it's fascinating, but I rather disagree with his assessment of the Old Believers (as I disagreed with his views on the Council of Trent and the abolition of all those Sequences). He gives a list of their alarming sects (such as the Philipovzi, who preach suicide by fire to quicken Christ's Parousia, and the Beguni, who practice fornication rather than marriage), and one is astounded at the extent to which fanaticism and schism can run. He calls them all madmen and pedants (and in the latter cases, certainly they are), but I don't see that he is qualified to dismiss them outright. The Old Believers represent what can sometimes be the hard discrepancy between blind obedience and conscience. I have seen people do some very strange things for obedience's sake...but why? There is obedience and there is obedience. I think St Thomas Aquinas says something like ''obey one's superiors in all things that are not sinful'' (don't quote me on that!); if the Pope ordered you to jump off a bridge, would you do so out of obedience? No; so if the Pope asks you to accept the 1962, 1970/2002 liturgical books, then why do you accept them if you know in your heart that they are faulty?

Incidentally, a humorous footnote in Fortescue reads: ''One advantage of their existence is that they afford unequalled opportunities for the scientific study of lunacy. Russian doctors and psychologists are taking up the matter from this point of view, and they publish most deserving works on the psychology of mind-disease - they have plenty of material to study.'' (Adrian Fortescue, The Orthodox Eastern Church, Chapter X, p.302).

Survival of the Fittest...

2010-01-21T14:01:00.002Z

''Autistic children are often tormented and rejected by their class-mates simply because they are different and stand out from the crowd. Thus, in the playground or on the way to school one can often see an autistic child at the centre of a jeering horde of little urchins. The child himself may be hitting out in blind fury or crying helplessly. In either case he is defenceless.'' (Hans Asperger, 1944).

On Sunday afternoon, before I had to shoot off, I had a brief chat with a friend over a cup of tea about ''building confidence'' and being able to defend oneself against abuse. This is an interesting subject and explores some of the most (to me) incomprehensible aspects of the human mind - how one person is singled out as an ''easy target'' by some innate ''instinct,'' and another is left alone in the same way. I have spoken to my mother, wise with the wisdom of the world according to her fashion, about this, and she says that we each of us exhibit certain signals, manifested by our body language, posture, other subtle nuances and gestures etc. By these signals, we make personal judgements about whether this person is a weakling, that person is not to be messed with. If you are extrovert, sit and stand upright, sporty, popular etc, you are naturally going to be ''respected'' by your peers in the playground (so far as school children understand ''respect'' that is); if you are shy, weak, slouch, sit with your arms folded you are naturally going to be the easy target. This attitude of mind seems to manifest a, what I shall call, ''survival of the fittest'' mentality; and my devoting a blog post to this subject at all betokens that on the one hand I consider it to be inherently flawed, and on the other that I recognise that it is, all the same and in spite of all endeavours to remedy it, not going to change - until the Lord comes and the meek come into their own.

As a child, I never had the ''innate confidence'' about which I have just spoken. Moreover, as a child with Asperger Syndrome, I was manifestly different from my peers in many ways. I was more intelligent than most of them (and therefore simply attracted the scorn of the ignorant and the markedly stupid); I was shy and introvert, preferring the quietude of my own thoughts and the genius of the written word to the company of others (although I did have a small group of friends); I also made a point of not following the latest fashions or fads, which to me were just silly transient things. When I was in Primary School, I had cultivated a sense of detachment from people, so by the time I got into Secondary School, I was not really ''used'' to people much, so my dealings with them, which were often more frequent than I had time or interest for, were often halting and uncomfortable. Sometimes, mid-sentence, I would just get bored and walk away. This was my way of saying ''I am tired,'' or ''I find your gestures bewildering or objectionable,'' or ''I am bored with you and it won't be good until you're out of my presence.'' In Primary School, certainly before I was taken in by the headmaster about my behaviour towards the other children, I would probably have told them to go away, or shut up; but apparently this was inappropriate. Nobody thought to tell me that actions, sometimes moreso than words, could be just as inappropriate. These are just a few examples though.

It's all very well and good to talk about one's body language and other subtle nuances of manner, it's quite another to explore why they affect people the way they do. In this area of human psychology, seeing things through the lenses of a very peculiar perception, I am confessedly left altogether bewildered. For one of the characteristics of Asperger Syndrome is the impaired ability to read body language, social cues etc, which are said to make up as much as 93% of human communication - for someone with severe Classic Autism, they might as well be blind and deaf. I expect (being no expert or authority of course - just someone who lives with Asperger Syndrome day after day, if that counts for anything) that for this reason, as well as having impaired Theory of Mind abilities (which are, of course, related), people with Asperger Syndrome cannot fully understand how to act around people. And this is not something you can read about in some hypothetical manual of human behaviour, or learn by some other means like a language or the rudiments of some interesting subject. And what happens? In practice, this means that children and adults with Asperger Syndrome come across as very halting, uncomfortable individuals - trying to constantly work out what to say, and when, what to do, and how to do it. For me, as someone on the ''milder'' end of the Spectrum (interestingly, I was not when I was younger, but my mother rejected psychological help and other financial grants when I was very little and was just very strict with me, trying to ''correct'' my behaviour all the time), I developed a not-very-effective remedy to this. For years, I observed the interactions of other people and memorised them by rote, in the hope that when the occasion arose, I could apply them to new situations - like an actor revising a script and then acting it out, as it were (in fact, on the occasions when my relatives caught me ''talking to myself'' I was in fact revising the best way to say something). But this simply does not always work. I expect neuro-typical people just instinctively know what a raised eyebrow means, or how to read and understand an ambiguous facial expression, or (and this often thwarts me) what people are saying when they mouth things.

I hated school, at both Primary and Secondary levels. I had nothing but contempt and scorn for most of the teachers, most of the pupils, all of the work, the school grounds and the timetable. I spoke to an 11 year old boy about this recently, and he seemed surprised, since I ''know so much.'' Trying to get him to understand that one can be naturally intelligent and still despise a system that stunted my intellectual growth was futile. Although a doctor had speculated as far back as 1993 that I had Asperger Syndrome, I received no diagnosis until last year, and so to my teachers at school (except, perhaps, one or two astute ones - although no one ever said anything) I expect that I must have been just that slightly odd, clearly bright but lazy, awkward and bitterly angry boy. Alas, though, I am aware that this post is already quite long, so if what is intended as the central topic of this post is to be reached within a manageable space, a lot of context and elaboration must be left unsaid (although I have devoted most of it already to the establishment of context). Questions and Answers in the Comment box please.

All the popular children at school seemed to be good at PE (which to me just said it all really; they had no capacity for real learning). On the rare occasions that I turned up for PE, I was often subjected to teasing by teachers and pupils alike on account of my lack of physical strength and force (what use are attempts at improving social skills if in cases such as this one is consistently, maliciously and deliberately rejected by people?); I would almost certainly be picked last to form a team for some pointless exercise (this was not always the case - there were people more weak and pathetic than I - but these sad cases didn't even have brilliant minds to compensate for this so they were doubly worse off - I did pity them though) etc, etc, you probably know the situation already. Usually my response to teasing was to walk back to school and sit in the Library; if one teacher (the one who especially hated me, and knew how to wind me up) called me ''stupid'' (to me, a significant personal insult, since I valued intellectual ability above all things, and certainly as one of my strengths) I would go into a fit of rage and be sent to the ''behavioural management centre,'' where I would listen to a well-meaning but clearly unimaginative woman with no personality drone on about adherence to the rules etc. Rules...school rules ought to have been logical. Clearly most of them were not, and so I disobeyed them. I adhered to rules about the uniform and other such things, being quiet in-between lessons, going straight to them etc, but other rules such as having to attend PE lessons were not logical and were therefore fit to be ignored.

Anyway, as is my wont, I have been distracted and I am bored with writing this now (as you probably are with reading it). The point of this post is this: why did school children and PE teachers value physical powess and popularity over intelligence? Why did school children scorn someone who was intelligent, label him ''geek'' or ''nerd'' or ''weirdo,'' and prefer someone manifestly ignorant but good at PE? To me, such children were stupid, unoriginal and unimaginative, slaves to fashion etc. It still goes on; I am still rejected by people in all walks of life, and the hurtful thing is that some of these people are people for whom I have deep personal affection, desiring only their ''rehabilitation'' (by which I mean, conformity to my own world view).

This post has been appallingly written and hardly merits posting (I am never quite satisfied with posts of this sort, they are always not-quite-finished, fall short of making a point etc). So the cogent question is: which will fair better on the Day of Judgement, the popular boy or the weaker intelligent boy eaten up with bitterness?

Ortírielyanna...

2010-01-21T01:18:00.002Z

My other ''interesting'' post is taking longer to write than I had heretofore anticipated, and in the writing it is increasingly ''bitter'' and I am yet to arrive at a point, but I'll let readers be the judge of that instead. The trouble I have in writing is that it is always in too grandiloquent a style and I always fall short of actually making a point (at least that is how I see it), and so the result is neither a contribution to rhetoric nor anything else worthy. Anyway, I am not sure that I have blogged about this yet, but here is Tolkien's Quenya rendering of the beautiful Sub tuum praesidium. Enjoy!

Ortírielyanna rucimme, Aina Eruontari. Alalye nattira arcandemmar sangiessemman, ono alye eterúna me illume ilya raxellor, alcarin Vénde ar manaquenta.

Ὑπὸ τὴν σὴν εὐσπλαγχνίαν,
καταφεύγομεν, Θεοτόκε.
Τὰς ἡμῶν ἱκεσίας,
μὴ παρίδῃς ἐν περιστάσει,
ἀλλ᾽ ἐκ κινδύνων λύτρωσαι ἡμᾶς,
μόνη Ἁγνή, μόνη εὐλογημένη.

Writer's block...

2010-01-19T11:37:00.002Z

I am currently writing a post about Asperger Syndrome and that heinous tendency (alas, all too easy to find in the playground and in the workplace, and probably every other conceivable place) among human beings - bullying. But I have writer's block, and since I cannot simply summon the Muse, I am afraid an interesting post must wait for a little while. I know you're all on the edges of your seats though!

The Tridentine Rite...

2010-01-18T13:44:00.002Z

When I was at Sixth Form College, I had an argument with my RE teacher, a Modernist woman who knew sod all about Liturgy, about the ''Tridentine'' Rite. At the time, my knowledge of the Council of Trent was still embryonic (it still is), but I maintained the argument that ''tridentine'' in fact refers to the Council of Trent. She had claimed that Pope John Paul II's funeral contained many ''Tridentine'' elements - the ''almost exclusive'' (that's what she said) use of Latin, incense etc. I tried to get her to understand that the funeral was in the New Rite, with some typically New Rite peculiarities (which, I am sure, the Orthodox clergy who were present found irksome, as did I); I mentioned lay readers and bidding prayers as an example (I am aware of the presence of ''bidding prayers'' in other liturgies, even some ancient ones, but since I don't see primitiveness as any guarantee of value, I thought it pertinent to say that this anachronistic and semi-liturgical uselessness peculiar to the New Rite). Alas, though, it's hard to win an argument with someone if one's opponent doesn't even know what they're talking about - and simply cannot in humility accept remonstrance. It is a fact, though, that a lot of Catholics are simply unaware of pre-1970 changes to the Missal and Breviary. In the case of some, they have genuinely been misled; others are simply ignorant; others would fain have us think that the '62 Rite is in fact the ''venerable'' Roman Rite (I am naming no names, but I'm sure readers know to whom I especially refer).

To remedy this, Rubricarius of the St Lawrence Press blog has started a new blog called The Tridentine Rite, which is well worth a visit. It is essentially the same as the St Lawrence Press blog, except that it follows the rubrics of the 1568 Breviary and the 1570 Missal, and therefore uses the Julian Kalendar. It is a shame that the commemorations of the Octaves of the Comites Christi during the greater Octave of the Nativity were not made this year, since under the Tridentine rubrics, the Octaves were all of Double rite, and therefore merited commemorations. It is noteworthy that under the 1911-13 changes to the Liturgy under the saintly lunatic Pius X, the Octaves of the Comites Christi were all reduced to Simple rite - a step-forward for later liturgical deform? I guess if you reduce a Feast or an Octave in significance, get rid of a great many etc, you just pave the way for later relativistic ''liturgy.'' The 1962 ''liturgical books'' retained only three Octaves, namely Easter, Pentecost (Octaves of the ''first class'') and Christmas (the Octave of the ''second class''). O with what great violence and contempt the Liturgy was stripped to the bones and done away with! Afterall, what is the New Rite but a pathetic and shadowy medley of half-remembered traditions and mutilated beliefs?

Tolkien, The Catholic Herald and etymology...

2010-01-17T01:27:00.003Z

The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien are a veritable treasure-trove of information; I heartily recommend this book to anyone interested in Tolkien. These letters, largely abridged of course, reveal a lot about the workings of his mind which you simply cannot deduce from his mythopoeic work. This letter always amuses me. In 1945, Tolkien wrote a letter to The Catholic Herald in response to a correspondent who wrote about the etymology of the word Coventry. The letter goes:

''I've wasted some precious time this week-end writing a letter to the Catholic Herald. One of their sentimentalist correspondents wrote about the etymology of the name Coventry, and seemed to think that unless you said it came from Convent, the answer was not 'in keeping with Catholic tradition.' 'I gather the convent of St Osburg was of no consequence' said he: boob. As convent did not enter English till after 1200 A.D. (and meant an 'assembly' at that) and the meaning 'nunnery' is not recorded before 1795, I felt annoyed. So I have asked whether he would like to change the name of Oxford to Doncaster; but he's probably too stupid to see even that mild quip.'' (The Letters of J.R.R Tolkien, no. 97).

I'd like to see that letter. Does anyone know where/how I can access the archives of The Catholic Herald? Their website only goes back to 2003. So far as Catholic periodicals go, Tolkien (to my knowledge at least) had nothing whatsoever to do with The Tablet...

''News...''

2010-01-16T17:35:00.002Z

I have always had this much in common with J.R.R Tolkien (and also C.S Lewis, and probably many others): I find ''news'' for the most part trivial and fit to be ignored (a cause of much tension between my uncle - a BBC Journalist - and I!). I never read newspapers, and seldom if ever watch the news on TV (which nowadays I only use to watch documentaries and play my Nintendo). In my opinion, the only Truth is to be found in Literature and Liturgy...

Amor librorum...

2010-01-15T21:40:00.002Z

I love books, for the pleasure of reading as well as the book itself. I don't know how many books I own (not having counted them in about three years, or so), but I must own in advance of 1000, which may be a lot to some and a little to others - I suppose I fall in the latter. Living at home, with an agonizingly small income (which my lifestyle far exceeds) means that I cannot always afford the books I want - I am also only 21! Going into the offices, homes, libraries etc of friends, tutors etc, and my own small ''library'' (which I call my small collection of books, in absurd grandiosity, stuffed for the most part into two small bookcases, under my bed and in drawers) pales into insignificance - I must remember that my tutors are eminent scholars, and the books they own have been built up over a lifetime of earnest study - not like a rustic and untutored Hobbit you see.

A significant portion of the books that I own (especially on Theology) I would gladly throw away (if I did not think that this were an abuse - plus I can't be bothered taking them to charity shops or anything), some because I just don't want them anymore; some because I wonder that I was dull enough to buy them in the first place (such as my copy of ''Contemporary Catholic Theology'' - what was I thinking? - although this book does include a chapter by Fr Robert Murray, SJ on the Scriptures - Robert Murray being an old friend of J.R.R Tolkien - I think he is still at Farm Street, although I may be mistaken), some because I am not interested in the subject matter anymore; some because they are old, unwanted presents; one because of most of the above, plus it is the first (expensive) volume of a very large series (The Glory of the Lord by Hans Urs von Balthasar - again, what was I thinking?) which, in all honesty, I don't want.

Yesterday afternoon, I spent about an hour in the Library going through the Corpus Christianorum (Series Latina obviously - I did glance at the Greek series, but I cannot read Greek - being half a Classicist, and a very inept one. If I am ever bitter about anything, it is my education, or lack thereof - when Tolkien was 12 years old, he was fluent in Latin and Greek, and here I am...well don't let us get into that again!) looking for some stuff by St Hilary of Poitiers. I'd like to own the complete series one day (I don't know how many books there are, or even if it is complete yet, but the Latin series alone filled a complete bay), as well as a few other things (such as an original Octavarium Romanum, a pre-1884 Missale Romanum (Altar size - I do in fact own an 1862 priest's travelling Missal, but it's not a very handsome tome), a complete pre-1911 Breviarum Romanum, a Lewis & Short (I keep meaning to buy one, but it is rather difficult juggling my small income between other commitments sometimes), a first edition Redbook of Westmarch, the Summa Theologica in Latin (I already own an English translation), at least one manuscript by Tolkien himself, even the least important letter, a Book of Hours, etc, etc...maybe I should set up a ''wish-list'' in the Sidebar and start asking for donations and gifts, but I may then be accused of emulating certain people...

O to have seen the great Library at Alexandria...

Further into Hell...

2010-01-15T14:27:00.002Z

We saw in the last post how Beren and Lúthien penetrated the fastness of Angband, that ''most grievous of all abodes'' as the Tale of Turambar and the Foalókë puts it (The Book of Lost Tales, Part II, Chapter II). And here, they both put all the might and pride of the Princes of the Gnomes to shame...

Lo! through the grinning portals dread

sudden a shadow swooped and fled;

and Beren gasped - he lay alone,

with crawling belly on the stone:

a form bat-wingéd, silent, flew

where the huge pillared branches grew,

amid the smokes and mounting screams.

And as on the margin of dark dreams

a dim-felt shadow unseen grows

to cloud of vast unease, and woes

foreboded, nameless, roll like doom

upon the soul, so in that gloom

the voices fell, and laughter died

slow to silence many-eyed.

A nameless doubt, a shapeless fear,

had entered in their caverns drear,

and grew, and towered above them cowed,

hearing in heart the trumpets loud

of gods forgotten. Morgoth spoke,

and thunderous the silence broke:

''Shadow, descend! And do not think

to cheat mine eyes! In vain to shrink

from thy Lord's gaze, or seek to hide.

My will by none may be defied.

Hope nor escape doth here await

those that unbidden pass my gate.

Descend! ere anger blast thy wing,

thou foolish, frail, bat-shapen thing,

and yet not bat within! Come down!''

Slow-wheeling o'er his iron crown,

reluctantly, shivering and small,

Beren there saw the shadow fall,

and droop before the hideous throne,

a weak and trembling thing, alone.

And as thereon great Morgoth bent

his darkling gaze, he shuddering went,

belly to earth, the cold sweat dank

upon his fell, and crawling shrank

beneath the darkness of that seat,

beneath the shadow of those feet.

Tinúviel spake, a shrill, thin sound

piercing those silences profound:

''A lawful errand here me brought;

from Thû's [Sauron's] dark mansions have I sought,

from Taur-na-Fuin's [Taur-nu-Fuin's] shade I fare

to stand before thy mighty chair!''

''Thy name, thou shrieking waif, thy name!

Tidings enough from Thû there came

but short while since. What would he now?

Why send such messenger as thou?''

''Thuringwethil I am, who cast

a shadow o'er the face aghast

of the sallow moon in the doomed land

of shivering Beleriand.''

''Liar art thou, who shalt not weave

deceit before mine eyes. Now leave

thy form and raiment false, and stand

revealed, and delivered to my hand!''

Then, she was stripped of her guise by the will of Morgoth, and stood revealed and powerless before the hosts of Hell...

O me miserum!

2010-01-14T22:06:00.003Z

Patricius is not feeling very well at the moment as he has a terrible sore throat (the early signs of man-flu) and feels generally very run-down. Prayers would be welcome.

By the way, I just checked my Sitemeter and I have had almost 300 visitors today! I checked the Referrals and the vast majority have come from New Advent and looked at my lovely photo - a consolation amidst other cares and griefs. Now I shall finish my soup, put my uniform in the tumble-dryer and get some much-needed sleep - it has been a long day and I must be up early for work.

I did in fact read some of St Hilary today, but his style was rather more difficult than I expected and didn't do any real translation. I did, however, get a copy of the Corpus Christianorum (the Latin Series) out of the Library which I shall tackle over the weekend.

St Hilary of Poitiers...

2010-01-14T06:55:00.003Z

Today is the Feast of St Hilary of Poitiers, Bishop and Doctor of the Church. One of the greatest Fathers of the Western Church, whose works (to my shame) I have not in fact read. I am just on my way out to college now, so I may dig something out of the Library this afternoon and amend this. Happy Feast Day all!

It's a shame, though, for on the feasts of Saints whom I love and respect deeply, I like to translate some of their works and post them, but like over Christmas, I simply haven't had time. Funnily enough, on the Feast of St Augustine last year, I sent cordial greetings to my tutor (who lectures regularly on him). I had said that I was reading his Confessions, and even The City of God (in Latin; the latter proving quite hard indeed, for the Introduction is very clever Latin, and I had to go through the whole paragraph to find the main verb!), which he seemed pleased about. Unfortunately, he told me, he had to spend the day marking essays on St Augustine, which he explained was no substitute for reading the Great Doctor himself!

Changes to this blog...

2010-01-13T13:40:00.002Z

Last night I made a few changes to this blog. The most obvious is the picture in the Header. When I created this blog, I made a point of using art by J.R.R Tolkien himself, and the first picture was taken from Chapter VI of The Hobbit. The new one is also from The Hobbit, although the illustration was not included in some editions - the only edition I have in which this illustration appears is the 2007 70th anniversary edition, which is supposed to be based on the First Edition (I have never actually seen a First Edition of The Hobbit, much as I'd like to own one). The painting depicts Bilbo's journey in the bitter cold down the River of Northern Mirkwood, and is a rather nice painting, considering Tolkien was not the greatest of all artists.

Other minor changes include a ''Reactions'' thingy, added to all posts. I had wanted to include more reactions, such as ''incomprehensible,'' or ''funny'' but Blogger would have none of it. As a result, I have only used two. The first is derived from reported meetings between Tolkien and C.S Lewis, in which Tolkien would read Lewis some of his manuscripts, to which Lewis would (if he approved) wave his pipe and pace up and down crying ''distinguo, Tollers, distinguo!'' The other is pretty straightforward. The other changes (I can't remember them all, and it was 4:00am in the morning when I made them) include changing ''Favourite Blogs'' to ''Blogroll'' since many of the blogs in my Blogroll are not, in fact, my ''favourite'' blogs. Some are there because I find them especially interesting, others because they are amusing, some out of politeness (since the authors have added me to their blogrolls), some because I find it easier to just have a quick link to a blog without typing in the URL. As you probably know, I don't link to some blogs because I don't like the bloggers. Apropos, I have also done away with some blogs - only because I have realised that it is months since I last looked at them.

I hope you find this blog a tad more interesting because of the changes. I might make some more in the next few days, provided that I am spared for a time the rigours of scrupulous research (by that I mean leisurely sitting in the Library with a Lewis & Short and going through St Bede!)...

A lovely photo...

2010-01-12T23:29:00.004Z

I found this photo of the then Cardinal Ratzinger in Google Images a while ago. Isn't it very human? Pope Benedict is probably one of my favourite Popes; he is a theologian, an intellectual, a philosopher, a Latinist, a most accomplished man, a man with a clearer grasp of Liturgy than most of his 20th century predecessors; this photo also manifests his humanity, and good taste. He reminds me of J.R.R Tolkien in a way; and what greater compliment can Patricius render unto any man?

Many years to the Holy Father!

Anathema sint, Part II...

2010-01-12T15:36:00.003Z

The other day, I wrote about a group of old fools styling themselves ''Stand up for Vatican II'' - well, on Monday afternoon (when I should have been doing Bede!), I spent a good hour composing some Latin canons against them. I am not quite finished yet, but here is what I have done so far:

I. Contra eos qui pacem concordiamque Sanctae Ecclesiae occidere moliuntur.

II. Contra eos qui in duas ecclesias Ecclesiam scindere audent.

III. Contra eos qui Latinam Liturgiam, id est Liturgia sanctorum patrum, oderunt.

IV. Contra eos qui conscientias eas potius quam doctrinas Ecclesiae (qui errare non possunt) stulte sequuntur.

V. Contra senes qui de Spiritu Sancto spirenti et fenestris aperientibus insaniendo delirant.

Itaque, ignorantia Sancti Concilii Vaticani et Sanctarum Scriptuarum et Traditionis Ecclesiae Occidentalis eos haereticos fecerit; nimis imperiti veritatis ostenduntur; lupi sunt, et lupi esse videntur. De istis locutus est a rege: ''noluit intelligere, ut bene ageret; iniquitatem meditatus est in cubili suo'' (Ps. 36:4).

More soon...nunc enim hora est studiorum plenissima, et nos iuvenes, ex feriis in collegium reditus, maledictionem primi parentis sentimus, in sudore vultus etc!

Sexual morality...

2010-01-11T21:47:00.005Z

The other day, I linked to Liturgical Notes by Fr John Hunwicke, the Anglican priest in charge of a very Romish church in Oxford. I must do so again, for today he has written about an especially pertinent question in relation to Anglicanorum coetibus - that of sexual morality. I must repeat his sentiments that it is an embarrassing subject to talk about - even the word ''sex'' makes me blush! But in the face of secularism, we must needs overcome reservations. Fr Hunwicke says that some Anglicans have concerns about the implications of accepting Roman doctrine and discipline regarding the use of artificial contraception for their personal lives, their marriages etc. I don't personally understand why this is so difficult, since to me, the doctrines of Holy Mother Church resonate one from the other, each reflecting and containing an essential Truth that cannot be divorced from reason and conscience - so however ''incidental'' or ''unimportant,'' even perhaps ''inconvenient'' one Truth may be, they are all integral to the whole, so much so that the rejection of one leads to the rejection of them all - however much you might kid yourself. Apropos, anyone who rejects the Catholic doctrine regarding the use of artificial contraception rejects the doctrine that Man is made in the Image and Likeness of God, that God is Good, that Christ was enfleshsed hypostatically, born of the Holy Ghost and of the Blessed Virgin in the last days, accomplished our Salvation by suffering impassibly on the Holy Cross and broke the chains of Death on the Day of His glorious Resurrection, etc, and truly did the Psalmist write of them: ''he would not understand that he might do well. He has devised iniquity on his bed, he has set himself on every way that is not good: but evil he has not hated'' (Ps. 36:4).

Fr Hunwicke speaks of these critical matters in relation to Anglicans. My own musings, however, are personal and Catholic reflections - and more general. Of course, it doesn't do these days to profess belief in the infallibility of the Church, which to the minds of secular and therefore reprobate, Men is just another organisation among many, and to many self-styled Christians (and even Catholics - gags Patricius) is just one denomination among many. The Church's teaching on the use of artificial contraception concords naturally and truthfully with her teachings about Marriage, the legitimate birth of children, temperance - all of these things harmoniously facilitating the will and fathomless love of God in nature and our lives. And so to a society increasingly annexed by secularism, this teaching has become not only ''inconvenient'' but deplorable. How dare the Church interfere in peoples' private lives! Of course, anyone who remains faithful to the Church's teaching is accused of having recourse to a stern, authoritarian, unimaginative and certainly Medieval sexual morality - And you shall be hated by all men for my name's sake. But he that shall endure unto the end, he shall be saved (Mark 13:13). That artificial contraception merely reflects the various grotesqueries of human sexual tendency is a self-evident truth that doesn't occur to the secular mind.

Where does it all come from, and why? The bottomless pit of human iniquity? The legalisation of Divorce (the legalisation and tolerance of abuse) was certainly a catalyst in the social sphere of promiscuity. In 1943, J.R.R Tolkien wrote a letter to C.S Lewis (it was never in fact sent, it was found years later in Tolkien's copy of Lewis' work) criticising his views on marriage in his booklet ''Christian Behaviour.'' The letter (well worth the read, if you have a copy of Tolkien's Letters it is number 49) begins by trashing Lewis' view that there ought to be two kinds of marriage, ''Christian marriage'' which is binding and lifelong, and ''civil'' marriages, solemnised solely by the State and making no such demands. Tolkien says:

''A Christian of your view is, as we have seen, committed to the belief that all people who practice 'divorce' - certainly divorce as it is now legalized - are misusing the human machine (whatever philosophical defence they may put up), as certainly as men who get drunk (doubtless with a philosophic defence also). They are injuring themselves, other people, and society by their behaviour. And wrong behaviour (if it is really wrong on universal principles) is progressive, always: it never stops at being 'not very good', 'second best' - it either reforms, or goes on to a third-rate, bad, abominable. In no department is that truer than in sex - as you yourself vividly exhibit, in the comparison between a dish of bacon and strip-tease.* You show too that you yourself suspect that the break-down of sex-reticence in our time has not made matters better but worse. Anyone in any case can see that the enormous extension and facilitation of 'divorce' in our days, since those of (say) Trollopean society, has done great social harm. It is a slippery slope - leading quickly to Reno**, and beyond: in fact already to a promiscuity barely restrained by legalities: for a pair can now divorce one another, have an interlude with new partners, and then 're-marry.' A situation is being, has been, produced in which ordinary unphilosophical and irreligious folk are not only not restrained by law from inconstancy, but are actually by law and social custom encouraged to inconstancy. I need hardly add that a situation is thus being produced in which it is intolerably hard to bring up Christian youth in Christian sexual morals (which are ex hypothesi correct morals for all, and which will be lost which depend upon Christian youth for their maintenance).''

This may or may not seem relevant to everything that I have said. At any rate, I (as a Tolkien blogger, and probably the only Catholic Tolkien blogger!) am always reminded of some gem in his literary works whenever I write on issues related to Catholicism and the present life of Men. Tolkien wrote this letter in 1943, at a time which you'd expect to be better off socially and morally, but already in the early 1940s Tolkien bewails the crumbling edifice of decency and looks on at the building of Babel. It is noteworthy that Tolkien equates the two with the legalization of Divorce.

The secular mind (which is necessarily, an unsound mind) is imbalanced in its view of sexuality. At an official level (at least) homosexuality is socially acceptable - the legalization of genital homosexual acts between consenting parties in the 1960s, the existence of ''gay'' bars, the monstrous procurement of these ''civil partnerships'' etc, are sufficient to show this. However, underneath this pretence, people are still uncomfortable with it. In the playground (and the workplace!), for instance, if you call someone ''gay'', it is an insult. If only people fully understood the implications of such labels. Imagine for one moment the agony of a man, tragically homosexual, who realises that he cannot ever possibly love or be loved naturally, who must perforce (according to the discipline of his Faith) remain alone and chaste, without succour (for the most part - since the Church is indeed riddled with small-minded men) etc...then on top of this having to put up with almost unanimous scorn, scorn from people with a thousand vices of their own. Well, as Oscar Wilde said in De Profundis, I would rather have one unnatural vice than a thousand natural ones (or words to that effect, I am currently isolated from my copy). It is a rare mystery of the Faith, I suppose, to have at least one such penitent - but I often wonder if such penitents really, truly repudiate their ''condition'' (whatever it is, unfortunately the English language is famously inept in the taxonomy or definition of things using one word), for surely such repudiation must entail some element of self-loathing? I don't know what the suicide rate is among homosexual men (particularly teenagers), but it must be great...

I had planned on writing more but it was too depressing (and touchy) to carry on, so we must end here. Comments are welcome in the comment box...also, since I have neglected to cover any other fundamental subject (such as masturbation, fornication etc), suggestions as to a follow-up post would be welcome.

Hell...

2010-01-11T13:39:00.003Z

I so wish that I had read the Lay of Leithian before the abridged narrative in The Silmarillion. I am sure those readers of this blog who read these posts have already read The Silmarillion, and therefore know already what happens. I think this is a shame, for the prose has not the aesthetic and gripping power of verse, and in my opinion, ergo, falls short of Tolkien. Apropos, instead of giving the boring narrative, I post here some staves of Canto XIII of the Lay.

Into the vast and echoeing gloom,

more dread than many tunnelled tomb

in labyrinthine pyramid

where everlasting death is hid,

down awful corridors that wind

down to a menace dark enshrined;

down to the mountain's roots profound,

devoured, tormented, bored and ground

by seething vermin spawned of stone;

down to the depths they went alone.

The arch behind of twilit shade

they saw recede and dwindling fade;

the thunderous forges' rumour grew,

a burning wind there roaring blew

foul vapours up from gaping holes.

Huge shapes there stood like carven trolls

enormous hewn of blasted rock

to forms that mortal likeness mock;

monstrous and menacing, entombed,

at every turn they silent loomed

in fitful glares that leaped and died.

There hammers clanged, and tongues there cried

with sound like smitten stone; there wailed

faint from far under, called and failed

amid the iron clink of chain

voices of captives put to pain.

Loud rose a din of laughter hoarse,

self-loathing yet without remorse;

loud came a singing harsh and fierce

like swords of terror souls to pierce.

Red was the glare through open doors

of firelight mirrored on brazen floors,

and up the arches towering clomb

to glooms unguessed, to vaulted dome

swatched in wavering smokes and steams

stabbed with flickering lightning-gleams.

To Morgoth's hall, where dreadful feast

he held, and drank the blood of beast

and lives of Men, they stumbling came:

their eyes were dazed with smoke and flame.

The pillars, reared like monstrous shores

to bear earth's overwhelming floors,

were devil-carven, shaped with skill

such as unholy dreams doth fill:

they towered like trees into the air,

whose trunks are rooted in despair,

whose shade is death, whose fruit is bane,

whose boughs like serpents writhe in pain.

Beneath them ranged with spear and sword

stood Morgoth's sable-armoured horde:

the fire on blade and boss of shield

was red as blood on stricken field.

Beneath a monstrous column loomed

the throne of Morgoth, and the doomed

and dying gasped upon the floor:

his hideous footstool, rape of war.

About him sat his awful thanes,

the Balrog-lords with fiery manes,

redhanded, mouthed with fangs of steel;

devouring wolves were crouched at heel.

And o'er the host of hell there shone

with cold radiance, clear and wan,

the Silmarils, the gems of fate,

emprisoned in the crown of hate.

(The Lay of Leithian, Canto XIII, lines 3840-3903).

Anathema sint...

2010-01-10T07:00:00.002Z

I have just read on Mulier Fortis of a group styling itself ''Stand Up for Vatican II.'' Look at their website for a good laugh - there's nothing more pathetic than a geriatric telling me about how to ''move with the times.''

I enjoy reading the Canons of Ecumenical Councils. I thought about composing some of my own, such as ''if anyone despises the Old Rite, let him be anathema...'' or a few like that, but I suppose at the risk of being labelled a fanatic, I'll just leave it...I expect that charity and prayers on behalf of these sick people might cover a multitude of sins, and Lord knows, they may get well...

Singulare Ingenium

New Blog...

Good counsel?

A prelude...

St Leo...well almost...

Politics...

Thought-provoking...

The Childhood of Túrin, Part I...

Ugh...

''Ecclesiastical'' Latin and Liturgy...

Traddies...

Some pedantry...

Dominica Resurrectionis...

Maxima Redemptionis...

Which is more catholic?

Two Tolkien snippets...on '62...

Post omission...

Narn i Chîn Húrin, the Intro...

Even more Traddies...

The realm of Sauron is ended!

More ''traddies''...

Sycophants...

The aftermath of the Battle...

Visitations...

A tragedy...

Nirnaeth Arnoediad...

More questions of liturgy...

Sancti Patricii...

Birthdays...

The Union of Maedhros...

Prayers for the Pope...

The good old days...

Sancti Gregorii...

''Look at all the mess...

Is Retro always best?

Liturgy and eras in Church history...

The last stage...

The Hunt for the Wolf...

Beren and Lúthien return to the Woods...

Lewis & Short for iPhone...

Is there an App for conversation?

The consolation of my new iPhone...

Questions about Holy Communion...

Tweed...

Such counsels...

Another one of those posts...

Questions about Liturgy and Language...

Lethargy...

Does Rome have all the answers?

I'm still alive...

Music and Low Mass...part one?

The Madness of Carcharoth...

More Catullus...

An elegy...

Abebooks...

''Are you going to get married?''

A full day...

The captives sad in Angband mourn...

Student Life and me...

O tempora...

St Scholastica...

Collects...

More Jonah...

Rare Tolkien photo...

Liturgy and conscience...

More Quest of the Silmaril...

Education...

In Purificatione Beatae Mariae Virginis, quae dicitur ''Candlemas''

Book news et al...

Septuagesima...

Ultramontanism and the Liturgy...

Ambulans...

''Are you going to be a priest?''

My little book...

Sancti Ioannes Chrysostomi...

Musings on the Introit...

Uneasy sleep...

Just say no...

In Conversione Sancti Pauli...

My bit for this ''Octave''...