Thinking about things...

I think a lot, perhaps too much. I was thinking, when I woke up this morning, about the Church's teaching on homosexuality. I memorised this quote by the then Cardinal Ratzinger by rote: ''although the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is, however, a strong tendency ordered to an intrinsic moral evil. It must be seen, therefore, as an objective disorder.'' This requires some thought. I do not disagree with the Church's teaching, since it is founded on the authority of God and the order of nature, but the whole thing seems to suggest to me that people of that ''inclination'' are beyond any use or any good, without the possibility either to love or be loved by someone else, which is tragic. Their ''inclination'' is objectively disordered - that's it; they are unclean pieces of flesh, they have to be cut away. Called to chastity and continence etc, etc...

Most homosexual people fill me with revulsion and contempt. It sickens me to see them parade their perversity about, and the very notion of those ''marriages'' is monstrous. But then, for those poor ones with that accursed condition (what else is it?) who try to live chastely according to the teachings of the Church it must be terrible. Terrible in the sense that they belong to neither group really; they do not fit in with the ''gay rights'' people, who wear their perversity with a badge of pride, because quite rightly they see them as more bestial than human; and at the same time, according to the very words of Cardinal Ratzinger, they do not quite fit into the Church either. People do not look at them the same way, they are ''objectively disordered'' in spite of themselves. Are they born that way? Does God make ''mistakes?'' Something is horribly wrong somewhere; perhaps it is some evil fruit of the Fall? Are they evil? It all seems rather tragic; that they are doomed to forever straddle between Church and Secular, in the knowledge that they'll never quite belong to either one.

The above photograph is, of course, of Oscar Wilde. A brilliant man, whose romantic affairs were, how shall I say it, irregular. Wilde was married to Constance Lloyd, a woman he probably really did love, since she was very grave and beautiful. I enjoy his work, as I also enjoyed the works of Plato and Michelangelo...

All Souls...

I have been busy all day so I haven't had time to post about All Souls, a feast very dear to me. I don't suppose that there is much to say about the Feast, or at least I can't think of anything at present; so here's my translation of the Dies Irae instead.

The Day of Wrath! That day
will dissolve all the world in ashes,

with David as the witness with the Sybil.

O how great the trembling is going to be,

when the Judge is about to come,

about to sift out everything thoroughly.

The trumpet spreading out a wondrous sound

through all the tombs of the regions,

will compel all before the Throne.

Death will stand aghast and nature,

when the creature arises

about to respond to the one judging.

The written book will be brought forth,

in which the whole thing will be contained,

whence the world will be judged.

Therefore when the Judge sits down

whatever lies hidden will appear

nothing unpunished will remain.

What am I a wretch about to say then?

What patron am I to ask,

when scarcely the just man will be secure?

King of tremendous majesty,

you who save those to be saved unmerited,

save me, fount of piety.

Remember, pious Jesus,

that I am the reason of your way;

do not loose me on that day.

Looking for me, you sat exhausted:

you have redeemed having suffered the Cross;

may not so great a labour be wasted.

O just judge of vengeance,

make me a gift of remission

before the day of reckoning.

I begin to cry, just as the guilty;

my face is red with sin;

spare the supplicants, O God.

You who absolved Mary,

and heard the thief,

you have given me hope also.

My prayers are not worthy

but you, good [God, I suppose], act kindly,

lest I be cremated in endless fire.

Among the sheep provide a place

and sequester me from the goats,

putting me on the right side.

The cursed having been confounded,

given up to the violent flames;

call me with the blessed.

I pray beseeching and head-bowed,

my heart is contrite as ashes;

take care of my end.

Full of tears that day

on which they will rise from the dust

a man to be judged as the guilty

spare, therefore, this man, O God.

Pious Lord Jesus,

give them rest. Amen.

Looks and sounds nicer in Latin doesn't it! When I die, I am going to have a Traditional Rite Funeral; hopefully with the whole lot: the bringing of my body into the Church, Matins and Lauds for the Dead, the Requiem Mass, the Absolution and the burying. I am also going to be buried facing Eastwards, so that come the Day of Judgement, I shall rise again facing Jerusalem. No godless and heathen cremations for me. When Tolkien died, in the culturally and liturgically magnificent early '70s, his funeral was a concelebrated farce. He really ought to have had a Pontifical High Mass of Requiem at the Throne with the Five Absolutions...!

Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace. Amen.

Pro puellis?

Whilst ''rummaging'' the other day, I came across an old newspaper article in The Irish Post from 21st December 1996 with my photo in it. I was present at a Feis (the Irish word for ''competition,'' pronounced ''fesh'') at Whitechapel in East London. I remember that day fondly; it was very exciting having my photo taken for a newspaper! I recall all my days of Irish dancing with a mixture of joy and regret. I certainly enjoyed doing it, and there were many benefits to it. I was always fit, my legs and arms were strong, I had, and still have, excellent posture, I was seldom if ever ill, it was good exercise, I had friends which, in spite of my ''ailment,'' were many, I was confident because I was talented at it, I had (and probably still do) a perfect sense of rhythm (which, oddly, I find comes in handy whilst censing the Celebrant at Mass - 1...2, 1...2, 1...2; not 1.2, 1......2,.....1...2,) it required physical discipline and you got to march in the St Patrick's day parades! It was altogether worthwhile, and I am glad my mother took me along. I suppose it was part of her ''you're NOT English'' routine, but there we are. I went to my first lesson with my younger brother and I loved it; he didn't, he hated it and never went back. I remember my days of dancing with regret because I sometimes regret that I never continued it. I wonder what life would be like now if I had done so? That, I suppose, no one will ever know.

Now comes the question: is Irish dancing for girls?! I ask because this was the general consensus when I was at school among the boys (and is so still I found out today!). The girls I went to school with thought it was cute. I remember going home to my mother one day complaining that I was made fun of by the other boys for it, calling me names like ''sissy,'' or ''pansy.'' She told me not to worry, and that those particular boys (the ones at school) didn't amount to much themselves, had no talent and were jealous. She then told me that if they saw me dance, they would make fun of me no more. She was right too. This was arranged for one St Patrick's day (the patronal feast of the school) and I danced in front of the whole school.

So the question: is Irish dancing for girls? No, and boys who do it, and love to do it, in spite of teasing, deserve a pat on the back in my opinion; it takes a lot of confidence.

Update: I just spoke to my mother and she said that in Irish Dancing, as also in Ballet, the male dancers were generally a lot more skilled than their commonplace female counterparts!

All Saints...

Happy Feast day all! This Feast is to celebrate all the holy and heroic men and women who, in the deeps of time, perhaps just got overlooked and are not remembered in the Martyrology. It is worth noting that much of today's Mass, therefore, comes from the Common and is not Proper.

St Patrick, pray for us.

St Joseph, pray for us.

St Anthony of Padua, pray for us.

St Francis of Assisi, pray for us.

Running low...

...on blog post ideas. According to my Sitemeter, a lot of readers have got bored and gone off to other blogs - I only had 29 visitors yesterday! That's the lowest for any day for months. I was thinking the other day of writing a kind of synopsis of the changes between The Lord of the Rings the book and the film. For that I'd have to sit down and watch the films again, which I haven't seen for years, . If readers think this is a good idea, please leave a comment. Do offer any other blog post ideas too!

Great news...

I don't have to work weekends anymore! Today was my last Saturday - hopefully this year, but with Christmas coming up I don't suppose I can tactfully get out of every Saturday. Being my usual unhelpful self at work (hating the company that much) I do manage to get out of unwanted overtime a lot, but it does backfire somewhat when I ask to swap a day with someone for some reason and they refuse. It's a shame my last day was today, though, as we had Vespers at Blackfen. I have managed to miss all but one service of Vespers this year, since they are always on Saturdays. It would be nice to have Sunday Vespers once in a while, since this is more proper than yet another Mass - they are so commonplace. As I have said before, down with Low Mass, up with sung Office!

Another anniversary...

A bit of useless Tolkien ''trivia'' here: on this day (30th October) 90 years ago, J.R.R Tolkien received his Master of Arts degree in a Congregation. It may surprise readers, but Tolkien never in his life wrote a thesis for the purpose of earning a DPhil. I like to think that this was because he spent a great deal of his life writing theses and essays at doctoral level on complex philological stuff! He was, of course, awarded an honorary Doctorate of Letters (the second highest after the prestigious Doctor of Divinity) by the University of Oxford in 1972 for his vast scholarly contribution to English language and literature.

Continuing with the Lay...

It's been a while now since I posted about the wonderful Lay of Leithian, but one thing drives out another as Barliman Butterbur would say. We have reached the stage now where Beren has declared his purposes before the King:

Silence then fell upon the hall;

like graven stone there stood they all,

save one who cast her eyes aground,

and one who laughed with bitter sound.

Dairon the piper leant there pale

against a pillar. His fingers frail

there touched a flute that whispered not;

his eyes were dark; his heart was hot.

''Death is the guerdon thou hast earned,

O baseborn mortal, who hast learned

in Morgoth's realm to spy and lurk

like Orcs that do his evil work!''

''Death!'' echoed Dairon fierce and low,

but Lúthien trembling gasped in woe.

''And death,'' said Thingol, ''thou shouldst taste,

had I not sworn an oath in haste

that blade nor chain thy flesh should mar.

Yet captive bound by never a bar,

unchained, unfettered, shalt thou be

in lightless labyrinth endlessly

that coils about my halls profound

by magic bewildered and enwound;

there wandering in hopelessness

thou shalt learn the power of Elfinesse!''

''That may not be!'' Lo! Beren spake,

and through the king's words coldly brake.

''What are thy mazes but a chain

wherein the captive blind is slain?

Twist not thy oaths, O elvish king,

like faithless Morgoth! By this ring -

the token of a lasting bond

that Felagund of Nargothrond

once swore in love to Barahir,

who sheltered him with shield and spear

and saved him from pursuing foe

on Northern battlefields long ago -

death thou canst give unearned to me,

but names I will not take of thee

of baseborn, spy, or Morgoth's thrall!

Are these the ways of Thingol's hall?''

Proud are the words, and all there turned

to see the jewels green that burned

in Beren's ring. These Gnomes had set

as eyes of serpents twined that met

beneath a golden crown of flowers,

that one upholds and one devours:

the badge that Finrod made of yore

and Felagund his son now bore.

His anger was chilled, but little less,

and dark thoughts Thingol did possess,

though Melian the pale leant to his side

and whispered: ''O king, forgo thy pride!

Such is my counsel. Not by thee

shall Beren be slain, for far and free

from these deep halls his fate doth lead,

yet wound with thine. O king, take heed!''

But Thingol looked on Lúthien.

''Fairest of Elves! Unhappy Men,

children of little lords and kings

mortal and frail, these fading things,

shall they then look with love on thee?''

his heart within him thought. ''I see

thy ring,'' he said, ''O mighty man!

But to win the child of Melian

a father's deeds shall not avail,

nor thy proud words at which I quail.

A treasure dear I too desire,

but rocks and steel and Morgoth's fire

from all the powers of Elfinesse

do keep the jewel I would possess.

Yet bonds like these I hear thee say

affright thee not. Now go thy way!

Bring me one shining Silmaril

from Morgoth's crown, then if she will,

may Lúthien set her hand in thine;

then shalt thou have this jewel of mine.''

(The History of Middle-earth, Volume III, The Lays of Beleriand, The Lay of Leithian, Canto IV, Lines 1055-1131).

J.R.R Tolkien wrote the Lay of Leithian between the Summer of 1925 and abandoned it sometime in 1931; as such, much of what appears in the Lay is incongruous with some of the later work. Therefore, I set readers a nice challenge! Can anyone spot a discrepancy between the canto I have just posted and the published Silmarillion? Unfortunately, there is no reward, unless (perhaps) you know me personally...I spotted three...

A Grand Day Out...

''Everyone knows the Moon's made of cheese...'' quoth Wallace.

A Grand Day Out (with Wallace & Gromit) is in its 20th year now. I think that its one of the best cartoons ever made, so sweet and simple. I remember going to my friend David's house when I was in Primary School and watching it about 8 times in a row. I only stopped watching it because David's mother came in and told me off. Just a moment ago, I said to my mother that in many ways Wallace and Gromit reminded me of my dog and I (I actally have two dogs, but I prefer one to the other), and she said something that made me chuckle. She said: ''what, the dog has more sense than you?''

Dream on...

A thought just came to me, and I should have thought of it ages ago. With the influx of so many Anglicans, clergy and all, as well as the reconciliation of the SSPX with Rome, we'll be able to have more High Mass and hopefully less Low Mass. Which is just as well because I am trying to memorise points from O'Connell...

I.Q tests...

I don't believe that intelligence can be measured. Having taken I.Q tests in the past, I fail spectacularly at them - getting ridiculously low results such as 75. An I.Q of 75 means I am a vegetable, and shouldn't know how to use a computer let alone maintain a readable blog. But I am not very intelligent; all I am really good at is memorising facts and dates by rote. Having said that, I know I am more intelligent than some people - even some people with University degrees, but then I guess that nowadays, having a degree doesn't mean that one is necessarily more intelligent or able than the rest of us. Anyone can go to University these days, and do a degree in something like James Bond films - all you have to do is subject yourself to a sausage factory mentality for three years, regurgitate unoriginal and derivative essays and you're laughing. Now, for people like me who can't quite fit into any category, well that's another story. I'd go back to the days, as I have said before, where University was the province of the truly intelligent and the Upper Classes. Egalitarianism is, of course, a monstrous notion. Any comments/suggestions would be welcome in the comment box...

By the way, I got this idea because Fr Finigan has put up a post about Language, Liturgy and Understanding - understanding in the literal sense.

The St Lawrence Press Ordo, MMX...

The Ordo Recitandi published by the St Lawrence Press for the Year of Our Lord 2010 is now ready for despatch. It is highly useful and I would strongly recommend it for the traditional parish. It is all in Latin of course, after the manner of the old Roman Ordos from the mid-20th century, but it is not difficult Latin, and for anyone fully immersed in Ecclesiastical vocabulary, it is very easy to read. To place your order, follow the above link.

Musings on recent years...

In April 2005, I was 17 and at Sixth Form College. On the Friday of Pope John Paul II's Funeral, we were given the day off and I watched it on the BBC news, trying my hardest to ignore the stupid running commentary of Huw Edwards. It was about as solemn and decorous as the New Rite could provide for the Funeral of a Pontiff I suppose, and Cardinal Ratzinger was the Celebrant, so I just ignored the lay readers and anything else which smacked of Novus Ordo irreverence. I only knew the name Cardinal Ratzinger before then, and I had never seen him before, but when he came out to offer Mass, I took an instant liking to him. One thing I clearly remember about that Pontifical Requiem Mass was that the Cardinal refused even once to look into the camera. I remember thinking at the time (in my quaint silly way) that my mother and I were the same age when we first saw a Papal death. My mother was born in 1961, which means that in 1978 when Pope Paul VI died she was 17 (she says that she can't remember Pope John XXIII). It was a major event, and when I returned to Sixth Form after the Easter break, I felt that during the Sede Vacante, the world lacked something essential.

I remember during the Conclave the secular media were considering the Papabile, and what the world ''expected'' of a Pope (that he be multilingual, morally spineless etc), and thinking to myself ''what has this got to do with you?'' And then finally, when the what looked like grey smoke issued from the Sistine Chapel, I was literally on the edge of my seat. Then the Cross-bearer came out, and the Cardinal Proto-deacon or whatever he is, and he announced probably the best news of my life up to that date. I was euphoric! Even more so because I was going to World Youth Day later in the year, and I would see him face-to-face. I remember that the election of an ''old conservative'' wasn't pleasing to many, even some so-called Catholics, but what did that matter? I was well-pleased. I enjoyed World Youth Day with the Holy Father for the most part, except some ghastly catechesis (with guitars, priests dressed in mufti, waving hands etc), and during the Papal Mass in Marienfeld, the Holy Father looked right at me - which is to say, he looked in my general direction from about 40 feet away!

In 2005, I attended my first Old Rite Mass - a Low Mass at the London Oratory. I can't say I was profoundly moved by it, since it was only a Low Mass, but I found it intriguing, and it was better than any Latin sung Mass in the New Rite that I had heretofore attended. I was rather confused by the Server turning in toward the priest during the Preparatory Prayers - it took me ages to figure out why he did that! At this time, I had no idea what a motu proprio was, nor did I imagine that within the next few years the Old Rite would be freed and brought rightly back into the liturgical life of the Universal Church. As the next two years passed, I remember approving of everything the Holy Father did and taught (with the possible exception of him going into a Mosque in Constantinople), and when the Motu Proprio was issued, I quoted the Psalmist: A Domino factum est istud, et est mirabile in oculis nostris (This has been made by the Lord, and it is marvellous in our eyes).

Since his election, the Holy Father has made ''ecumenism'' a major part of his Pontificate. I can't say that I approve of the Ecumenical Movement as it has so often manifested itself - Ecumenical Services, praying in common, joint declarations etc, but the approach Pope Benedict has adopted is certainly one to my liking, and very resonant. He is both benevolent and very wise. He has watered down no Church teaching - if anything, he has proclaimed the essential truths of faith more powerfully than his predecessor - but the prospects of a united Christendom seem all the more likely. I wonder that people don't see it. Secular people, and some Catholics, rabbit on and on about how ''divisive'' the Pope is, how out-of-touch with modern man, how he puts people off by making mistakes etc, but this is probably because they thrive on dispute and can't stand an orthodox and sensible approach to the Unity of the Church. The Holy Father has rightly seen the necessity of liturgical orthopraxis, how this relates to the complexities of Ecumenism, and is doing his utmost to foster that unity of liturgy and doctrine which is so needed today. I can't wait until he celebrates his first Papal High Mass in the Old Rite in St Peter's.

As regards the Anglicans; having thought and prayed earnestly about it for some days, I see now that perhaps this is the most practical and pastoral approach at the present. In any case, the Holy Father has a better grasp of these deep and complex matters than I. Maybe it is the best way to get our ancestral churches back, and who knows, maybe it will prove only temporary, and that in a generation or two, the Anglo-Catholics will be fully assumed into the Church and can finally repudiate their tradition. Step by step...God bless our wise and loving Pope!

MCing High Mass...

I wonder when I'll be able to MC my first High Mass in the Old Rite? I have been trying to read and memorise points from Fortescue and O'Connell, and I watch all the time, but there is always something I don't know, or can't remember. I know the Rite of High Mass up to just after the Celebrant blesses the Subdeacon after the Epistle, but afterwards my mind is rather hazy. Like the Missa Cantata, however, perhaps it comes with experience rather than just reading about it. Would that there were more High Masses, and blast the shortage of priests! There are, of course, odd points in Fortescue - for example, for the Consecration, he has the MC kneeling at the Epistle corner with the Thurifer - this seems rather odd since shortly afterwards, at Per Quem Haec Omnia, he is supposed to replace the Deacon at the Celebrant's left and attend to the Missal. Also, I have never seen any MC do as Fortescue says on this point in all the time I have served or merely attended High Mass.

In any case, the Master of Ceremonies at a High Mass is there just as much for the Ministers as the Servers, and although he does less, he has to know everything - and everything is a hell of a lot! But then I expect like my knowledge of Tolkien, it comes with years rather than months of reading...