tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26527429549289110512024-03-12T16:06:39.671-07:00Extraordinary TimeDabo quod habeoLeo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-85153732822010901642019-07-09T08:09:00.000-07:002019-07-09T08:16:29.634-07:00Judith's First Mass<p>Judith spent a great deal of Saturday looking at her crucifix. She was hypnotized by it. Of course one must not allow oneself to be influenced by coincidences. They do not mean anything. They just happen. However, it was rather absurd to be studying medieval history and never to have attended Mass. After all, apart from ruins, it was the only thing that had come intact from Imperial Rome, through the Dark and Middle Ages down to the present day. As an historical phenomenon it was unique. She could write brilliant essays for Miss Biggs on religious movements in the 12th century but had never looked at the reality in the identical shape under her nose. It had nothing to do with Edmund. She was being objective; it would help her understanding of history. She found out the times of Mass at St. Aloysius's for the next day, Sunday.</p>
<p>Inevitably, both as an educated young woman and as a student of history, Judith knew something about Catholicism: papal infallibility, cardinals, the Real Presence, confession, indulgences and the like – things which seemed completely divorced from reality. But such knowledge does not help very much in practice. In the first place, being unused to church-going, she arrived for Mass far too early. There was nobody there to give her a cue. You had to do something or other with holy water. She dipped her glove in but decided that you were probably meant to take the glove off. She put her hand in but had forgotten to bring a towel and none was provided. She waggled her hand about until it dried. Genuflecting in front of the tabernacle: that ought to be easy enough. Yes, but which knee, right or left? After much thought, she did both, one after the other. Then came the insoluble problem of where to go. If only the church had been full she could have stood inconspicuously at the back.</p>
<p>But it was empty. To stand would be terribly conspicuous. The wretched building had no convenient columns behind which to hide. Then, were the seats reserved? Was there a special pew for non-Catholics? She was on the point of leaving when a boisterous family barged in, blocking the only exit; coppers were given to the older kids and sticky sweets to the younger. Behind them was a motley crew filling the little courtyard. She recognized a girl from Somerville whom she particularly disliked, so she could not push her way out for fear of meeting her. She followed the boisterous family and sat directly behind it.
What turned out to be rather less than half the congregation had piled in when a bell was rung and a diminutive boy emerged from the right followed by a priest. Judith was well-acquainted with vestments from splendid pictures by Rubens, and with birettas from 17th century engravings. Naturally, these did not prepare her for how immensely comic they looked on the gaunt figure of Father Philip McEnery, S.J.</p>
<p>The priest gave his cap to the diminutive boy, spread his tools on the altar, turned his back on the people and started off at high speed in incomprehensible Latin.</p>
<p>Judith had always imagined that Roman Catholics had a special grace or charism – whatever the word was – enabling them to understand Latin. Perhaps they had, but it was quite certain that they were not using it. Nobody was paying the slightest attention to the priest, just as the priest was paying not the slightest attention to the congregation.</p>
<p>In front of her, the older children were rolling their coppers about the floor while the younger ones filled their mother's handbag with sticky sweet-papers or used the bench as an improvised trapeze. All this without the parents taking any notice whatsoever, except when the father gave the youngest a good clout for climbing up his back and landing, over his head, on the bench in front. Dad was far too occupied in arranging little pictures of saints in a much-thumbed book called, Judith could see, <i>The Garden of the Soul</i>. Mum sighed spasmodically as she rattled, very literally, though the Rosary. Much the same was going on all round her.</p>
<p>However, all these good people must have had a vague consciousness of what was happening at the altar because they all followed with unbelievable discipline a sort of sacred gym of breast-beating, cross-signing, kneeling, sitting, standing and the like. Exhausted by over five minutes of gym, the congregation collapsed into the benches while the priest put on his cap and ascended the pulpit. Judith steeled herself for a sermon; she had always abominated them at school. She need not have worried. Although in the vernacular, it was clearly a part of the liturgy: a list of events which nobody could possibly want to attend, a ticking-off about money and a long catalogue of totally unknown dead people for whom one was asked to pray. The priest returned to the altar, having duly given his cap to the diminutive boy.</p>
<p>Then things seemed to start in earnest. The priest began fiddling about with his tools in complete silence. Dad started to clout his children at regular intervals. Something was up. From her mediaeval studies, Judith recognized the Sanctus. There was a surge onto knees; she could hear the click in the old folk's joints. There was another bell and even the smallest child in front of her disappeared under the bench. Then there were six bells and the elevation. Judith knew what it meant: it was the consecration, the Real Presence. There fell a silence like the primeval silence before ever the world came to be. It was colossal.</p>
<p>Anyway, so it went on, all utterly inhuman, out of this world. Long before the end, people started surging out. Perhaps it was etiquette for the priest to be first aboard and last off the ship, like a sea captain. However, Judith waited. Eventually the priest collected his tools, put his cap on and, preceded by the diminutive boy, went out as he had come in. The boisterous family gathered itself, looking radiantly happy and chirping like sparrows. They went. Judith stayed.</p>
<p>So that was Mass. Certainly it had been nothing like her preconceived notion as to what a religious ceremony ought to be. It was not in any sense a community service; everybody seemed to be doing exactly as he liked. There was no question of "improving" anybody. Neither were there any of those ghastly, smug prayers which used to make her writhe at school. Their memory haunted her yet: "Let us pray for the United Nations and all who work for peace," "Let us pray for racial justice in South Africa," "Let us pray that industrial conflicts should find a Christian solution" and so on. They had probably contributed to Judith's irreligion more than the influence of her father. But at Mass nobody or nothing had been prayed for at all, apart from the list of unknown dead "whose anniversaries occur about this time." No, that was not quite true: right at the end when the congregation was surging out there had been some Hail Marys followed by some incomprehensible prayers.</p>
<p>Yes, that was the Mass: aboriginal Christianity. Judith sat there completely shattered.</p>
Fr. Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/bhjm.html"><i>Judith's Marriage</i></a>, pp. 18–21,Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-59634480670338766132018-11-22T05:58:00.002-08:002018-11-22T06:00:38.069-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Gospel Scenes</div>
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2nd Edition, 2018,</div>
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Friends</div>
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Tel Aviv</div>
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November 15, 2018</div>
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Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-7712151028713476932018-01-14T08:45:00.002-08:002018-01-14T08:45:36.031-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-18119714274497222402017-07-15T06:00:00.000-07:002017-07-15T10:14:47.483-07:00Benedikt XVI auf Kardinal Meisner<b>Grußwort des emeriteirten Papstes Benedikt XVI. in der Beisetzungsfeier von Kardinal Joachim Meisner, am 15.0.2017</b><br />
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<b><a href="https://www.erzbistum-koeln.de/export/sites/ebkportal/.content/.galleries/downloads/170715_papst_em_benedikt_gr_requiem_meisner.pdf">PEK Dokumentation</a></b><br />
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Vatikanstadt<br />
11.7.2017<br />
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In dieser Stunde, in der die Kirche von Köln und gläubige Menschen weit darüber hinaus Abschied nehmen von Kardinal Joachim Meisner, bin auch ich in meinem Herzen and meinen Gedanken bei Ihnen und folge deshalb gern dem Wunsch von Kardinal Woelki, ein Wort des Gedenkens an Sie zu richten.<br />
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Als ich vergangenen Mittwoch durch ein Telefonat den Tod von Kardinal Meisner erfuhr, wollte ich es zunächst nicht glauben. Am Tag zuvor hatten wir noch über das Telefon miteinander gesprochen. Aus seiner Stimme klang die Dankbarkeit dafür, dass er nun im Urlaub angelangt war, nachdem er am Sonntag zuvor (25. Juni) noch an der Seligsprechung von Bischof Teofilius Matulionis in Vilnius teilgenommen hatte. Die Liebe zu den Kirchen in den Nachbarländern im Osten die unter der kommunistischen Verfolgung gelitten hatten, wie die Dankbarkeit für das Standhalten in den Leiden jener Zeit hat ihn zeitlebens geprägt. Und so ist es wohl doch kein Zufall, dass der letzte Besuch in seinem Leben einem der Bekenner des Glaubens in jenen Ländern gegolten hat.<br />
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Was mich an den letzten Gesprächen mit dem heimgegangenen Kardinal besonders beeindruckt hat, war die gelöste Heiterkeit, die innere Freude und die Zuversicht, zu der er gefunden hatte. Wir wissen, dass es ihm, dem leidenschaftlichen Hirten und Seelsorger, schwerfiel, sein Amt zu lassen und dies gerade in einer Zeit, in der die Kirche besonders dringend überzeugender Hirten bedarf, die der Diktatur des Zeitgeistes widerstehen und ganz entschieden aus dem Glauben leben und denken. Aber um so mehr hat es mich bewegt, dass er in dieser letzten Periode seines Lebens loszulassen gelernt hat und immer mehr au der tiefen Gewissheit lebte, das der Herr seiner Kirche nicht verlässt, auch wenn manchmal das Boot schon fast zum Kentern angefüllt ist.<br />
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Zwei Dinge haben ihn in der letzten Zeit immer mehr froh and gewiss werden lassen.<br />
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Zum einen hat er mir immer wieder berichtet, wie es ihn mit tiefer Freude erfüllt, in Bußsakrament zu erleben, wie gerade junge Menschen, vor allem auch junge Männer, die Gnade der Vergebung erleben — das Geschenk, wirklich das Leben gefunden zu haben, das ihnen nur Gott geben kann.</blockquote>
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Das andere, was ihn immer neu berührt und freudig gestimmt hat, war das leise Wachsen der eucharistischen Anbetung. Beim Weltjugendtag in Köln war ihm dies ein zentraler Punkt — dass es Anbetung gebe, eine Stille, in der nur der Herr zu den Herzen spricht. Manche Experten der Pastoral und der Liturgie waren der Meinung, dass sich eine solche Stille im Hinschauen auf den Herrn bei einer so riesigen Anzahl von Menschen nicht erreichen lasse. Einige waren wohl auch der Meinung, eucharistische Anbetung sei als solche überholt, da ja der Herr im eucharistischen Brot empfangen und nicht angeschaut werden wolle. Aber dass man dieses Brot nicht essen kann wie irgendwelche Nahrungsmittel und dass dem Herrn im eucharistischen Sakrament zu "empfangen" alle Dimensionen unsere Existenz einfordert — dass Empfangen Anbeten sein muss, ist inzwischen doch wieder sehr deutlich geworden. So ist die Weile der eucharisitischen Anbetung beim Kölner Weltjugendtag zu einem inneren Ereignis geworden, das nicht nur dem Kardinal unvergesslich blieb. Dieser Augenblick war ihm seither immer inwendig gegenwärtig und ein großes Light für ihn.</blockquote>
Als an seinem letzten Morgen Kardinal Meisner nicht zur Messe erschien, wurde er in seinem Zimmer tot aufgefunden. Das Brevier war seinen Händen entglitten: Er war betend gestorben, im Blick auf den Herrn, im Gespräch mit dem Herrn. Die Art des Sterbens, die ihm geschenkt wurde, zeigt noch einmal auf, wie er gelebt hat: Im Blick auf den Herrn und im Gespräch mit ihm. So dürfen wir seine Seele getrost der Güte Gottes anempfehlen. Herr, wir danken dir für das Zeugnis deines Dieners Joachim. Lass ihn nun Fürbitter für die Kirche von Köln und auf dem ganzen Erdenrund sein! Requiescat in pace!<br />
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<i>(gez. Benedikt XVI.)</i><br />
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<br />Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-25570769130224020462017-06-29T08:28:00.005-07:002017-06-29T08:38:41.788-07:00Bishop Forester on Concelebration<div align="LEFT" style="color: #552800; font-family: arial, tahoma, verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>9.</b> Extract from letters to two Parish Priests on the subject of concelebration. Both letters are dated Tuesday, January 18th,<sup></sup>1977.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am vaguely surprised that you should feel so strongly in favour of concelebration because I happen to hate it myself. After all, we concelebrate with Jesus. To have Tom, Dick and Harry concelebrating as well does not add to the intimacy of the Divine Co-Celebrant. It may not detract but can certainly distract from that intimacy. You obviously feel otherwise since you talk of the sense of comradeship in Christ which you feel at concelebrations. Mind you, comradeship in Christ is not the same as comradeship with Christ.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">However, to come to your specific question: Yes. The Immemorial Rite and my hybrid are not intended for concelebration and are in fact unsuitable since they are silent. Concelebrants should consequently use the New Ordo plus, of course, the Offertory prayers from the Tridentine missal. Such, at least, is my present view.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I am grateful to you for bring up this matter as I should probably never have thought of it myself. Moreover, I am so prejudiced against concelebration that I doubt my ability to give a fair ruling on it. Your letter has the merit of reminding me that others think otherwise. In view of all which, I shall submit the whole question to the Chapter when it meets on Thursday. I shall ask it to make a careful study of concelebration under every aspect and submit to me its recommendations in due course. This may take six months or more, so, in the meantime, please follow my recommendation above: New Ordo plus old Offertory. I shall hand your letter to the Provost but perhaps you would care to write to him directly.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You may well ask why I should be so anti-concelebration. I have already given you the fundamental reason: we are co-celebrant with Jesus and a thousand human co-celebrants still only make one Mass. To put it very mildly, the multiplication of human co-celebrants makes it appear as though the efficacy of Mass was dependent on the presence and intention of priests rather than on the presence and will of Christ. For two priests to concelebrate one Mass is not the same as for them to celebrate two Masses.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But I have other reasons as well</span><span style="font-size: medium;">—notably the abuses to which concelebration is prone. You remember the requiem for poor Father Roy Burns last June? Unfortunately I was unable to be present; had I been I should have stopped the whole proceedings. Perhaps you were one the co-concelebrants? Fortunately I do not know. However, the last straw occurred in July. Admittedly I was in France but we need not imagine that such things do not happen here.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I was staying with a priest friend in the South of France. We did not concelebrate: I said Mass first, then he. Incidentally, we used the Immemorial Rite. On the second day my friend was reading the Gospel when a couple of scruffy individuals plonked themselves down in the pews. Having finished the Gospel, my friend turned to them and asked if they wished to receive Holy Communion—in order to consecrate the small hosts as, of course, there was no reservation in the church. They did. When Mass was over they followed us into the sacristy. One of them said to my friend: “Mon Dieu! That was difficult; we have both forgotten the old Mass—but we probably got the words of the consecration close enough.” I was horrified. “So you are both priests,” I asked, “and you concelebrated that Mass?” “Yes.” “And did you take a stipend for it?” “Of course. Pourquoi pas?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Am I being fussy? Certainly there was no great sense of comradeship in Christ at such a concelebration. But even at the best of times, surely it is monstrous for every priest to take a stipend for one and the same Mass? Please send your comments to the Provost.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">—</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a></span></span></div>
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Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-89793670434868898982017-05-19T08:23:00.001-07:002017-08-09T06:38:24.629-07:00Repost: "I feel something within me that compels me to burn Rome."<a href="http://diaryofacityparishioner.blogspot.com/2006/06/it-has-been-asked-why.html">Original.</a> Links that no longer work have been removed.
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MONDAY, JUNE 05, 2006<br />
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“I feel something within me that compels me to burn Rome.”<br />
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It has been asked why “progressive” religious and laymen are often intolerant to those who disagree with them, while being very receptive to those who disagree with their Church.<br />
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A good, because tame, example is a recent speech given by Father Timothy Radcliffe, OP:<br />
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Saturday morning’s festivities started off with British priest Timothy Radcliffe, former master of the Dominicans, who gave a keynote address on “The Church as Sign of Hope and Freedom,” drawing on the congress theme, “Step Into Freedom” and the Gospel account of Jesus’ raising of Lazarus from the dead. Radcliffe delivered his speech before an audience of approximately 6,000 in the Anaheim Convention Center arena, with Cardinal Roger Mahony and congress organizer Sister Edith Prendergast seated on stage behind him.
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Radcliffe said society has “two models” for making moral decisions. “One is to think that it’s about choosing just what you feel like doing, and the other is a morality that’s about submission to the rules,” he said. “Think about sex. Often we think that sexual morality is really just doing what I feel like, it’s just a lifestyle option, what feels right for me. The other extreme is the people who think that it’s just a question of submitting to the external rules. But this Gospel summons us beyond those alternatives. . . . Christian morality is about obedience, but not obedience as an infantile submission. It’s about obedience in the original meaning of that word . . . about learning to hear the voice of the Lord. And what that voice says is, ‘stand up and be free.’
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“Holiness isn’t about obeying all the laws,” continued Radcliffe. “Holiness is about acting from the core of our being, where God is.”
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Saying he didn't “actually understand why,” Radcliffe noted that homosexuality has “become a very hot topic in all the churches at the moment. . . . Usually when we think about” homosexuality, Radcliffe said, “we ask, ‘what is forbidden or permitted?’ But I’m afraid I’m an old-fashioned, traditional Catholic, and I believe that’s the wrong place to start. We begin by standing beside gay people as they hear the voice of the Lord that summons them to life and happiness. We accompany them as they wrestle with discovering what this means and how they must walk. And this means letting our imaginations be stretched open to watching Brokeback Mountain, reading gay novels, having gay friends, making that leap of the heart and the mind, delighting in their being, listening with them as they listen to the Lord.”
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Noting “the violence of the language used by Pope Benedict when he was the cardinal prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith” and “the violent language of conservative Catholics against so-called liberals,” Radcliffe drew applause as he said, “we are not a sign of God’s freedom in Jesus until we can dare to belong with each other across every theological boundary. That means we have to see with other people’s eyes, and hear with their ears, and feel with their skin, regardless of whether they’re Legionnaires of Christ or militant feminists.”
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— Allyson Smith, “Step Into It: The 2006 L.A. Archdiocesan Religious Education Congress”, Los Angeles Lay Catholic Mission, June 2006</blockquote>
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In this speech, what the reporter heard was that there were two mistaken models for making moral decisions, but she only heard “submission to the rules” deplored. She heard about militant feminists, but the only violent language referred to was that of Cardinal Ratzinger and conservative Catholics. She heard about “standing beside gay people,” but she did not hear, “Neither do I condemn you. Go: from now on do not sin any more.” She heard “Be free,” but did not hear, “The truth will set you free. Amen, amen, I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave of sin.”<br />
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Since these religious and laymen have given up on truth, and deny that we sin, what are we to be free from? In a word, guilt; in a phrase, the White Man’s Burden and Depredations; culturally, the last five hundred years since the Reformation and the Counter-Reformation; psychiatrically, the superego; personally, one’s own heritage and upbringing; developmentally, the fear of becoming like one’s parents; biblically, Adam's sin; theologically, submission to the Father.<br />
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If, as some have written, we are at the end of an age, then for many the past will seem tyrannical, and freedom from the past the hope of a new age. And as for those stuck in the past, they shall be forced to be free. As Bishop Donald Trautman, Chairman of the U. S. Conference of Catholic Bishops Committee on the Liturgy said, <a href="https://adoremus.org/2006/05/15/bishops-to-vote-on-mass-translation/">“Liturgy belongs to the people of the Church here and now.”</a> And if not all the people agree — as how could they? — let there be a People’s Church like a People’s Republic.<br />
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One should acknowledge the strength of this feeling, and the numbers who feel it, and their sensitive response to the historical condition of the West. Nor condemn them, nor be the first to throw a stone.<br />
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But they sin, and they say, “We see,” so their sin remains. They say, “We hear,” so they do not hear. They say, “We know,” so they do not know. They sin by thinking not as God does, but as human beings do, and poorly. In doing this they are Satan. To say this is not to condemn them, as Jesus did not condemn Simon Peter.<br />
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One should also acknowledge their power in the Church, and that their power is waning. Do not argue with them, since they do not argue. Do not reason with them, since they do not reason. They are enemies of the Church: fight them for the Church and love them. Pray that they become friends of the Church, that we may love them as we love one another, and that all will know that we are his disciples.<br />
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<br />
Compare Caryl Johnston, The Virginity Monologues.<br />
<br />
For the title of this article, see Jacques Barzun, “The State of Culture Today,” in Garraty and Gay, eds., The Columbia History of the World, 1972, 1155.<br />
<br />
This article is listed in The Catholic Carnival is Here: Living the Faith in the blog Universal Call: Answer It!, quoted in The cafeteria is closed. . . . ., and mentioned by The Anchoress.<br />
<br />
For light on the American Catholic scene, see Donna Steichen, Can Reform Come? and Mrs. Steichen’s own report on the Los Angeles conference, A Church They Didn’t Expect.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "arial" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.14px; font-stretch: normal; letter-spacing: 0.1em; line-height: 1.4em; margin-right: 0.6em; text-transform: uppercase;">POSTED BY LEO WONG AT <a href="http://diaryofacityparishioner.blogspot.com/2006/06/it-has-been-asked-why.html" style="color: #996699; text-decoration-line: none;" title="permanent link">1:56 PM</a> [</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "arial" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.14px; letter-spacing: 0.2em; text-transform: uppercase;">MONDAY, JUNE 05, 2006 ]</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #999999; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "arial" , "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.14px; letter-spacing: 0.2em; text-transform: uppercase;"><br /></span>Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-40579462946660941862016-08-12T12:46:00.003-07:002021-11-13T06:18:33.358-08:00Ad clerum 77-3<b>26.</b> To the Clergy of Stamford Diocese.<br />
<br />
<i>Ad clerum</i> 77–3<br />
Monday, January 31st, 1977.<br />
<br />
Right Reverend, Very Reverend and Reverend Fathers,<br />
<br />
I apologize for bombarding you with circulars. Doubtless I started it but I am not solely responsible for its continuation.<br />
<br />
You received an anonymous and undated circular on Wednesday which purported to prove that I had no right to permit the Immemorial Mass in this diocese. This, you are well aware, is nonsense, as can be seen from the general law of the Church, article 22 of Constitution of November 1963, article 6 of the General Instruction to the New Ordo of 1969, etc. . . . and by common sense, all of which commit the liturgy to the pastoral care of the chief pastor, the bishop, so long as he is acting within the General Law of the Church.<br />
<br />
The circular, however, gives me the opportunity of going into the question of the licitness of the Immemorial Mass in some detail. It has all been said before by Professors Louis Salleron and Neri Capponi and by Father Bryan Houghton among others, but it is more likely that your attention has not been drawn to their publications and, if it has, you have not had time to read them. As you will see, I am attempting to do much more than answer the circular. I am trying to guide you through the labyrinth of documents in which the Mass has been lost, so that you will know how you stand in the event of my death.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>I. THE SITUATION BEFORE VATICAN II</b><br />
<br />
It should be remembered that until 1570 no Pope and no Council had ever legislated over the rite in which Mass was celebrated. The astonishing similarity between the rites in the Western Church arose from the fact that no bishop or priest dared to innovate in anything so sacred. If in doubt, they discovered what was the common practice in Rome. The attitude was notably different from that of some contemporary priests who seem to imagine that the Eucharist would be invalid if they failed to tinker with it. Actually, the only attempt to unify the rite came from civil, not ecclesiastical authority. After the conquest of Old Saxony, completed in A.D. 785, Charlemagne was faced with the problem of its evangelization. To facilitate and integrate the missioners’ work he instructed the Anglo-Saxon, Alcuin of York, to unify the rites current in the Empire.<br />
<br />
It was the Protestant reformers who first dared to touch the rite of the Sacred Mysteries. Eucharistic forms multiplied with the same rapidity that they do today. It was to restore order in the existing chaos that the Council of Trent called upon the Pope to establish the norm for the celebration of Mass. Hence the first Papal legislation on the subject, the Bull <i>Quo Primum</i> of St Pius V of July 19th, 1570. What did this Bull do?<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> It consolidated and codified (<i>statuimus et ordinamus</i> are the operative words) the Immemorial Roman Rite.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> It made its use compulsory throughout the Latin Church, except<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> when other rites had a continuous usage of over two hundred years, such as those of Sarum, Lyons, Toledo, Milan, the Dominicans, the Carthusians, etc.<br />
<br />
<b>4. </b> It granted a perpetual Indult to all priests under any circumstances to celebrate according to the Immemorial Roman Rite thus codified.<br />
<br />
It is to be observed, therefore, that the so-called “Tridentine Rite” does not exist by the positive law of one Pope which the next is at liberty to undo. It exists by immemorial custom to which the laity who attend have as much right as the clergy who celebrate it. Is it not possible that this point has been overlooked? Anyway, an immemorial right can be extinguished by two means:<br />
<br />
<b>a)</b> by a solemn pronouncement of the Sovereign Pontiff abrogating the customary right on the grounds that its continuance would be contrary to the common good;<br />
<br />
<b>b)</b> by the customary right falling into desuetude—along with the custom the right lapses.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, what is of positive law in the Bull <i>Quo Primum</i> is the exclusivity granted to the Immemorial Roman Rite, apart from rites over two hundred years old. This exclusivity can clearly be modified by a succeeding Pope without any appeal to “reasonableness” and “the common good.”<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>II. THE COUNCIL</b><br />
Such was the position on which we were all agreed, Pope, bishops, priests, and laity, up to and including the Council.<br />
<br />
In November 1963 the Council promulgated its Constitution on the liturgy, <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i>. It should be noted that this document is a Constitution, the most solemn form of legislation of which a Council is capable. What does it do? Does it abrogate (=abolish), obrogate (=substitute) or derogate (=make exceptions to) previous legislation and notably the Bull <i>Quo Primum</i>? Not a bit of it; it takes it all for granted. It merely speaks of <i>instauratio</i>. The Latin <i>instaurare</i> does not mean to restore in the sense of restoring a ruined building. It means to restore in the way we restore our tissues in a restaurant. In fact it means to refresh. Even the refreshment was to be pretty abstemious as we learn from article 36: “The use of the Latin language shall be maintained (servetur) in the Latin rites.” Article 54 allows for the local dialects “above all for the lessons and community prayers . . . also in the responses of the people.” In fact a vernacular dialogued Mass was permitted although not made compulsory. Please re-read <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i> without hindsight: what it says, not what it has been made to say.<br />
<br />
So far we have two laws, both duly promulgated in the most solemn form of which the Church is capable:<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> A Papal Constitution, the Bull <i>Quo Primum</i> of 1570;<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> A Conciliar Constitution, <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i> of 1963. The second confirms the first, merely permitting certain specific derogations in the matter of language by its article 54.<br />
<br />
<b><br />III. THE SEQUENCE</b><br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> Two months later, on January 25th, 1964, Pope Paul VI issued a <i>motu proprio</i> called <i>Sacrum Liturgiam</i>. A <i>motu proprio</i> is a binding Papal document, be it legislative, judicial or administrative. What passes belief is that this is the only one on the liturgy which the pope has issued to date, that is in thirteen years. This unique document fixes the parts of the Mass to be said in the native dialect as recommended by article 54 of <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i>: the introductory psalm, epistle and gospel, etc. Unfortunately, it also announced the creation of a special Consilium (with an ‘s’ in the middle, consequently an advisory body) to put into effect the Council’s recommendations. This was duly established on February 29th under the chairmanship of Cardinal Lercaro.<br />
<b><br />2</b>. It took a little time for the Consilium to warm to its work and its first publication, the Institution <i>Inter Oecumenici</i> of September 26th, 1964, could, with a pit of pushing and pulling, be fitted into the Council’s Constitution. It permitted (but did not enjoin) the whole of the Mass apart from the Preface and Canon to be said in the vernacular. It reintroduced the bidding-prayers, which the Council had never demanded. It also delegated liturgical powers to bishops.<br />
<br />
It was from this moment onwards that serious opposition began to be felt. For instance, I think the Latin Mass Society was founded early in 1965. Several perfectly reasonable priests rang the alarm. Myself, being neither a theologian nor a Canon Lawyer but a clerical accountant, thought <i>Inter Oecumenici</i> unwise but not impossible. I became your bishop.<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> Owing perhaps to the opposition, the Consilium remained reasonably inactive for nearly three years. Then, on May 4th, 1967, it produced its <i>Tres Abhinc Annos</i>, better known as the <i>Instructio Altera</i>. This, my dear Fathers, was the revolution. Permission was granted for the whole Mass, including the Canon and the Consecration, to be said aloud and in the vernacular. This is clean contrary to paragraphs 1 and 2 of article 36 of <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i>. It was, of course, a derogation from the law, a pure permission, but we were all made to realize that laws were no longer meant to be obeyed whereas permissions were obligatory.<br />
<br />
What is the legal value of such an Instruction? It is not easy to determine. The Consilium, as its name implied, was a counselling body. It should therefore have induced either the Pope to issue a <i>motu proprio</i> or the Ministry concerned, the Congregation of Rites, to send out a Notification. It did neither but issued its own Instruction. Whatever its value, one thing is quite certain: it cannot derogate from any existing law, in the particular case from the Pope’s <i>motu proprio</i> of January 25th, 1964 and from the Council’s Constitution. It was a try-on.<br />
<br />
The trouble is that it worked. Neither the Pope nor the episcopate questioned the <i>Instructio Altera</i>. From that moment onwards the progressive bureaucracy knew that it was master. The bishops, from Rome to Stamford, had abdicated.<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> The extent of the abdication became almost immediately evident. In October of the same year, 1967, the Consilium produced its <i>Missa Normativa</i> at the Synod of Bishops. It was rejected by 104 votes to 72. What did that matter? It has become law as the New Ordo.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>IV. THE NEW ORDO</b><br />
<b>A. THE CONSTITUTION </b><i><b>MISSALE ROMANUM</b></i><br />
This has the most puzzling history of all. May I remind you, Fathers, that we already have two documents of the highest conceivable authority: the Bull <i>Quo Primum</i> and the Constitution <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i>, which are, moreover, in line with each other. What happens next?<br />
<br />
On April 3rd, 1969, a Papal Constitution entitled <i>Missale Romanum</i> was promulgated purporting to be the law governing the New Order of Mass, as yet unpublished. In this original version it is not a law at all but an explanatory introduction to a permission. Even the word <i>Constitutio</i> is nowhere to be found in the text, merely in the title. There is no abrogation of previous legislation and no clause ordering the use of the new rite. There is no sentence to show that it is obligatory, let alone exclusive. There is no dating clause to show when it should come into effect.<br />
<br />
<a name="mistranslation"></a>
This, of course, did not prevent the powers that be from saying that it was a binding law. To do so they had recourse to a mistranslation. What is so curious is that this mistranslation was common to all languages. I have read it myself in English, French and Italian; I am told that it is the same in German and Spanish. How can this possibly come about? How can all these expert translators make the identical howler? Your guess is as good as mine.<br />
<br />
Here is the sentence, the fourth before the end of the original version, the fifth in the <i>Acta</i>:<br />
<br />
Ad extremum, ex iis quae hactenus de novo Missali Romano exposuimus quiddam nunc <i>cogere et efficere</i> placet. . . .<br />
<br />
I have underlined the mistranslated words. <i>Cogere et efficere</i> is a well-known Ciceronian phrase to be found in most dictionaries. Even if the translators could not be bothered to look it up, it is perfectly clear that <i>quiddam cogere</i> breaks down into <i>agere quiddam con</i> = to work something together, which is in the context “to sum up.” Equally, <i>quiddam efficere</i> breaks down into <i>facere quiddam ex</i> = to make something out, which is in the context “to draw a conclusion.” The sentence therefore means: “Lastly, from what we have so far declared concerning the New Roman Missal, we should now like to sum up and draw a conclusion.” And what did all the translators make of it? “In conclusion, We now wish to give the force of law to all We have declared . . .”; and in French, Pour terminer, Nous voulons donner force de loi à tout ce que Nous avons exposé . . .” and in Italian, etc. . . . It is strange my dear Fathers, but such is the truth: “to sum up and draw a conclusion” becomes “to give the force of law.”<br />
<br />
And what did I do about it? Absolutely nothing for the simple reason that I did not bother to read the Latin until two or three years later. Do not judge me too severely. Have you read it?<br />
<br />
But that is not the end. Worse is to come. The Acta for June 1969 were published as usual about two months later. When it appeared a brand new clause had been inserted into the original document as the penultimate paragraph. It reads: “<i>Quae Constitutione hac Nostra praescripsimus vigere incipient a XXX proximi mensis Novembris hoc anno, id est a Dominica 1 Adventus</i>.” That is: “What We have ordered by this Our Constitution will begin to take effect as from November 30th of this year (1969), that is the First Sunday of Advent.” You will notice that for the first and only time the word <i>Constitutio</i> appears in the text, For the first time, too, a word signifying “to order” is introduced—<i>praescripsimus</i>. For the first time a date is given on which the order is to become effective. Thus is a permission turned into a law.<br />
<br />
Actually, there are a couple of snags even about this insertion. The word <i>praescripsimus</i>—We have ordered—is not the proper term in Latin, but I shall not bother you with such refinements. More important, it is in the wrong tense. Up to this point the legislator has prescribed nothing at all. It is precisely in this clause that he claims to do so. The verb, therefore, should be in the present tense, <i>praescribimus</i>—“what We are ordering by this our Constitution”: not in the perfect, “what We have prescribed.” The only explanation I can think of for this howler is recognition by its author that he is tampering with a pre-existing text. Moreover, the logical conclusion from the use of the wrong tense can scarcely be what is author intended: since nothing was prescribed, nothing is prescribed; and the legislator, to boot, is still prescribing nothing. What a mess! I wonder how long a civil government would last which thus tampered with its own laws?<br />
<br />
There is a last remark I wish to make about this strange document. It winds up with the usual <i>clause de style</i>: “We wish, moreover, that these decisions and ordinances of ours should be stable and effective now and in future, notwithstanding—in so far as may be necessary—Constitutions and Apostolic Regulations published by Our Predecessors and all other ordinances, even those requiring special mention and derogation." At long last—indeed it is the last word—there is a technical term in the Constitution, so we know exactly where we stand: “derogation.” The New Ordo is therefore only a permission after all. It is merely a licit exception, a derogation, to the previous laws which are still in force. They have not been abrogated. But surely it is only a mistake? The author of the praescripsimus clause forgot to alter the <i>clause de style</i>? Maybe, but it proves three things: 1. one’s sins always finds one out; 2. the author has a highly efficient Guardian Angel; 3. it is nonsense to claim that the Bull <i>Quo Primum</i> has been abrogated.<br />
<br />
Mistranslation, insertion, error: it is all highly distasteful. Needless to say there has been no apology, explanation or withdrawal. It is those who point out these irregularities who are accused of being disloyal and divisive.<br />
<br />
Do these irregularities invalidate the Constitution? Of course not; it is a valid law in the terms published in the <i>Acta</i>. At most it could be maintained that the wrong tense of praescripsimus makes its meaning doubtful and <i>lex dubia non obligat</i>—but it does not much matter as it is only a permission anyway. No, the irregularities do not invalidate the law. All they do is to make me highly suspicious of the present administration.<br />
<br />
To sum up:<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> The Constitution <i>Missale Romanum</i> of April 3rd, 1969 has been duly promulgated. That is why I permit the use of the New Ordo in this diocese.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> It has derogated from the exclusive use of the Immemorial Mass but has not abrogated the Bull Quo Primum. That is why I permit the use of the Tridentine Rite.<br />
<br />
<b> 3.</b> It has not abrogated the Conciliar Constitution <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i>. That is why I permit: a) the “hybrid” Mass; b) the reintroduction of the Offertory etc., into the New Ordo—since these are in line with the said Constitution.<br />
<br />
<b>B. THE <i>INSTITUTIO GENERALIS</i> AND THE NEW PRECES</b><br />
<b>1.</b> One of the reasons why the all-important Constitution received such scant attention was that on April 6th (consequently two months before its publication in the <i>Acta</i>) the New Mass forms were released, preceded by a theological-rubrical introduction called the <i>Institutio Generalis</i>. I am ashamed to say that it was received with unctuous enthusiasm by us bishops, although the Mass rites were practically identical with what our synod had rejected in October 1967. You priests were marginally better; you received it with glum gloom but little protest. Opposition was left to the laity. It became highly vociferous and found expression in the Critical Study presented by Cardinals Ottaviani and Bacci to the Pope on September 25th of the same year. If you have kept a copy of the Critical Study, please re-read it. You will notice that it does not merely criticize the theology of the introduction but the Mass rites which give expression to that theology.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> This opposition did in fact have some effect. On October 20th, less than a month after the Critical Study had been presented to the Pope, the Consilium issued a Instruction, Constitutione Apostolica, delaying the introduction of the New Ordo from November 30th, 1969 to November 28th, 1971, nominally to give time to prepare vernacular translations. In the meantime the New Ordo could be said in Latin. On the other hand, in this document also we hear for the first time that the Immemorial Mass may only be said by aged priests sine populo, without a congregation. This is pure usurpation of power and has no basis in law.<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> On the following March 26th, 1970, a new edition of the Institutional Generalis was issued. The heretical clause 7—“The Mass is the sacred synaxis or congregation of the People of God”—was made merely ambiguous and clauses 48, 55, 56 and 60 were amended. So much for the permanent value of the most solemn Roman documents under the present administration. Not only is there tampering with the basic law governing the New Ordo, but its theological justification has to be amended within a year of publication. This certainly calls for blind obedience since it is difficult to obey with eyes open. What remains quite inexplicable, however, is that the Mass forms themselves have not been changed. Their theological justification has gone; they are unaltered.<br />
<br />
Incidentally, it is in the same year, the year of opposition, that the English Martyrs were canonized and Cardinal Heenan of blessed memory secured his Indult.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>V. THE NEW ORDO IN OPERATION</b><br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> As I have said, the opposition was almost exclusively lay. The powers that be could not deal with it as summarily as they could with the clergy. There was over a year of patient waiting to see if the laity could organize themselves. It became clear that with an inadequate supply of priests and no bishop they could not. Hence we got the second revolutionary document. You will remember that the first was the <i>Instructio Altera</i> of May 4th, 1967, which decided, contrary to the law, that the whole of the Mass, including the consecration, should be said aloud and in the vernacular. Well, this time it is a bit worse. On June 14th, 1971, the Congregation for Worship issued a Notification granting to Episcopal Conferences the right to impose the exclusive use of the vernacular in the New Ordo, once the translations had been approved. It thus became illicit to celebrate the New Ordo in Latin. So much for the Constitution <i>Sacrosanctum Concilium</i>. It also repeated the provision in the instruction of October 20th, 1969 that the Old Mass could only be said by aged priests <i>sine populo</i>.<br />
<br />
Be it noted that a Notification is a purely administrative document and has no legislative authority whatsoever. Moreover, this particular one was itself undated and unsigned. It is therefore worth less than the paper on which it was printed. The bishops, from Rome to Stamford, remained mute.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> Of course, the inevitable result of this particular piece of administrative folly was to throw all Latinists into the arms of the Tridentiners. There was no alternative if the New Ordo was illicit in Latin. It became imperative to divide the opposition, especially as Archbishop Lefebvre had cropped up in the meantime. The laity had thus found a bishop with the promise of future priests. Hence the Notification of October 28th, 1974. This document reverses the previous ruling: the New Ordo may now be said in Latin or vernacular with equality of esteem. The New Ordo, however, is obligatory “notwithstanding the pretext of any custom whatsoever even immemorial”. The importance of this last remark is that for the first time the establishment admitted the existence of immemorial rights, even if only to brush them aside.<br />
<br />
<b> 3.</b> From this moment onwards the assault against the old rite slightly changed tack. At the beginning of this <i>Ad clerum</i> I wrote: “An immemorial right can be extinguished by two means:<br />
<br />
<b>a)</b> by a solemn pronouncement of the Sovereign Pontiff abrogating the customary right on the grounds that its continuance would be contrary to the common good;<br />
<br />
<b>b)</b> by the customary right falling into desuetude—along with the custom the right lapses."<br />
<br />
It would not be easy to prove that the Immemorial Mass had been contrary to the common good. Who would believe it? Moreover, by 1974 it was a bit late to start saying so, especially as the Council had said nothing of the sort. The alternative was to crush the custom as rapidly as possible, preferably under the existing administration.<br />
<br />
This explains the extraordinary animosity against Archbishop Lefebvre: he is busy perpetuating the immemorial custom. It also explains the astonishing pressure brought to bear on the English hierarchy to petition for the withdrawal of Heenan’s Indult. In its humble way, the Indult too is preserving the custom. I may add that, if it still exists, it is thanks to Heenan’s successor.<br />
<br />
<b>4.</b> Great tragedies are heightened by farcical interludes. Four days after the Notification of October 28th, on November 1st, 1974 the Congregation promulgated its two little Eucharists for Reconciliations and three for kiddies.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>VI. PAPAL INTERVENTION</b><br />
<br />
You may well ask, in this plethora of Constitutions, Institutions, Instructions and Notifications, has the Pope done or said nothing? The two questions are rather different. What he has done is restricted to: a) the <i>motu proprio</i>, <i>Sacram Liturgiam</i>, of January 25th, 1964, which in practice was rendered nugatory by the Consilium’s <i>Instructio Altera</i>; b) the Constitution, <i>Missale Romanum</i>, of April 3rd, 1969, presumably along with the clause inserted into the <i>Acta</i>. What he has said is a very different matter. In 1969, there is the Allocution of April 28th, of November 19th, and again of November 26th. As the years roll by, so do the Allocutions. However, they are all summed up in the Consistorial Allocutions of May 24th, 1976, to which the anonymous Canon Lawyer refers. It is a little more harsh than the rest because it was directed against Archbishop Lefebvre. I translate the relevant passage.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
It is in the name of tradition itself that We require all our sons and all Catholic communities to celebrate the liturgy according to the renewed rite with dignity and fervour. The use of the New Ordo is by no means left to the discretion of priests and faithful. The Instruction of June 14th, 1971, has provided that the celebration of Mass according to the Old Rite should only be allowed, with the permission of the Ordinary, to aged and sick priests when celebrating with nobody present. The New Ordo has been promulgated to replace the Old after mature deliberation and in order to fulfill the Council’s decisions. It is in exactly the same way that Our predecessor St. Pius V made obligatory the Missal recognized by his authority after the Council of Trent. By the same supreme authority, which We have received from Christ, We decree the same prompt obedience to all the other reforms, be they liturgical, disciplinary or pastoral, which in recent years have grown up out of the decrees of the Council.</blockquote>
And what is one to say to that?<br />
<br />
Well, in the first place the translators have been at it again. In the passage concerning Pius V, the Latin has: “. . . St. Pius V made obligatory the Missal recognized (<i>recognitum</i>) by his authority” —which is perfectly correct; whereas the Italian has “. . . reformed (<i>riformato</i>) by his authority”—which is perfectly incorrect but suits the argument better. The whole point is that Pius V reformed nothing at all: he codified the Immemorial Rite; whereas a little later in the same passage Paul VI admits that “the New Ordo has been promulgated to replace the Old.” So the New Ordo is not even a reform but a “replacement” or substitution—for which the technical term is obrogation. But not even a Pope can obrogate an immemorial custom—unless there are two or more immemorial customs running concurrently and one is substituted for the other. A new usage cannot obrogate an immemorial custom unless the latter is first abrogated, abolished; only then can the new usage fill the void. Therein, I think lies the real importance of the text: the admission that the New Ordo is not a reform of the Mass but a substitute for the Mass. Anyway, the statement is nonsense: Pius V did not make the old Ordo exclusive since he allowed all rites over two hundred years old to continue. Neither has Paul VI made the New exclusive since only eighteen months previously he had permitted the rites for Reconciliations and kiddies.<br />
<br />
I suppose I should mention briefly a few other points. A Consistorial Allocution is a speech. It is not a law. In the present case it illustrates Paul VI’s deep affection for the New Ordo. This is perfectly natural: most parents believe that they beget nothing but swans. More significant is that His Holiness should make no appeal to the only laws on the subject to which have been duly promulgated: his own Constitution of 1969 and the Council’s of 1963. Concerning the latter he uses a euphemism: “the reforms . . . which in recent years have grown up out of the decrees of the Council.” But one has has every right to question a “growth” which, in his own words, is a “substitution.” His Holiness is therefore led to appeal to what he calls the “Instruction” of June 14th, 1971. This is most unfortunate. As we have seen, the document issued on that date was a mere Notification, itself undated and unsigned. Its legal value is nil. It does, however, contain the gratuitously cruel clause that aged and infirm priests may (with permission, of course) say the immemorial Mass provided nobody is present. This His Holiness does not blush to repeat. Lastly, the emotional appeal of the passage consists in calling upon the faithful to discard the tradition of worship in the name of the tradition of obedience. Does His Holiness not realize that the tradition of obedience is even more delicate than that of worship? He complains bitterly that he is no longer obeyed. No wonder: tradition as such having been undermined, the tradition of obedience has vanished. It is all terribly sad.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>VII. THE PROOF OF PUDDING</b><br />
<br />
At this point, Fathers, I can well imagine you saying: “The old Bishop naturally makes out a good case in his own cause. But how can I tell that his opponents could not do as much? I certainly have no time to verify the documents he mentions, let alone the ones he does not. It is beyond me. I shall just obey, even if I am called a weathercock.”<br />
<br />
Well, I think you can judge the truth of my contention from the least expected of sources: the Lefebvre affair.<br />
<br />
Everyone knows that the real trouble with Archbishop Lefebvre is that he sticks to the Immemorial Mass and is training priests to do the like. Agreed? Of course.<br />
<br />
Then, why is it that he was not suspended for that? Wasn’t he? No, he was not.<br />
<br />
A devious way was found. He is not a diocesan bishop and consequently has no title, no right, to ordain priests. To get round this difficulty he founded the Priestly Fraternity of St. Pius X as a diocesan congregation in the diocese of Fribourg. Thus, as bishop-superior of his congregation he could ordain his own subjects. Rome then suppressed his congregation (legally or illegally is beside the point), so that he no longer had the right to ordain. He did ordain. He was suspended.<br />
<br />
You see the point? It is precisely because Archbishop Lefebvre could not be suspended for saying the Immemorial Mass that a devious means had to be employed. The Establishment is determined to crush the Old Mass: it cannot do it straight so it will do it crooked.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>VIII. TO SUM UP AND CONCLUDE</b><br />
<i>Nunc quiddam cogere et efficere placet.</i><br />
<br />
<b>A.</b> The summing up.<br />
<br />
<b>1.</b> You will have noticed that in all the documents I have quoted it is taken for granted that the Mass is the private property of priests. It is not. The priest is the executor of the Testament of God Incarnate but the faithful are just as much beneficiaries under the will as he. It is they, the faithful, who have the right to the Immemorial Mass. They can demand that the legacy be paid in a currency which has held its value from time immemorial. They are aware that we live in an age of inflation and bright new notes are soon devalued.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> The Immemorial Mass has not been abrogated—even if it could be. Its use is therefore licit as well as valid.<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> The attack against it is devious: to suppress the custom thanks to the abject conformism of bishops and the servile obedience of priests.<br />
<br />
<b>B.</b> Conclusion<br />
<br />
<b>1. </b>What I ask of you is to maintain the custom of the Immemorial Mass. You need not say it exclusively so long as you say it sometimes—always mindful, however, that the faithful have a right to it.<br />
<br />
<b>2.</b> This would not require much heroism but a little organization might help. The diocese would be unmanageable if about twenty priests were excluded from the ministry. If rather more, say thirty priests, were willing to join a Secular Institute of which one of the objects were the maintenance of the Immemorial Rite, nothing much could be done against you.<br />
<br />
<b>3.</b> Our Administrator, Mgr Defew, has accepted to found such an Institute. I cannot sufficiently express my gratitude to him. I enclose a form which you will kindly return to him if you are willing to join the Institute.<br />
<br />
<b> 4. </b>If fewer than thirty diocesan priests have joined the Institute by April 1st, the project will be abandoned and I shall rely on the courage and integrity of individual priests to preserve the custom of the Mass of Ages.<br />
<br />
I have written this <i>Ad clerum</i> on Wednesday and Thursday, January 26/7th. I shall not post it, however, until I have decided whether or not to reopen the diocesan seminary. If I find this practical it is clear that the Institute will be heavily reinforced.<br />
<br />
P.S. Monday, January 31st. I have decided to reopen the diocesan seminary. The Rector will be Mgr Charles Bouverie, ex-Vice-Rector of the English College. The five existing students are willing to attend it. Mgr Bouverie and I have accepted five applicants for the Summer Term and a further six for September. The new students understand that their acceptance for the diocese is conditional on their joining Mgr Defew’s Secular Institute.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>The only other substantial letter written by Bishop Forester during the week was that to the Mother Provincial of the Veronican sisters in connection with the Sludge affair on Friday, January 28th. It has already appeared as Letter 14.</i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
<br />
<span class="_Tgc">—</span> Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 87<span class="_Tgc">–</span>102.<br />
<br />
<br />Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-52890064708765312242016-07-24T12:53:00.001-07:002016-08-12T14:27:52.093-07:00How a Pious Jew Entered the Church, and What He FoundI was a practicing, pious Jew, with all the fervour of which a young man is capable. I loved the Law and clung to it as the vine to the fig tree. Yet I was assailed by a terrible doubt: we, the Chosen People, seemed pathetically faithful to the Covenant; it was God who seemed faithless. Away with the thought: His faithfulness endures forever! Yes, that was the basis of all my piety: God’s faithfulness endures, whatever the human appearances. Then one day, suddenly like lightning on Lebanon, it struck me (not as ideas strike but as lightning strikes) that if the Covenant had been voided it was because God in His faithfulness had Himself filled the void. If the Sacrifice of the Covenant had been abolished it could only be because God in His faithfulness had sacrificed Himself. In a flash, as a Jew, I found myself a Catholic. I am a convert to the Sacrificial Presence of God Incarnate in the Mass.<br />
<br />
I was in the Midlands at the time, working in a small factory which belonged to an uncle. I knew no Catholic priest. I called round at the presbytery and took pot luck. The priest who instructed me was an astonishing fellow, although I did not recognize it at the time. I thought all priests were as like peas in a pod. He disapproved of the mass media, took no paper and possessed neither radio or television. Although a man of immense culture, he paid not the slightest attention to what was going on around him. His instructions were magnificent. I was duly received into the Church on December 8th, 1963. I stayed on in the Midlands until the New Year. It was a month in heaven.<br />
<br />
But could I tell my family? How could I bring shame and sorrow on my dear father’s head? I decided to change my name and lose myself in London where nobody knew me. I chose the name ‘Glauben’ partly because it sounds Jewish and I am proud to be a Jew, partly because it is the German for faith. Thus I arrived in London, penniless and nameless but with the Faith.<br />
<br />
It did not take me more than a month in London to discover that I had not been received but deceived into the Church. The God of my Midland priest have been the God of Israel, totally transcendent, totally “other.” The Covenant was, is and ever shall be the Incarnation. The Incarnation was consummated on the Cross, is consummated at Mass and ever shall be “the Lamb to whom all saving power belongs.” All this I could understand. It is the apotheosis of Jewry.<br />
<br />
And what did I find in London? I found an idolatry worse than that of Baal or Moloch, which were at least “other” than man; a faithlessness worse than atheism, which at least knows what it denies. I found the Catholic Church rotten with the nadir of idolatry and the zenith of blasphemy: religious humanism, the identification of God with man. No transcendent God, no Covenant, no Incarnation, no Mass. And they talk about ecumenism, when even a totem-worshipper would not accept such faithlessness.<br />
<br />
I had rejected the Synagogue one month; the next I was rejected by the Church. I did not lose my faith. We Jews are used to exile. I simply hung up my harp, as it were, by the waters of Babylon.<br />
<br />
<span class="_Tgc">— from Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 67–68.</span><br />
<span class="_Tgc"><br /></span>
<span class="_Tgc"><br /></span>Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-72687944699616124162016-07-23T18:30:00.001-07:002016-08-12T14:28:21.855-07:00Does Your Priest Pray? Bishop Forester on the Great Lacuna<b>18.</b> To Monsignor Charles Bouverie, D.D.<br />
St. Vitus’ Mental Home, Epsom,<br />
Friday, January 21st, 1977.<br />
<br />
Dear Monsignor,<br />
<br />
I have followed your career with deep admiration: Vice-rector of the English College; Rector of the Diocesan Orphanage; Parish Priest of Thistleford (a dump I know well, as I was once P. P. of Grumby not twenty miles away); chaplain to the Sisters at Hogsholt; and now assistant chaplain at a lunatic asylum. Everyone knows why. There is no more honourable career in the Universal Church.<br />
<br />
I also wish to express my profound admiration for the three publications of yours which I have read. Your book entitled <i>Four Abbots</i> on Chautard, Marmion, Chapman and Vonier is admirable. Your two long essays on “The Direct Perception of God” and “The Mechanism of Prayer” are splendid. You are the man I want.<br />
<br />
I enclose an <i>Ad clerum</i> which I issued a week ago. You may have seen reports of it in the papers. Now, it seems to me inevitable that I shall have to re-open the diocesan seminary. I only have five senior students at the moment but, even now in the first week, I have over thirty applicants of varying ages and backgrounds: ten ex-seminarians, fifteen new vocations between 17 and 21, eight between 23 and 55. On paper twelve seem admirable and only three more than doubtful. I need two things: firstly, expert opinion in interviewing these men; secondly, if a reasonable number of them—say six or more—seem suitable, a Rector for my seminary. Are you interested? Incidentally, I have given no appointments for interview before the weekend of January 29/30th, so that you may be present to advise me if you so wish.<br />
<br />
I shall also want to discuss with you the curriculum. The old system had enormous merits and I am deeply grateful for what I received at my seminary. Nevertheless it is abundantly clear that the system has FAILED—yes, in capitals. Every bishop, every priest had been through a seminary course. Every bishop, every priest came away convinced that he had the answer to every question. It only required that this be dubbed “triumphalism” and to suggest that questions are meant to be asked, not answered, for every bishop and every priest to be left dumbfounded. We lacked the techniques to question the questions and still tried to give answers which nobody wanted. Moreover, our certitudes were closely bound to a given set of symbols. Change the well-defined Latin term for an undefined Greek one and every bishop and every priest found himself at a loss. We knew the catechism by heart; mention <i>catechesis</i> and we are no longer sure who made us and why. We could manage a dogmatic sermon all right but just listen to our homilies! We were absolutely firm about confession and contrition; all our firmness vanished at the one word <i>metanoia</i>. We knew exactly what the Mass was; the Eucharist is hazy. Even the Consecration and the Real Presence have been engulfed in the mist of <i>anamnesis</i>. All this is patently true, is undeniable. We had received a solid theological training in our seminaries. It did not stand the test. It collapsed overnight without leaving track or trace. It requires explanation.<br />
<br />
I am not saying that the seminaries were to blame for the collapse. This would be quite untrue; there are other causes. What I am saying is that there must have been some lacuna in the system which rendered the whole edifice vulnerable. That it lay in the seminaries is certain, since they provided the only ground common to every priest and every bishop. What was it?<br />
<br />
It is quite clear that we all believed in the Trinity; in the Incarnation, Resurrection and Ascension of Our Lord; in the Seven Sacraments working <i>ex opere operato</i>; in the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption and so on. Yes, we all believed in them but apparently in a disembodied sort of way, as abstract propositions not as immediate realities. An abstract proposition can be more or less true according to the available data; realities cannot be changed because they are the data. Unless I am talking complete nonsense, the problem thus becomes: how is it that our seminaries failed to translate the abstract propositions of the Faith into an immediate reality? Worse still: how is it that students who arrived with the realities of their catechism soon found them evaporated into abstract propositions?<br />
<br />
I think there is an explanation. The translation of an abstract proposition into the reality of Faith comes about on the divine side by grace but in the human response by one means only: prayer. As far as I know, there was not a seminary in the world which included in its curriculum a course on prayer: its physics, metaphysics and theology. Spiffs by spiritual directors and petty devotions are no substitute. To my mind, the first year at a senior seminary should be devoted almost exclusively to the philosophy, theology and practice of prayer. Incidentally, when I say “practice” I do not mean that they should be made to pray, because it cannot be done, but that they should be acquainted with how it has been done from the lapidary sentences of the Desert Fathers, through the great mystics, medieval and otherwise, down to your Four Abbots. Also, I say “almost exclusively” because a little history and general culture would relieve the tension. That is why I want you. It is clear from your publications that you have the ideas and ideals which seem to me necessary. And my opinion of your publications was not belied on the couple of occasions when I had the pleasure of meeting you.<br />
<br />
Incidentally, I have not the slightest doubt but that prayer is the fundamental lacuna in the clergy today. One only has to look at Vatican II. There were a couple of thousand bishops, all honorable men, discussing pastoral problems. The only subject which failed to get a mention was the one that concerned their flock: prayer. Why? Because it never crossed their minds; it is the great lacuna. Later the New Ordo was produced: it is a function designed for participation but not for prayer. One can function it all right, but precisely in the measure that it is functional it is unprayable. That is the trouble: for many years now the seminaries having been churning out functionaries, ecclesiastical civil servants, instead of men of prayer, priests of God.<br />
<br />
There are also several purely pedagogic problems which I want to discuss with you. Do you know that I went through my whole seminary course without having seriously to put pen to paper? Just end-of-term examinations as a test of memory, that was all. I consequently never had to to think but merely remember. And I wonder how many priests have actually read a single work by one of the Fathers or Doctors of the Church? Now that they no longer say the breviary, their ignorance in that direction must be simply appalling.<br />
<br />
Yes, I want to revive the diocesan seminary. I want our perennial philosophy and theology to be taught therein. I also want the lacunae to be filled.<br />
<br />
Please come to see me as soon as you conveniently can. Please accept the Rectorship as I feel sure that we shall agree on the curriculum.<br />
<br />
<span class="_Tgc">— Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html">Mitre and Crook</a>, 1979, pp. 60–63.</span><br />
<span class="_Tgc"><br /></span>
<span class="_Tgc"><br /></span>Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-72545418405739658312016-07-21T05:43:00.001-07:002018-10-01T07:06:12.211-07:00Bishop Forester on Loyalty Upwards and Downwards<b>7.</b> To George Weir, Archbishop of Derby.<br />
Thursday, January 20th, 1977.<br />
<br />
Dear George,<br />
<br />
Your letter caused me no surprise. You pride yourself on being the rudest member of the hierarchy. It is a claim in which you rarely fail. You accuse me of holding the New Ordo to be invalid—which I don’t; of undermining the authority of the episcopate—which I am trying to restore; of being disloyal to Pope, Council, you, my colleagues, and all and sundry—which needs examining; of using the Mass as a banner for revolt—which is nonsense, etc. . . . It is a fairly formidable indictment, isn’t it, even for you?<br />
<br />
However, I am interested in your accusation of disloyalty. I know exactly what you mean but I happen to see things exactly in reverse. The trouble is that people always think of loyalty as being due to themselves. You automatically think of loyalty working upwards. This is natural as you spring from a well-to-do family, employers in business and with staff in your home. I, on the other hand, came from an eminently respectable but very poor background—hewers of wood in Roding Forest. I, consequently, think of loyalty as working downwards. I don’t say that the Squire wasn’t tough—he was—but we knew he would see us through: he was loyal to us humble folk. Incidentally, it was he, not the diocese, who paid for my seminary—although he was a Black Protestant and always called us “my bloody Papists with too many blasted brats.” As for Her Ladyship, she was a deal sight better than Social Security—but I must not bore you with reminiscences. You see the point? You blame me for not being loyal to my superiors. It has never crossed my mind: they are perfectly capable of defending themselves and even breaking me if they so wish—and they doubtless will if I appear to succeed. I, on the other hand, accuse you of being disloyal to your inferiors, your flock. It has never crossed your mind, although they are totally defenceless against you. And your disloyalty, George, is quite irreparable: thanks to it countless of souls are seared in this life and may be lost in the next. My disloyalty to you can do little more than melt your collar—if, in fact, I am disloyal.<br />
<br />
Disloyalty to the Pope is a more serious consideration. Although I have been a bishop for practically twelve years, I have only seen him thrice and then in a gaggle with other bishops. He did not impress me as being a particularly congenial type: intelligent enough, but weak and consequently devious. He knows his mind all right, but he struck me as the sort of fellow who would get his way by hook or crook because he is incapable of getting it straight. But that is scarcely the point, is it? We are not talking about the Pope as a person but about the divine institution of the Papacy. It is abundantly clear that loyalty to the divine institution is quite distinct from loyalty to its temporary incumbent. Indeed, the two can run clean contrary to each other as history illustrates on almost every page from St Paul onwards. My favorite example is the Blessed Colomba of Rieti. You certainly do not know the story since your reading is confined to watching television. (You see, I can be as rude as you if I like.)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="Colomba"></a>
Anyway, Colomba was a Dominican nun who lived in Perugia. She suffered from almost every type of mystical phenomenon—ecstasy, inedia, levitation and the rest. The Master of the Dominicans felt uncertain whether her spirit was from God or from the Devil. This was about 1490, when people still believed in both. In consequence he would have the girl examined by the Holy Father himself who was on a visit to his favourite son, Cesare. This was duly arranged. In the great hall at Perugia, which you have doubtless visited, there sat enthroned the Sovereign Pontiff, Alexander VI, with Cesare on his right, Lucrezia on his left and the Papal Court around. Colomba was introduced. Upon sight of the Vicar of Christ she immediately went into ecstasy, as should all good nuns. I seem to remember that she levitated and railed at the Pope from somewhere near the ceiling. “You who are the Vicar of Christ and act as the vicar of Satan! You who hold the Keys of the Kingdom but only unlock the doors of brothels! You who are captain of the Ark of Salvation and have a girl in every port! You who. . . .” After twenty minutes of this sort of stuff, the Papal Court felt rather anxious for poor Colomba’s safety. How do you get girls out of ecstasy? However, Alexander Borgia turned to the Master of the Dominicans: “Have no fear, my son; her spirit is certainly from God since everything she says is true.”<br />
<br />
I sometimes wish that I were an ecstatic Dominican nun. I could keep going for well over twenty minutes. What I doubt whether the sixth Paul has the humility of the sixth Alexander. Admittedly, it is far more difficult to be humble if one sins between the ears than if one sins between the sheets. Anyway, the point is perfectly clear: Colomba was in opposition to the person of the Pope precisely out of loyalty to the institution of the Papacy.<br />
<br />
What I find astonishing in our days is that the situation is exactly reversed. People can attack the Papacy to their heart’s content provided they do not breathe a word against the person of the Pope. Our own ecumenists see the Pope as a Constitutional Monarch with plenty of whiskers but no teeth. Hans Küng is even against the whiskers. Dom Bernard Bresnet thinks that the Papacy should be a committee with, possibly, a lady chairman. Professor Delumeau would prefer the pope to be the quinquennially elected President of the World Council of Churches. All these—and I could name others—are in keeping with the present regime, and Delumeau can even expect a lollypop in his stocking at Christmas. On the other hand, that benign old gentleman, Archbishop Lefebvre, gets into endless trouble for maintaining that the personal administration of the present Pontiff is an unmitigated disaster.<br />
<br />
Enough of all that. What I am getting at is perfectly clear. You should think twice before you start talking about loyalty. It is certainly you who are disloyal downwards. It is also possible that you are disloyal upwards to the divine institution of the Papacy precisely by toadying to its temporary administrator.<br />
<br />
I could fill another couple of pages on your accusation that I use the Mass as a banner of revolt. The trouble is that you have the mind of a drill sergeant. You could not care less in which direction the platoon is marching provided it keeps in step. When, at the edge of a precipice, the troops break formation and scurry off, you accuse them of indiscipline.<br />
<br />
Excuse me if I appear to answer you with a bit of your own coinage, but it does not prevent me from being<br />
<br />
Ever devotedly in Dmno,<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="_Tgc">— Byran Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 33–36.</span><br />
<br />Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-72183947424129005952016-07-20T16:32:00.003-07:002017-09-07T14:53:25.223-07:00Bishop Forester on Participation at Mass<br />
<b>11.</b> To the Reverend Giles Pocock, Parish Priest of Blackwater<br />
(Blackwater is a “plum” parish with no curates and no schools; just two Masses on Sundays. He was formerly Professor of Fundamental Theology at a major seminary.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Dear Father Pocock,<br />
<br />
I was most grateful to receive your letter because it put my mind at rest. I am afraid of you theologians. You seem to have gone charismatic and to “speak with tongues” which we common mortals fail to understand—although I sometimes suspect that you merely have your tongue in your cheek.<br />
<br />
It is very good of you to consent to put the prayers of the old Offertory back in their place in spite of your reservations about their significance. I am delighted, too, that you should approve by and large of my “hybrid.” So your 9 a.m. will be the New Ordo plus the Offertory and the 11 o’clock the “hybrid.” Yes, that is perfectly all right by me. I vaguely hope, however, that from time to time you will give your parishioners the Immemorial Rite should they ask for it. Surely you have a hard core of Tridentiners who are led by the Duchess? Perhaps that is the trouble: you feel it would be unwise to allow the Duchess’ clique too openly, too easily, and too soon.<br />
<br />
You give me, however, a quite different reason which both interests me and which I completely fail to understand. You say that on balance you disapprove of the old rite and approve of the new because it is your function “to mediate religion to your people.” Doubtless you have to mediate it to them in catechism classes, sermons, conferences and the like, but surely not at Mass? What you do at Mass is exactly the reverse: You “mediate the religion of the people to the Heavenly Father through Jesus Christ truly present on the altar.”<br />
<br />
You seem to me to have defined with wonderful clarity the basic difference between the new rite and the old. If you think of Mass as “mediating religion to the people” then clearly it should be comprehensible, i.e. in the vernacular, and didactic, i.e. with lots of scripture readings and homilies; moreover, the people should demonstrate that they have received the message by constant “participation” at every level and in diverse forms—exclamations, hymns, gestures. If, on the other hand, you think of Mass as “mediating the religion of the people to God,” then, as a matter of fact, there is nothing for it but silence.<br />
<br />
What do I, Edmund Forester, imagine is happening during Mass in the old rite? Quite simple. After a bit of backchat, Epistles and Gospels and things, I uncover the instruments of my craft and lay on the sacrifice of Man’s Redemption in much the same way as a plumber lays on water. Yes, but the people? They start subsiding. Some meditate for a moment but soon give up; some thumb a prayer book without much conviction; some finger a rosary without thinking; the majority just sit or kneel and become empty. They have their distractions, of course, but as far as they are able they are recollected. You see, the state of prayer of the overwhelming majority of the faithful is that of “simple regard.”<br />
<br />
Good, they are now recollected. Human activity is reduced to its minimum. Then the miracle occurs. At the fine apex of their souls, imperceptible even to themselves, the Holy Ghost starts making little shrieks of “Abba, Father” or after the consecration, soft groans of the Holy Name, “Jesu, Jesu.” They adore: or rather, to be more accurate, the Holy Ghost adores within them. Sometimes, as I stand at the altar, I can feel the myriad little darts of adoration piercing my back and landing on the Adorable Presence. That is what I mean by “mediating the religion of the people to God.”<br />
<br />
“Nonsense, Forester,” I can hear you say, “you are being sentimental.” No I am not; it is merely that I am fairly sensitive. How often have I been almost deafened by the piety of the faithful, now, alas, struck dumb by sing-songs!<br />
<br />
I ought to write a thousand boring letters but I must tell you a story. I had been Parish Priest of Grumby for a couple of years. In a remote village lived a certain Mrs Donkin, mother of five children under ten, of whom the last was born after her husband was killed in an accident. They had to walk a couple of miles to catch the bus, which did not correspond at all conveniently with Masses. The mother and elder children carried the baby in turn; the toddlers toddled. Never did they miss Mass except when there was snow. Because of the bus, they arrived rather early for the 9:30 and plonked themselves down in their pew, with a potty for the toddlers, carefully camouflaged in a scarlet bandanna. There they sat. They never moved. Mrs Donkin neither stood for the Gospel nor knelt at the Sanctus. The only kneeling was when Mrs Donkin and the eldest boy were at the Communion rail.<br />
<br />
I used to call on them about once a quarter. I was still young and had the illusion that I could “do good.” The second child was going to make her first Holy Communion and I thought it would be a good excuse to give Mrs D. a really decent missal and appropriate prayer books for the rest. To introduce the subject I said to Mrs D.: “I notice that at Mass you don’t use a rosary or missal or anything. What do you do, Mrs Donkin?” Without a moment’s thought or hesitation the answer came: “I sits there and I loves.” When anyone starts criticizing the piety of the laity, the harsh voice of Mrs Donkin rings in my ears: “I sits there and I loves.” St Teresa of Avila could say no more.<br />
<br />
No, Father, I do not mediate religion to Mrs Donkin. By the grace of ordination I mediate her religion to the One she loves.<br />
<br />
Forgive me, Father, but in my present troubles it is a relief to write about the only thing that matters: the adoration of God.<br />
<br />
Devotedly in Dmno,<br />
<br />
—Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 43–45.Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-77703820165960873692016-07-15T06:08:00.000-07:002016-07-15T06:15:40.077-07:00Dedicatory Foreword: Judith's Marriage
<p>I was ordained a priest on March 31, 1940. In June of that year I was appointed to Slough, an industrial suburb of London, where I founded St. Anthony's parish in the dormitory to the Trading Estate. In September 1954, I was moved to the parish of St. Edmund at Bury St. Edmunds, the County Town of West Suffolk, where I remained until Saturday, November 29, 1969. I resigned and retired as from midnight on that day. Why? Because on the following morning, the First Sunday of Advent, the New Ordo of Mass was supposed to come into force.</p>
<p>"But surely," one may say, "you were being rather intransigent over a bit of mumbo-jumbo?" Perhaps. But it happened to be the touchstone to a basic issue. This issue was that the new reforms in general and of the liturgy in particular were based on the assumption that the Catholic laity were a set of ignorant fools. They practiced out of tribal custom; their veneration of the Cross and the Mass was totem worship; they were motivated by nothing more than the fear of Hell; their piety was superstition and their loyalty habit. But the most gratuitous insult of all was that most Catholics had a Sunday religion which in no way affected their weekday behaviour. This monstrous falsehood was – and still is – maintained by bishops and priests who, for the most part, have never been adult laymen. Every day the Catholic workman had to put up with the jeers of his colleagues, as the more educated with their sneers. Every night they took their religion to bed with them.<br />
<p>I am not in position to judge other priests' parishioners. I am, however, in a position to judge what were my own. No words are adequate for me to express my admiration for the conscious faith and piety of my flock, both in Slough and in Bury. This is where the trouble lay. The reforms were based on criticism; I was unwilling to take any action which make me appear to criticize the wonderful people whom I was ordained to serve. I was perfectly conscious that I learned more about God from them than they were likely to learn from me.</p>
<p>Then there were the converts. I happened to be one myself. The mystery of grace is consequently not absent from my mind. I have no notion of the number I received. A couple of hundred? Perhaps more. They ranged from the highly cultured to, quite literally, tramps. To all I gave the same eternal truths. Perhaps it is pride, but I am unwilling to admit that I deceived them into the Church.</p>
<p>And the marriage converts. This is a breed which is normally despised. I have it in writing in the hand of a bishop. How I admired them! Of course human love has some analogy with Divine Love, or God would not have rooted it so firmly in the human makeup. I suppose I could class myself as an "intellectual convert." What does that mean? Merely that the bankruptcy of my intelligence was filled by God's grace. Marriage converts have more than I to show: their human love looks toward the Divine Love. And they are willing to prove it by an acid test: the creative act. How can anyone despise such people?</p>
<p>Perhaps the reason for my resignation is now clear: I was unwilling to be instrumental in any change which might cause scandal to my wonderful parishioners.</p>
<p>What passes belief is that I know of no book or article published within the last twenty years extolling the virtues and commiserating the sufferings of the Catholic laity. If they dared to remonstrate they were merely told that they were divisive, disloyal and disobedient. Hence the present novel. Its purpose is to show that at any rate one priest appreciates the predicament into which the laity have been put.</p>
<p>I consequently dedicate this little work to my erstwhile parishioners at Slough and at Bury St. Edmunds. It is a small token of my admiration for their loyalty to the Faith and of my gratitude for the example of unquestioning piety which they set me.</p>
<p>Bryan Houghton</p>
<p><a href="http://www.murphywong.net/bhjm.html"><i>Judith's Marriage</i></a></p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-90748256061763928212016-03-03T12:01:00.000-08:002016-07-15T06:01:42.211-07:00Gospel Scenes and Meditations<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IgmLK2g2aFk/TannHkTmpVI/AAAAAAAAHxQ/bfFZ6qm_njs/s1600/2011-04-13_0506.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 400px;" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IgmLK2g2aFk/TannHkTmpVI/AAAAAAAAHxQ/bfFZ6qm_njs/s400/2011-04-13_0506.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5596258129175553362"></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.murphywong.net/GospelScenes.pdf"><span style="font-style:italic;">Gospel Scenes and Meditations</span></a>Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-90055414967484942342015-11-17T20:03:00.000-08:002015-11-17T20:03:10.012-08:00Pascal on Eloquence<p>16. Eloquence is the art of saying things in such a way (1) that those to whom we speak are able to hear them without pain and with pleasure; (2) that they feel their self-interest involved, so that self-love leads them the more willingly to think over what has been said.</p>
<p>It consists, then, in a correspondence which we try to establish, on the one hand, between the head and the heart of those to whom we speak and, on the other, between the thoughts and expressions that we use. This presupposes that we have studied the heart of man in order to know all its workings and that we find the right arrangement of the remarks that we wish to make suitable. We must put ourselves in the place of those who are to hear us, and try out on our own heart the appeal we make in what we say, so as to see whether the one is rightly made for the other, and whether we can feel confident that the hearer will be, as it were, forced to surrender. We ought to restrict ourselves, so far as possible, to the simple and natural, and not to magnify that which is small or diminish that which is great. It is not enough that a thing be beautiful; it must be suitable to the subject and there must be nothing excessive or lacking.</p>
<p>— trans. Jaques Barzun</p>
<p>88. L'éloquence est un art de dire les choses de telle façon, 1° que ceux à qui l'on parle puissent les entendre sans peine, et avec plaisir ; 2° qu'ils s'y sentent intéressés, en sorte que l'amour-propre les porte plus volontiers à y faire réflexion. Elle consiste donc dans une correspondance qu'on tâche d'établir entre l'esprit et le cœur de ceux à qui l'on parle d'un côté, et de l'autre les pensées et les expressions dont on se sert ; ce qui suppose qu'on aura bien étudié le cœur de l'homme pour en savoir tous les ressorts, et pour trouver ensuite les justes proportions du discours qu'on veut y assortir. Il faut se mettre à la place de ceux qui doivent nous entendre, et faire essai sur son propre cœur du tour qu'on donne à son discours, pour voir si l'un est fait pour l'autre, et si l'on peut assurer que l'auditeur sera comme forcé de se rendre. Il faut se renfermer, le plus qu'il est possible, dans le simple naturel ; ne pas faire grand ce qui est petit, ni petit ce qui est grand. Ce n'est pas assez qu'une chose soit belle, il faut qu'elle soit propre au sujet, qu'il n'y ait rien de trop ni rien de manque.</p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-62484656221955742312015-11-03T15:23:00.000-08:002015-11-03T15:25:55.795-08:00"I shall end on a personal note."<p>I shall end on a personal note. I have never said the New Mass. I resigned my parish rather than be under an obligation to do so. I have no intention of saying it. Neither will it be said over my dead body. Nevertheless, I should say Bishop Forester’s “Common Mass” tomorrow if I knew it would contribute to bringing peace to Holy Church.</p>
<p>Bryan Houghton<br />
July 1st, 1985</p>
<p>— Bryan Houghton, <i>Mitre and Crook</i>, 1979, p. 219.</p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-47450017066478916682015-10-30T17:59:00.001-07:002015-10-30T17:59:40.299-07:00The embryo<p>The embryo carries the singularity, the uniqueness, the awe-inspiring ineffability of the individuum. — Erwin Chargaff, <cite>Serious Quesitons</cite>, 1986, p.65. Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-57867698853385021792015-10-30T09:47:00.000-07:002015-10-30T09:47:00.936-07:00"Own your heresy."Being called Satan did not disturb Simon Peter's career path.
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-36658714810199960622015-10-27T10:02:00.000-07:002015-10-27T10:02:32.214-07:00"Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."<p>His schoolfellow and friend, Dr. Taylor, told me a pleasant anecdote of Johnson's triumphing over his pupil David Garrick. When that great actor had played some little time at Goodman's fields, Johnson and Taylor went to see him perform, and afterwards passed the evening at a tavern with him and old Giffard. Johnson, who was ever depreciating stage-players, after censuring some mistakes in emphasis which Garrick had committed in the course of that night's acting, said, 'The players, Sir, have got a kind of rant, with which they run on, without any regard either to accent or emphasis.' Both Garrick and Giffard were offended at this sarcasm, and endeavoured to refute it; upon which Johnson rejoined, 'Well now, I'll give you something to speak, with which you are little acquainted, and then we shall see how just my observation is. That shall be the criterion. Let me hear you repeat the ninth Commandment, "Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."' Both tried at it, said Dr. Taylor, and both mistook the emphasis, which should be upon not and false witness. Johnson put them right, and enjoyed his victory with great glee.</p>
<p>— Boswell's Johnson</p> Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-47583686023900986322015-10-27T07:00:00.000-07:002016-07-14T15:05:15.542-07:00"That's a wonderful pope you've got."<p>The old sectarian shrieks of "No Popery" had been turned into veneration of the Pope and admiration of the council. Now, it was precisely that – the very cause of his optimism – which had become the principle cause of his depression, along with Archbishop Roberts and episcopal porn. Every day he had to put up with well-intentioned compliments. "That's a wonderful pope you've got. Seen this article? He says we're all Christians together, be we Jews or Muslims. That what I've always believed." "By Jove, Rougham, you've got quite a bright boy in that Cardinal Suenens. He says we marry to have intercourse, nothing to do with bloody brats. Didn't know you Papists were so broad-minded." "Hello, Rougham! You're a Papist, aren't you? Congratulations! Your church has shed the blinkers. I married my daughter to one of yours last Saturday. No dam' nonsense about promises and so on. The vicar did it splendidly in the village church with your chap in attendance. Just right. That's Christian charity for you." "Went to one of your services the other day. A bit Low Church for my taste, but at
least one knows what it's about." "Have you read what your pope said yesterday (December 7th, 1965)? 'The religion of God made man has met the religion of man made God…There is no opposition…We, more than anyone, favour the promotion of man.' That's what free-thinkers and humanists have said all along. Shake hands, Rougham, old boy!" "Good show, Edmund! I suppose that now you Catholics have become Protestants, we shall have to become R.C.'s to preserve our independence." And so on and on, day in, day out. It was a cross which the laity but not the clergy had to endure. Can there be a more painful predicament than to have to accept as a compliment what in all the world one most hates? Such was the situation in which the council placed millions of Catholics all over the world. Edmund stuck it until the audience with Paul VI and the disappearance of the crucifix. That was the end.</p>
<p>— Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://murphywong.net/bhjm.html"><i>Judith's Marriage</i></a>, 1987, pp. 192–193.</p>Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-61553895706108185422015-10-25T06:25:00.000-07:002019-12-02T06:24:18.553-08:00Bishop Forester to Fr. Bryan Houghton, March 13, 1977To the Reverend Bryan Houghton, Avignon, France.<br />
Sunday, March 13th, 1977.<br />
<br />
Dear Bryan,<br />
<br />
I do not know if you read the copies of my correspondence or if you merely file them. If you read them, you will notice that <a href="http://extraordinarytime.blogspot.com/2015/10/bishop-to-archbishop.html">yesterday I wrote to Klushko mentioning the Lefebvre affair</a>. It really is a scandalous business. I have never met Lefebvre nor corresponded with him but I took copious notes of whatever was published. Upon re-reading these notes I am so shocked that I intend to inflict the story on you. I hope it does not bore you stiff.<br />
<br />
By no means does the scandal stop with the disappearance of the tapes. The Tribunal, you will remember, was composed of Cardinals Garrone, Wright and Tabera. I know nothing about Tabera but I met Garrone when he was Archbishop of Toulouse and from reliable sources have heard nothing but praise of Wright. These last two are quite certainly honourable men and it is out of keeping with their known character that they should deliberately have acted deceitfully. Thus when on January 25th Garrone invited Lefebvre to a chat, this is what he intended. Higher authority must have intervened to turn it into the grilling of February 13th and March 3rd.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the Tribunal’s verdict is dated May 6th, 1975. It is not devoid of interest.<br />
<br />
In the first place, the sentence was executed before judgment was given. I wonder if this is unique in the history of law. Moreover, it was executed on the authority of Tabera, a member of the Tribunal. Yes, on April 25th, eleven days before the verdict was signed, Tabera wrote to Bishop Mamie of Fribourg “calling upon you to proceed without delay” to the suppression of Lefebvre’s Confraternity of St Pius X. He gives for his authority “the conclusions reached by the special Commission of Cardinals"—but they had reached no conclusions at that date. The only explanation I can think of is that he was forcing his colleagues’ hands, presumably on instructions from higher authority. Bishop Mamie obeyed. On May 6th, consequently on the very day that the verdict was signed and before he could conceivably have received a certified copy of it, he notified Archbishop Lefebvre that he and all his works ceased to exist: “This decision takes immediate effect.”<br />
<br />
The verdict of May 6th is a surprising document. The three clauses of condemnation are preceded by a covering letter. This reads like an exercise of dry humour. Here is what it says about the grilling: “We remain most grateful for the friendly atmosphere in which our recent discussions took place, without our differing points of view ever impairing the serene and deep fellowship between us (<i>communion profonde et sereine</i>).” What a joke! The central argument is even more rum: “It is inadmissible that people should be called upon to pass their own personal judgement on orders emanating from the Pope, whether to submit or not: herein lies the traditional argument of the sects who appeal to yesterday’s Pope to avoid obeying today’s.” Surely the Cardinals have their tongues in their cheeks? Inevitably all heretics appeal to tomorrow’s Pope or the future Council, if not more radically to the Holy Ghost or the Second Coming—as do our Pentecostalists, Charismatics and Teilhardists today.<br />
<br />
At last we come to the three clauses of the actual verdict. In each clause the operative words are in inverted commas. I need not expatiate on the significance of this astonishing fact. I quote them in full with the inverted commas:<br />
<blockquote>
1. “A letter shall be sent to Mgr Mamie by which is recognized his right to withdraw his predecessor’s approbation of the Confraternity and its Statutes.” The deed has been done by letter from His Eminence Cardinal Tabera, Prefect of the S. Congregation for Religious.</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote>
2. Once the Confraternity is suppressed, “no longer having any juridical basis, its offshoots, and notably the seminary at Ecône, cease by the same token to have the right to exist.”</blockquote>
<br />
<blockquote>
3. It is evident—and we are called upon to give clear notice thereof—“that no support may be given to Mgr Lefebvre as long as the ideas contained in his Manifesto of November 21st, 1974 shall remain the rule governing his actions.”</blockquote>
Quite apart from the inverted commas, I love the insertion in clause 3: “and we are called upon to give clear notice thereof—<i>nous sommes invités à le notifier clairement”</i>! Has there ever been another judgement thus to proclaim itself a sham? I know that Cardinals Garrone and Wright have been criticized for signing the verdict. I disagree: honour must be given where it is due. They only signed to what had already been accomplished by Tabera and Mamie—and they say so. They also made it quite clear that the verdict was not theirs.<br />
<br />
In view of the Cardinals’ verdict and the suppression of his Confraternity by the Bishop of Fribourg, on May 21st Lefebvre appealed to the Supreme Court of the Church, the Segnatura. Its Perfect is one Cardinal Staffa, reputedly a man of principle. Lefebvre’s grounds were threefold: 1. lack of legal form in the suppression of his Confraternity since, under Cn 493, only the Holy See, not the Bishop of Fribourg, could do so; 2. since he, Lefebvre, is condemned in matters of faith, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is alone competent and not Garrone’s Tribunal; 3. a condemnation of his Declaration of November 1974 affects none but himself; it affects neither his Confraternity nor his Seminary. These grounds seem perfectly reasonable.<br />
<br />
Ah, the dear old Segnatura! If Rome is hailed as the Eternal City, the Segnatura exemplifies what is meant. No panic, no flap at the Segnatura, all is seemliness and due decorum. When Lefebvre posted his appeal that evening of May 21st, he must have felt that perfect peace was his for at east a twelve-month.<br />
<br />
Not a bit of it! His appeal was duly registered at the Segnatura on June 5th; its rejection is dated June 10th. What, overtime at the Segnatura? Impossible! Lefebvre’s lawyer on the spot had a different explanation: Cardinal Villot sent a note in his own handwriting to Cardinal Staffa “directing him to prohibit the appeal.”<br />
<br />
On the face of it, this does not look too good: the highest administrative officer in the Church giving directions to the highest judicial officer. This would be worse than Watergate. But, admitting the physical fact of Villot’s intervention, is this exactly what happened? In view of Staffa’s reputation, I suspect not. It is worth looking at the wording of Staffa’s rejection of the appeal. In the name of the Supreme Tribunal he declares himself “incompetent” under Canon 1556. And what says Cn 1556? “<i>Prima Sedes a nemine judicatur</i>—the Primatial See is judged by no one.” This implies rather a lot: that Tabera was right and prior to April 25th the Supreme Pontiff had by personal act condemned Lefebvre and all his works—presumably on the evidence of the vanished tapes; that the inverted commas in the Garrone verdict were quotations from this Papal condemnation and his tribunal was mere window-dressing; that Villot’s note to Staffa was to inform the latter of the Supreme Pontiff’s sentence; that Staffa did no more than record a fact. The trouble with all this is that the essential document is missing: the Papal decree condemning Lefebvre and all his works. One really cannot base public acts on private documents. The whole business is made to look shifty by the constant shifting between a judicial process and the appeal to a secret decree. Small wonder that Lefebvre should pay scant attention to his condemnation. Small wonder that I should lay down conditions to any interview with Klushko or his representative.<br />
<br />
This is not quite the end of Act I in the Lefebvre tragedy. There are the two letters addressed to him by the Pope dated July 10th and September 10th, 1975. It is the first which needs to be examined, as the second is little more than a request for an answer. The Pope starts off by assuring Lefebvre that he is well informed of everything concerning his case and the seminary at Ecône. The tapes are not mentioned but I cannot help feeling that he is referring to them. He also shoulders full responsibility for ordering the immediate closure of Ecône—which ties in with Tabera’s letter to Bishop Mamie of April 25th. Then comes the operative sentence demanding of Lefebvre “a public act of submission to the Council, to the post-Conciliar reforms and to the ‘orientations’ to which the Pope himself is pledged (<i>aux orientations qui engagent le Pape lui-même</i>).” These three totally different things are all lumped together and Lefebvre is supposed to swallow the lot. Submission to the Council presents no difficulty. The documents are wordy and ambiguous but are probably all right as far as they go. A legitimate criticism is that they do not go far enough—but that is a different matter. Submission to the “post-Conciliar reforms” needs a lot of clarification. Everyone, including Lefebvre, is doubtless willing to submit to those reforms which have been duly promulgated as soon as we know which they are: the New Ordo, for instance, is certainly not among them. Is Lefebvre supposed to submit to administrative follies which are still to come, apart from those which already exist? But to submit to the “orientations” to which the Pope feels pledged is perfectly preposterous. What a wonderfully vague word is “orientations”: one’s bearings, outlook, point of view, direction, party line. Up to and including the Council, Catholics were bound to believe all defined doctrines and to obey the commands of the Church’s magisterium. Now, apparently, we are expected to submit to an “outlook.” We must all look in the same direction as the reigning Pontiff: “Company, eyes left!” This is giving us blinkers as never before. The new triumphalism is more exigent than the old. The trouble is that in a sense Paul VI is absolutely right: the new look in the Catholic Church is due precisely to the substitution of a human outlook for Divine Revelation. It is consequently largely sociological and political instead of dogmatic and spiritual. Heaven help us!<br />
<br />
The end of the letter is no less curious. “You make yourself out to be a second Athanasius; but he was supporting the decrees of the Council of Nicaea whereas you are opposing Vatican II, which has no less authority than Nicaea and in many respects is more important.” Exactly: Nicaea merely defined the Divinity of Christ, whereas Vatican II has given rise to an “orientation,” an outlook. As a matter of fact, of course, Lefebvre is defending the decrees of all Councils, from Nicaea to Vatican II inclusive: he is defending decrees as against “orientations.”<br />
<br />
Thus ends Act I. The plot is set. God alone can unravel it.<br />
<br />
I hope I have not bored you with all this, but it has helped me a lot to put it down on paper. It was Klushko’s letter which reminded me of Lefebvre. I made some notes on the affair in December 1975. On looking through them now, it seems more important and far sadder than it did at the time.<br />
Now for less lugubrious subjects. . . .<br />
<br />
— Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 193–197.Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-41001016157528389012015-10-22T11:04:00.003-07:002016-11-20T11:23:40.890-08:00Bishop to Archbishop<p>Second letter to Archbishop Klushko, Rome <i>(The first letter is #35.)</i><br />
Friday, March 11th, 1977.</p>
<p>Dear Archbishop Klushko,</p>
<p>First of all I must congratulate you on your new appointment. Not only does it immediately put you into a key position but, in view of your comparative youth, it means that with a modicum of care you can scarcely avoid becoming a Cardinal. This, I imagine could still be quite fun—although the renewal of the Church in implementing the spirit of Vatican II has abolished the principal attraction of that high office. I refer, of course, to the hat.</p>
<p>I am in receipt of your letter of February 28th and apologize for the delay in answering it. It is most kind of you to invite me to Rome and under normal circumstances I should be delighted to accept. As you know, however, I happen to be dying. It is an inconvenient occupation which makes it difficult for me to move from my base: numerous injections, an impossible diet and inconsiderate bowels.</p>
<p>However, I should not like you to imagine that I am using my imminent demise as an excuse. Were I in the pink of health I should require some assurances and clarifications before accepting your invitation. Your write: “The Cardinal Prefect and myself should now like to discuss with you odd points which cause us some embarrassment as a result of your <i>Ad clerum</i> of January 13th.” Apart from the reference to my <i>Ad clerum</i>, this is word for word the same as Cardinal Garrone’s letter to Archbishop Lefebvre of January 25th, 1975: “nous voudrions nous entretenir avec vous . . .” Diplomatic language, I suppose, follows well worn grooves. The point is, however, that when Lefebvre, all on his own without Canon Lawyer, theologian or secretary, arrived in Rome, he found himself confronted by Cardinals Garrone, Wright and Tabera sitting as a sort of People’s Court in which the accusation is the condemnation. The Court proceedings were duly taped.</p>
<p>Now, I am willing to chat with anyone—presumably Testastorta as I am unable to get to Rome. I am also willing to appear (inevitably by proxy) in front of any tribunal provided that the case against me is properly formulated and I am given due notice; that I am allowed Counsel as I think fit; that I may myself have the proceedings recorded and publish them at my discretion. What I am unwilling to do is to turn up for a chat and come in for a grilling.</p>
<p>I wish to explain why I insist on recording and publishing myself any discussion or proceedings which may take place. You will remember that in the case of Archbishop Lefebvre the discussion of January 25th was duly taped. This was probably less to hear what Lefebvre had to say for himself than to make sure that the Cardinals did the grilling properly. Apparently they did not, so the tough old bird was put under the grill again on March 3rd. This time the Cardinals doubtless said all they were supposed to. Lefebvre asked for a copy of the tape. Garrone had no hesitation: of course, it was his right. That evening Lefebvre sent a person round to the secretary with the necessary machinery to re-record the tape. It was refused. Next day he went himself to get it. No, he could only have a transcript, which would be ready the following evening. The following evening he was told that even the transcript was not forthcoming. It is reasonably obvious that neither Garrone nor the secretary had the tape. It must have been removed by higher authority who refused to part with it. So Lefebvre never got a copy. Then came the crowning insult. Months later—quite recently in fact—extracts appeared in an illustrated French weekly! I lack the humility to lay myself open to such treatment.</p>
<p>Do not tapes remind you of something, my dear Archbishop? I am not wildly interested in politics, but I seem to remember a scandal in the United States about a watergate [<i>sic</i>]. The upshot of it was that the then President was obliged to produce the tapes which condemned him. Surely this was splendid? It proved to the world that the U.S. is a great civilized country, governed in the long run by the Rule of Law no matter how much mud may collect in her watergates. I wish the Vatican had done likewise in the Lefebvre affair. As all agree, justice must not only be done but be seen to be done. Now that you are a distinguished member of the Church’s central administration, I trust that you will exert your utmost influence to secure the re-establishment of the Rule of Law. The sanctuary of the post-Conciliar Church is sufficiently cluttered with corpses without adding to the pile.</p>
<p>I am no less sincerely yours,<br />
my dear Archbishop,<br />
for remaining in indignant opposition,<br />
<br />
</p>
<p>— Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 191–192.</p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-74029969275165760402015-10-22T08:32:00.000-07:002018-06-24T08:03:26.068-07:00Bishop to Bishop<p>Third letter to Henry Dobson, Bishop of Hunstanton. <i>(The first is #6 and the second #36.)</i></p>
<p>Friday, March 11th, 1977</p>
<p>Dear Harry,</p>
<p>It was most kind of you to come and see me. I thoroughly enjoyed your visit. You are always so stimulating. Besides, you save me the trouble of wading through the latest nonsense: you expound it so succinctly and clearly yourself.</p>
<p>I am of course sorry that you will not promise to ordain my men in case of necessity. I suppose that I should not have hoped for more than your favourable prejudice. We humans have an itch to distrust God’s Providence. He will see to their ordination as He has to their vocation.</p>
<p>You know, during the course of conversation I think we touched on one of the basic problems in the Church today. I was holding forth on the fact that the Church is guardian of the Faith and the present crisis arose because what she enjoins and permits in practice is not readily recognizable as an expression of the Faith she guarantees. Hence we could arrive at the absurd situation in which practicers have lost the Faith whereas the faithful refuse to practice. It was your answer to this which seems to me so important. You said: “There is only one object of Faith: the Church. I am baptized into the Church and it is she who gives me Faith. On her authority I believe all other doctrines. She can deal with them as she likes, since she is the only constant. Christ revealed no doctrines but a praxis: His Kingdom of the Church.” We left it at that.</p>
<p>Few people, I think, could formulate the argument as honestly and clearly as you. Nevertheless, I believe it expresses the basic attitude of countless Catholics today, not of the “modernists” but of those who simple obey. It is a very ecclesiastical argument, akin to the patriotism in “My country right or wrong.” But is it true?</p>
<p>I suspect the it rests on two articles in the old catechism:<blockquote>
1. Faith is a supernatural gift of God enabling me to believe without doubting whatever God has revealed.
2. I am to know what God has revealed by the teaching, testimony and authority of the Catholic Church.</blockquote>
<p>If one puts those two articles together, one gets the impression that Faith as a supernatural gift merely empowers a person to believe what the Church teaches and the objects of Faith are provided by the Church. It is therefore the Church which justifies the Faith and not the Faith which justifies the Church. Hence the Church must be obeyed in all things, even if she is quite clearly hiding her light under a bushel. It automatically becomes right and proper that the light should be shaded because legitimate authority in the Church has said so. I do not think that is an unfair or distorted presentation of the case, is it?</p>
<p>But surely it is evident that such an argument is tautological or a vicious circle? I am to know what God had revealed by the authority of the Church. And how am I to know that the Church has such authority? Because the Church says that God has revealed it. It is patently nonsense.</p>
<p>You will notice that you yourself admit it to be nonsense. You said: “Christ revealed no doctrines but a praxis: His Kingdom, His Church.” You thereby concede that there is at any rate one object of Faith logically prior to the Church: the authority of Christ. And once you admit that, all the rest follows. Is His authority divine? Is He God incarnate, the Second Person of the Trinity, born of the Virgin Mary, etc.? Indeed, one of the things which follows from your prior faith in the divine authority of Christ is the authority of the Church. It does not work the other way round: you do not believe that Christ receives His authority from the Church. The Church is the guardian of God’s revelation but not its source. She herself is one of the objects of Faith: I believe in One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church.</p>
<p>Therein, it seems to me, lies the crux of the present crisis. I mean the crisis between honest Catholics, such as I believe both of us to be. I am not referring to heretics who have lost the Faith although the Church no longer excludes them. I mean you and me. Faced with the same crisis, we react in diametrically opposite ways. Your immediate reaction, along with the overwhelming majority of churchmen, is to save the Church and the Faith will look after itself. Mine, along with a heavy percentage of the laity, is to save the Faith and let the Church look after herself. We cannot both be right. Indeed, each day the gulf between us is growing wider. If we pursue our ways indefinitely we shall come to the point when the faithful are legal schismatics and the obedient factual heretics.</p>
<p>At this point I can hear you say: “Don’t talk rot, Edmund. It is your metaphor which deceives you. We are not going in opposite directions: we are merely looking at the opposite facets of the same coin. Even if I grant you the logical priority of Faith over the Church, in practice he who defends the Church defends the Faith and he who defends the Faith defends the Church.”</p>
<p>In normal times this would by and large be so. I say “by and large” because history provides plenty of examples of excessive use of ecclesiastical authority. Quite apart from mediaeval excommunications, in our own day some of your friends might feel that Pius XII went a bit far when he demanded internal assent to the Five Ways of proving the existence of God. But at the moment of time it is patently untrue to say that in defending the Church one is automatically defending the Faith and this for two reasons: a) the Faith is ambiguously formulated; b) heretics are no longer excluded from the Church. The fact is that the Faith is exclusive whereas the Church has become inclusive. She has changed Our Lord’s lapidary sentence, “He who is not with me is against me,” into the coward’s whine, “He is my friend who bullies me.”</p>
<p>We do not have to look very far for the result, my dear Harry. Concerning the defence of the Faith, over the past ten years have you promoted priests who refuse the term and doubtless the meaning of “Transubstantiation” and talk of “a Personal” instead of “The Real Presence”? I have. What have you done about clergy who openly preach contraception? A little more, I hope, than I—which is practically nothing. Has your natural chivalry, if not your conviction, led you to defend the Mother of God against those who who “put her in her place”? It has not me. Have you remonstrated with those who refuse to administer the Sacrament of Penance except by appointment but insist on Penitential Services? As a matter of fact I have, but I trust you have done it more firmly. Have you stamped on priests who refuse to give infant Baptism for a variety of specious reasons including the denial of Original Sin? I have done little more than wag a reproving finger accompanied by a rueful smile. Have you even defended the authority of the Papacy and your own against the democratic rights of the People of God? Curiously enough, you probably less than I, which is not saying much. I call a halt to this catalogue not from lack of ammunition but of patience. The fact is, and we know it, that in our own dioceses it is not we who defended the Faith: it has been left to pathetic little groups of layfolk, helped or hindered by a stray priest, to do so.</p>
<p>It is a very different matter when it comes to enforcing the New Outlook. Have you promoted a priest who has stuck to the Immemorial Mass? Of course not and, to my everlasting shame, neither have I. What has been your attitude to priests who mumble that Vatican II failed to face the facts and that post-Conciliar legislation has been disastrous; who refuse to be brainwashed by attending compulsory study-days; who jeer at Bishops’ Collegiality, the National Conference of Priests and the new structures generally; who will not give Communion standing and in the hand; who administer Extreme Unction as of yore; who will still say the Breviary, the Rosary and make their meditation; who . . . ? have you reserved key positions in your administration for such men of probity and principle? No more than I have, Harry. We have looked after the Church all right but not after the Faith.</p>
<p>The crowning example is Archbishop Lefebvre. He has been attacked from all sides, yet nobody has dared impugn his Faith and accuse him of being unorthodox. In fact, if only he would utter the tiniest, wee little heresy, authority could indulge in charity and all would be forgiven. The trouble is that the old devil won’t, so there is nothing to forgive. Thus he gets suspended and threatened with excommunication on the trumped up charge of disobeying ecclesiastical law.</p>
<p>My own case is not without its interest. I do nothing which I have not got a perfect right to do. I endeavour to mend the divisions of my diocese precisely by appealing to the unity of Faith against the “divisiveness” of praxis. This so horrifies authority that it first reveals the fact that I am dying and then will not let me die in peace. I have here on my desk a letter from Klushko summoning me to Rome. Perhaps he hopes that the voyage will kill me! Of course I shall not go. If he is all that keen on a chat, he can come to Stamford.</p>
<p>Somewhere towards the start of this epistle I said that we might end up in the absurd position where practicing Catholics had lost the Faith whereas the faithful refused to practice. We are there already. Although, as a bishop, I am rather cut off from intimacy with the laity, among my personal friends I know a surprising number of people in that position. I shall give you an example. It is one among many but it happened to hurt me quite particularly.</p>
<p>When I was a little boy the only other Catholics in our vicinity were the Fogartys, a very devout and respectable family from Galway. Mr. Forgarty was a cowman on a neighbouring estate. One of the children, Kate, was my age. I have known her all my life and love her dearly. She married an excellent Catholic fellow from Epping. Whenever I had to drive up to London, I tried to arrange to have lunch with Kate and her husband on the way. The last time I did so was in October. I was a bit early and Robert, the husband, had not returned from work. “Oh, Edmund! I am so glad to get you alone,” said Kate. “It’s about Robert. Can’t you say something to him? He refuses to go to Mass, he who was so regular. He slangs the priests for everything. It’s such a bad example for the grandchildren, etc.” Robert duly turned up. Kate retired to the kitchen to serve up lunch. “Glad to get you alone,” said Robert. “It’s about my wife. Can’t you put some sense into her? Madge, that’s my eldest granddaughter, is going out with a non-Catholic. She says he needn’t become a Catholic and they can get married in the Protestant church. She’s put her on the pill, too, getting my Madge into wicked ways. And she’s gone all politics. Communist, that’s what I calls it. She spends her time at meetings and comes home full of hate. There’s no more family Rosary. I say it by myself while they watch the telly. She’s a right pagan, she is. And she takes Our Blessed Lord in her hand as though He were a bit of chewing gum. I can’t watch her: it makes me sick. She says she’s not a Roman Catholic: ‘I’m an Adult Christian.’ is what she says. And it’s all the fault of those bloody priests. They’re not Catholic, they’re devils, breaking up happy homes, that’s what they are.” Etc. . . . At lunch all I was able to do was to verify that both had spoken the truth. Kate practiced but had lost the Faith. Robert was faithful, even devout, but nothing would induce him to practice. How sad! And this is quite common, as you know full well.</p>
<p>Well, I suppose I shall have to answer Klushko. Before I do so, however, I should like to make my position clear.</p>
<p>The visible Church, the Kingdom, the community of the People of God—whatever you like to call it—is not the source but one of the objects of Faith; neither is she the sole nor even the primary object thereof. What she is, on the other hand, the the guardian of Faith by divine authority. As such she is infallible in proclaiming what the Faith is. Being composed of mortal men, however, she is lamentably fallible in putting the Faith into practice. This capacity for practical error is just as present in the Church’s administration as in her individual members. The Church is infallible but not impeccable. Where there is conflict between her Faith and her practice, as is clearly the case today, the faithful have no alternative but to cling to her Faith and discard her practice. My position is surely as reasonable as it is clear: I judge the Church’s fallible practice in the light of her infallible Faith. In theory, my dear Harry, you are either maintaining that the Church is impeccable—which is nonsense—or that one should cling to her practice and abandon her Faith.</p>
<p>Fortunately, however, we none of us live by theories and I know that Harry Dobson is just as good a Catholic as he knows is</p>
<p>His devoted friend,<br />
Edmund Forester.</p>
<p>— Bryan Houghton, <a href="http://www.murphywong.net/MitreAndCrook.html"><i>Mitre and Crook</i></a>, 1979, pp. 185–190.</p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-48539357236458379252015-10-21T16:47:00.001-07:002015-10-21T16:47:22.605-07:00Bishop Forester's Meditation in front of the Blessed Sacrament<p>1. Here, O my God! Is Your most secret hiding-place.</p>
<p>2. In the creation You hide in life and being. Here You hide in death and destruction. This is the memorial of Your Passion.</p>
<p>3. What You left us by Your testament was Your Body and Blood, the physical evidence of the most impossible of all crimes: deicide, the killing of God.</p>
<p>4. And we, mankind, are the culprits.</p>
<p>5. We talk much in our days of communal activity and shared responsibility. Such talk contains this much truth: in front of You, truly present on the altar, we share in the community and responsibility of guilt.</p>
<p>6. There is the victim; here is the culprit. What further evidence is there required for our condemnation?</p>
<p>7. But it is here, where You are most hidden, that You most reveal Yourself: <i>“omnipotentiam tuam parcendo maxime et miserando manifestas” (X p. Pent.)</i>. It is in sparing and pitying that Your omnipotence is supremely evident. In comparison to this, the creation is an insignificant bauble.</p>
<p>8. In Your hands the evidence of the most inconceivable crime becomes the guarantee of the criminal’s forgiveness.</p>
<p>9. Because You are almighty, to you “all things work to a good end”—even the greatest possible crime. This is the act of the transcendent God, living and true.</p>
<p>10. Such is the luminous cloud in which is hidden and revealed the God of Christians—and there is none other.</p>
<p>11. Let us adore in silence lest the spoken word create an idol and shatter reality.</p>
<p>— Bryan Houghton, <i>Mitre and Crook</i>, 1979, p. 180.</p>Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-31054188646377688322015-10-21T14:29:00.001-07:002015-10-21T14:31:12.689-07:00A politically incorrect talk by Bishop Forester<p>A “Second” Talk</p>
<p><i>(It has been very difficult to decipher as it was clearly written in great haste in a sort of shorthand. BH)</i></p>
<p>It is a very different matter to know something in the abstract and to experience its reality. I was well aware that your Congregation was among the most progressive in the country but I had no means of picturing what this really meant. Now I can see you in front of me, all forty-two ladies from your three establishments in this diocese.</p>
<p>The first thing to strike me is, obviously, your appearance. How I admire the ingenuity with which you manage to vary it. Of old, your were in habit, coif and veil. One saw nothing more than your eyes, nose, mouth and hands. How simple it was! Now it has become very complicated. I have not taken an exact count, but you have over twenty different hairstyles. Deep meditation must have gone into such a result. I admire each, although three of you spoil the effect by wearing mantillas here in the chapel. And what a variety of suits, jumpers, frocks! Not two alike. But what I admire most—being a man although a Bishop—is your forty-two varieties of shoes. I have not noticed one pair the same. This is astounding. It must be the result of much prayerful thought.</p>
<p>We are all well aware that the modern world is deeply concerned about pollution and the environment. You look wonderfully clean, so physical pollution is no problem. But has it never struck you that your clothes are your immediate environment? They both condition and express you. Of old your habit expressed your vows and your Congregation. They also conditioned your reaction to people and—more important—their reaction to you. Now they express no more than yourselves. How they condition your reaction to people, I can only guess. How they condition people’s reaction to you is clear. You are females. The members of your own sex will show you little mercy. As for men, were I not a Bishop, I might easily pinch some of the more rotund bottoms. Is that what you want?</p>
<p>Hair-dos, shoe cleaning, clothes cleaning, washing and ironing—it must all take a considerable time. I am not in the least surprised that the half-hour meditation before Mass should no longer be compulsory. What does seem to me odd is that Mass itself has become optional. But so has everything else. As several of you put it to me during interviews: “We now do freely what we did under compulsion.” This you consider to be a great improvement. I have two observations to make.</p>
1.<blockquote>I grant it to be true that you now do freely what you did by force. The distinction is important. You are the dedicated Spouses of Christ to whom, consequently, you have obligations. You are not His mistresses, whom you are willing to oblige. You must have been told a hundred times that the supreme act of liberty lies in its surrender, be it in marriage, be it to God. That is what is meant by love: the will of the lover surrenders to the Beloved. Since when have you decided that your freedom is worth more than your vows and that your independence is a greater virtue than your obedience to the Rule?</blockquote>
2.<blockquote>But in fact it is quite untrue that you now do freely what you did by force. You have a rota for your Office. There are no longer community devotions. At meals, you come in when you like, you sit where you like, there is no reading and you talk as you please. This afternoon during interviews I was not impressed by the silence of your house. But what strikes me most strange is your freedom in spiritual reading. I ask each of you what you read. Out of the forty-two only four were reading recognized spiritual books. Most of you admitted to reading nothing spiritual at all. Five of you drew you spirituality from a couple of curious Karls—Marx and Rahner.</blockquote>
<p>My dear ladies, you live in a community but you no longer belong to one. You are a group of independent spinsters held together, presumably, by habit and self-interest.</p>
<p>How have the Old Men crept into the walled garden where chaste Susanna once bathed so gaily in the fountain of eternal life? They have unbolted the door from within. The crowd has surged forward and trampled the flowers underfoot. The garden is a sea of mud. And where is Susanna? She has vanished in the crowd. But how have the Old Men got there?</p>
<p>I suppose the mass media play their part. As the taxi turned into your drive, I could see the horns of your aerial standing proudly above your convent. In your parlour I noticed a fairly wide selection of newspapers. I wonder how much peace of mind you reap from the mass media? Are journalists so incompetent that they never succeed in influencing your outlook? The mass media carry you to the summit of that exceeding high mountain whence you can see all the kingdoms of the world and the glory and shame thereof. What was a temptation to Jesus, is it none to you?</p>
<p>But the mass media alone would not account for the presence of the Old Men. They might make you less vigilant to guard the gate but would not let them in. However, both in your parlour and in your library I noticed a crowd of books and trendy reviews of theological fiction. How easy it is for the Old Men to slip in between the pages!</p>
<p>Fashionable theology, my dear ladies, is the worst conceivable guide to eternal life. Instead of stooping to scour that intellectual dustbin, why do you not stretch your souls to breaking point in the contemplation of God? You will learn more theology by adoring the Divine Reality than by absorbing men’s imaginings. Besides, prayer is an exercise at which you sex excels because it is an activity of the will. Although I have met some singularly stupid women, rarely have I met one who lacks courage and will-power. God has made you that way.</p>
<p>Why do you not steep your minds in the spiritual writers of your own sex? The great St Teresa is no more to be feared than the Little Flower is to be despised. There are Saints Catherine of Genoa and Siena as well as Catherine Labouré; Gertrude and Mechtchild of Helfta; Bridget of Sweden, Angela of Foligno, Colomba of Rieti, Juliana of Norwich, Jeanne de Chantal, Margaret Mary; and among lesser starts Lady Lucy Herbert and Cécile Bruyère—the list is endless. Myself, I have been more influenced by such women than by any man with the exception of St Francis de Sales, whose Treatise on the Love of God was written for a woman, Saint Chantal. Merely to see how these women prayed stretches the soul. We become capable in our little way of imitating the Mother of God: our sou too “magnifies the Lord” and our spirit too “exults in God our Saviour.” The world shrivels and depresses, the spirit exalts and expands. A little more spirituality may give you the energy to repair the garden wall, so that once more chaste Susanna can bathe gaily in the fountain of eternal life.</p>
<p>But I have no illusions, my dear ladies. What I say must seem to you as meaningless as the braying of Balaam’s ass. Like Balaam, it would require an angel to stand here with a drawn sword to you “to fall to the ground in worship” (Nbs 22-31).</p>
<p>— Bryan Houghton, <i>Mitre and Cloak</i>, 1979, pp. 173–176.</p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652742954928911051.post-83047920349986607692015-10-21T12:52:00.002-07:002016-07-16T07:16:36.004-07:00From a Longer Letter on Prayer<p>Certainly mental prayer and physical attitudes help or hinder prayer. We are trying to make love to God. The suitor who does nothing but moan, cadge and talk about himself is unlikely to be successful. “O my God! O my gout!” is not the best mental attitude in which to pray. The mind must be alert and fixed on the Beloved. Incidentally, “recollection” is not synonymous with “depression.” On the contrary, the more alert the mind the quicker it will become recollected. And this alertness and attention to the Beloved should find physical expression. Hence one should smile but keep one’s eyes shut.</p>
<p>Clearly the best positions for the body are to kneel or sit. Walter Hilton, if I remember correctly, was a great believer in sitting. Standing is a different matter. Not only is it uncomfortable after a little while but it is difficult to know what to do with the hands—the most expressive members of our body. To hold the arms out cruciform is one solution. To hold them out in front of one with elbows slightly bent and palms upwards, shoulder-high, in the attitude of begging, is another. These positions, however, require space and are blush-making in public. You will notice, incidentally, that the priest in the old Mass stood most of the time. Yes, but the movements of his hands were very carefully regulated. This was completely right. Also, he had his back to the congregation so as to allow him liberty in his facial expression.</p>
<p>It is obviously a minor point, but this is one of the details which make the New Ordo unprayable. The faithful are supposed to stand in a circle or semicircle around the Table. They are obliged to cling, as though drowning, to the chair in front or their arms droop at their sides or are crossed belligerently on their chest. Neither they nor the priest have liberty of facial expression. Since they are all staring at each other, only one expression is possible: that of total boredom. It proves beyond doubt that the authors of the New Order were liturgists but not men of prayer.</p>
<p>Concerning prayers of petition, it is quite easy to see the spirit in which they should be made. How horrid are children who always say “giv’me”; how charming are those who ask, “May I leave the table?” You can analyse the difference yourself.</p>
<p>— Byran Houghton, <i>Mitre and Crook</i>, 1979, pp. 171–172.</p>
Leo Wonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03599892456831926549noreply@blogger.com