On Friday B.A., my mum and I all sat around the big kitchen table in the cellar-level of the New Town Flat and had supper. I had finished and submitted three stories that day, so I was feeling tired but cheerful.
"Tomorrow let's do something en famille," said B.A. "That is, the three of us, since the rest of the famille is in Canada."
"What would you like to do, Mum?" I asked.
"What about a Fife Coastal Walk?" she proposed, and so on Saturday morning we took a bus to Elie, Fife and walked along the official Fife Coastal Path to St. Monans.
The weather was warm--but not too warm--and slightly breezy--but not too breezy, and the sun began to shine when we alighted in Elie. We bought sandwiches in the village deli--there being no supermarket--and sat on tussocks of grass, watching men in white playing cricket on the beach. Cricket is an unusual sport for Scotland, let alone cricket on the beach!
We had a marvellous walk, exploring one of the small ruined castles that abound in Scotland, and puzzling over wildflowers, racking our memories for their names: bewgloss, rosebay willowherb, red campion...
The sky and the Firth of Forth were many shades on the spectrum of Blue, and home seemed comfortable near on the other shore. Sometimes the path was quite steep, and I was out of breath, and it felt all very healthy. B.A. observed that his treatment hasn't left him tired out yet. He's got two weeks, two days to go.
When we got to St. Monans, we all had a look in the restored 14th century church, which has been Protestant since the Scottish Reformation. As is our wont, when alone in pre-Reformation Churches, B.A. and I turned to the easternmost wall and sang "Salve Regina". On this occasion, the church vibrated with the sound.
"The acoustics are great," Mum enthused.
We decided that we didn't have enough time to walk to Pittenweem and catch the 4:10 PM bus back to Edinburgh, so we got ice-cream cones or espresso in a teashop and visited a church jumble sale instead.
Thank you for all the prayers! B.A. was very moved last night when he read my last post and saw your comments.
Showing posts with label Tradition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tradition. Show all posts
Sunday, 22 July 2018
Friday, 6 April 2018
On Reporting News about the Pope
When I wrote for the Toronto Catholic Register, I was always conscious that it was a family newspaper that was read by people who knew my parents. It was available in the library of my nephew's elementary school and in the libraries of the two colleges I call my almas matrae. My favourite professors did not read my column, but the late janitor of the theologate did, bless him.
Therefore, I knew that the vast majority of my readers were "simple faithful", which is not an insult but praise. Most faithful Catholics do not bother their heads with church politics or theology but try to love God and their neighbour and do the right thing instead. Simple, in this context, means honest, straightforward, humble. And I did my best not to disturb my readers' simple faith
After the Star of Bethlehem episode, that is. I once wrote an article about how there might not have been a Star of Bethlehem, and a distressed member of the simple faithful, a friend in her late twenties, asked me how the Three Wise Men had found Baby Jesus then. After a second, during which a smarty-pants answer trembled on my tongue, I said instead, "That's a very good question."
At the time I was not a trad; like many Lonerganians, I thought I was in Lonergan's "not numerous center." It was not until I went to Boston College that I knew I was perceived to be a ultraconservative, that rival factions of the American Catholic Church hated each other with a white-hot hate, and that I was now in left-wing Catholic HQ.
One target of left-wing Catholic hate at the time was Cardinal Ratzinger, whom many feared, and the hate blazed up into a fiery furnace when he was elected Pope. When the haters discovered that none of them had been fired, hatred simmered down to contempt. The contempt for "Rome" was like a poison gas floating through the halls. The paranoia, too, was contagious. One of my fellow PhD students broke out in a welter of fear because disgruntled conservative undergrads had written a letter protesting some inter-religious event or other.
Having been a Catholic tribalist and triumphalist all my life, that was all very hellish for me. And hating the hate with all my heart, I never imagined that twelve years later I would be in the thick of the Catholic civil war. But just the other day I wrote a summary of a dozen articles reacting to the news that Benedict's successor had allegedly told a journalist pal that hell did not exist and that, instead of denying this with guns blazing, the Vatican had politely asked the world to discount the journalist pal's punctuation.
Yesterday morning I discovered that the Drudge Report had linked to this article. Yesterday evening I discovered that my parents may have read it. At any rate, they had heard the "Pope says there's no hell" story, and that made me very sad. It's only now that I realise that they must have heard about it from the Canadian television news last weekend.
It seems that the simple faithful cannot help but be scandalised after all. Only the really obtuse (or, to be charitable, the really frightened) can keep yelling "Fake News" at this point. We have a crisis on our hands, and it's not because there's a big anti-Francis plot that began the day he was elected. It's because there was a big anti-Doctrine plot hatched long before Francis was elected.
Crises often have good theological and doctrinal outcomes. In the first centuries of Church life, Christians battled each other in an attempt to get at the truths of faith. The truths were unchanging, but we didn't understand them right from Pentecost Day onward. The exact relationship of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost was a problem that had to be worked out. The role of the Son's human mother is salvation history had also to be worked out, and this was only finally pronounced upon in 1950.
A good that may come out of the present crisis would be a better understanding of what a pope is and what the papacy is. The star power of Saint John Paul II blinded many of us to the dangers of overemphasising the person of the pope, and I see now that my convert mother was right to hold the papacy a little at arm's length.
We simple faithful were very proud of JP2 as a world figure, as an intellectual, and as a defender of deeply unfashionable Catholic sexual and reproductive ethics, that most of us weren't interested in discussing any theological defects he might have had. Had the internet been born 20 years earlier, there would have been a lot more screaming about his take on inter-religious dialogue, not to mention the excommunication of Archbishop Lefebvre.
It is probable that Pope Francis does not believe the Catholic faith the way that Benedict XVI believes, and Saint John Paul II believed, the Catholic faith. That's a problem. However, the bright side is that this is an opportunity for Catholics to prove to other Christians that we don't, actually, worship the Pope.
Almost twenty years ago, on my first visit to Rome, I overheard a Protestant tourist tell a nonbeliever that the difference between Catholics and Protestants was that Protestants believed the Bible but Catholics just did whatever the Pope told them to do. I was so utterly furious, I didn't know what to say. Besides, it is quite true that we expect the Pope---in communion with all the other Popes, with all the saints, doctors and Fathers of the Church---to mediate Scripture to us and help us understand how to be faithful to it through every age.
But just because we expect the Pope to do that doesn't mean he will. We have had atrocious Popes before, as historians are happy to point out, and we may have atrocious Popes again. We may have an atrocious Pope now, but it generally doesn't do to call living Popes names.
So that is more-or-less what I would say to the simple faithful. The Pope doesn't matter as much as Doctrine matters. The Pope is supposed to protect Doctrine, not Doctrine the Pope's relationship with his family, his friends and The New York Times. Therefore, one should listen to the Pope when he tells the mafia that they're in danger of hell, and one should not listen to the Pope when he tells Eugenio Scalfari that hell does not exist.
Therefore, I knew that the vast majority of my readers were "simple faithful", which is not an insult but praise. Most faithful Catholics do not bother their heads with church politics or theology but try to love God and their neighbour and do the right thing instead. Simple, in this context, means honest, straightforward, humble. And I did my best not to disturb my readers' simple faith
After the Star of Bethlehem episode, that is. I once wrote an article about how there might not have been a Star of Bethlehem, and a distressed member of the simple faithful, a friend in her late twenties, asked me how the Three Wise Men had found Baby Jesus then. After a second, during which a smarty-pants answer trembled on my tongue, I said instead, "That's a very good question."
At the time I was not a trad; like many Lonerganians, I thought I was in Lonergan's "not numerous center." It was not until I went to Boston College that I knew I was perceived to be a ultraconservative, that rival factions of the American Catholic Church hated each other with a white-hot hate, and that I was now in left-wing Catholic HQ.
One target of left-wing Catholic hate at the time was Cardinal Ratzinger, whom many feared, and the hate blazed up into a fiery furnace when he was elected Pope. When the haters discovered that none of them had been fired, hatred simmered down to contempt. The contempt for "Rome" was like a poison gas floating through the halls. The paranoia, too, was contagious. One of my fellow PhD students broke out in a welter of fear because disgruntled conservative undergrads had written a letter protesting some inter-religious event or other.
Having been a Catholic tribalist and triumphalist all my life, that was all very hellish for me. And hating the hate with all my heart, I never imagined that twelve years later I would be in the thick of the Catholic civil war. But just the other day I wrote a summary of a dozen articles reacting to the news that Benedict's successor had allegedly told a journalist pal that hell did not exist and that, instead of denying this with guns blazing, the Vatican had politely asked the world to discount the journalist pal's punctuation.
Yesterday morning I discovered that the Drudge Report had linked to this article. Yesterday evening I discovered that my parents may have read it. At any rate, they had heard the "Pope says there's no hell" story, and that made me very sad. It's only now that I realise that they must have heard about it from the Canadian television news last weekend.
It seems that the simple faithful cannot help but be scandalised after all. Only the really obtuse (or, to be charitable, the really frightened) can keep yelling "Fake News" at this point. We have a crisis on our hands, and it's not because there's a big anti-Francis plot that began the day he was elected. It's because there was a big anti-Doctrine plot hatched long before Francis was elected.
Crises often have good theological and doctrinal outcomes. In the first centuries of Church life, Christians battled each other in an attempt to get at the truths of faith. The truths were unchanging, but we didn't understand them right from Pentecost Day onward. The exact relationship of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost was a problem that had to be worked out. The role of the Son's human mother is salvation history had also to be worked out, and this was only finally pronounced upon in 1950.
A good that may come out of the present crisis would be a better understanding of what a pope is and what the papacy is. The star power of Saint John Paul II blinded many of us to the dangers of overemphasising the person of the pope, and I see now that my convert mother was right to hold the papacy a little at arm's length.
We simple faithful were very proud of JP2 as a world figure, as an intellectual, and as a defender of deeply unfashionable Catholic sexual and reproductive ethics, that most of us weren't interested in discussing any theological defects he might have had. Had the internet been born 20 years earlier, there would have been a lot more screaming about his take on inter-religious dialogue, not to mention the excommunication of Archbishop Lefebvre.
It is probable that Pope Francis does not believe the Catholic faith the way that Benedict XVI believes, and Saint John Paul II believed, the Catholic faith. That's a problem. However, the bright side is that this is an opportunity for Catholics to prove to other Christians that we don't, actually, worship the Pope.
Almost twenty years ago, on my first visit to Rome, I overheard a Protestant tourist tell a nonbeliever that the difference between Catholics and Protestants was that Protestants believed the Bible but Catholics just did whatever the Pope told them to do. I was so utterly furious, I didn't know what to say. Besides, it is quite true that we expect the Pope---in communion with all the other Popes, with all the saints, doctors and Fathers of the Church---to mediate Scripture to us and help us understand how to be faithful to it through every age.
But just because we expect the Pope to do that doesn't mean he will. We have had atrocious Popes before, as historians are happy to point out, and we may have atrocious Popes again. We may have an atrocious Pope now, but it generally doesn't do to call living Popes names.
So that is more-or-less what I would say to the simple faithful. The Pope doesn't matter as much as Doctrine matters. The Pope is supposed to protect Doctrine, not Doctrine the Pope's relationship with his family, his friends and The New York Times. Therefore, one should listen to the Pope when he tells the mafia that they're in danger of hell, and one should not listen to the Pope when he tells Eugenio Scalfari that hell does not exist.
Friday, 23 March 2018
Riverdale Outrageously Appropriates My Culture
Poor Addicted Seraphic
This morning I took to the internet to find out if other people are have my substance abuse problem, the substance being "Riverdale". It was a relief to find it described as a "phenomenon" and discover that college kids leave clubs in time to get back to the dorm to watch it. Also a relief: the average age of viewers is 42.
Various entertainment writers ponder why the show is such a hit amongst todays TV-adverse teens, but so far none of them mention dopamine-induced-by-rapid-editing-and-music. But among the various theories is that the "Riverdale" writing team reads internet commentary by fans on the series and tailors their writing accordingly.
Once again I should point out that "Riverdale" is not a show you want influencing your children. Possibly you should be 42 before you watch it, or at least old enough not to compare real-life love interests unfavourably to Archie and Jughead.
Critics seem most disturbed by the astonishingly horrible (but creative!) punishment Jughead and the under-18 wing of the Southside Serpents mete upon the gang's super-crooked female lawyer. However, I think it very unlikely that the vast majority of today's children are ever going to be tempted into such scenarios. They will, however, have to cope with a world that worships sex, and all the teenagers in Riverdale worship sex: ordinary sex, same-sex sex, dressing up in costumes sex.
(Pregnancy, by the way, is a mysterious thing that just happens to the occasional girl, like being pooped on by a pigeon flying overhead.)
Sex as Religion
In Riverdale sex is a religion with excellent ecumenical dialogue between most of its branches. Sex without love is a-okay, if that's your thing, but the attitude of Riverdale's heroes towards actual prostitution remains ambiguous. The old-fashioned kind is considered extremely icky, whereas internet stuff is, somehow, merely edgy. Darling Betty, who is supposed to be the Good Girl, is drawn to the dark cult of stranger sex, as long as it is just online.
(Is a passionate relationship with the tortured leader of the Southside Serpent Under-18's not enough? Dear heavens.)
But for some reason, which I still cannot comprehend, the writers of ""Riverdale" have decided to introduce a rival religion to sex, without actually daring to underscore its formerly famous ethical objections to sex between anyone but the married. That rival religion is, of course, Catholicism.
It is, however, Catholicism as few Catholics would recognise it.
In Season One, we see flashes of gold crosses on Betty and Betty's mother and, of course, an outrageously stereotyped--verging on a hate crime--Catholic home for unwed mothers and juvenile delinquents, complete with some nuns in post-Vatican 2 habits and others in pre-Vatican 2 habits. One gets the sense, however, that Betty and her family are not themselves Catholics. It's just that Catholics cornered the local homes for unwed mothers market twenty-five year years ago.
In Season Two the treatment of Catholicism becomes utterly ridiculous. We have the Latino Lodges to thank for this. Oh, and The Godfather, naturally.
1. Disrespect for the Queen of Heaven
First, when Veronica's mother goes to church to pray for a friend, she directs her gaze not towards the Blessed Sacrament or a crucifix, but to the worst statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary I have yet seen on television. The statue has big white eyes that I would find comical had I no love whatsoever for the BVM. As it is, I am aggrieved. Nobody would paint eyes like that on a portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr., so why is it okay to portray any Catholic saint, let alone the most important Catholic saint, that way?
2. So, like, our Sacraments are sacred, you know?
Second, when Veronica's parents decide she should be confirmed, it becomes immediately apparent that the writers have absolutely no idea what a Roman Catholic Confirmation is supposed to look like. It's as if they saw some Puppet Masses on Youtube and, while tossing the puppets, retained their spirit.
This could be why Veronica's Confirmation features a tailor-made white dress instead of an alb and Josie of Josie and the Pussy-Cats singing "Bittersweet Symphony" mid-way through Mass.
Reducing the Sacrament of Confirmation a Latino coming-of-age ritual is itself offensive, but this is mildly mitigated by the fact that in Latin America and the USA, Confirmation often is reduced to a Latino coming-of-age ritual. However, there is no getting around the really horrible scenes around Veronica's reception of the Sacrament of Reconciliation and the Blessed Sacrament.
I fast-forwarded through most of Veronica's bizarre Confirmation Mass because I just couldn't bear it. Her Confession was horror enough. First, you would think that she might have mentioned all the premarital sex she'd had, but no. Mustn't frighten the audience by suggesting for a single second that there might have been something wrong with it. She doesn't go much into her Mean Girl past, either. Veronica's idea of sin is having disrespected her gangster parents a few times. She made a much better confession to Betty in Season One.
But what is seriously awful is that Veronica asks the walking stereotype Monsignor Murphy for counsel, and he refuses to give it to her. He just slaps her with a bunch of Hail Marys and Our Fathers, sketches an absolution, and that is that. From any Catholic point of view, this is outrageous.
And then Veronica takes Communion and rejects Satan, etc., etc., and a golden light LITERALLY shines on her from above.
3. Catholics as Superstitious Butt-covering Hypocrites
Third, before Veronica's Confirmation, she has a sort of hen party with her female relations, who talk about how they depend on their Catholic faith for hope that their criminal husbands come home alive and to assuage their consciences for all the bad stuff that they do.
To quote the entire generation of North Americans Millennials, that is just SO offensive.
I cannot imagine how one attempts to convince the writers of "Riverdale" not to reduce the religion of over one billion people worldwide, whose rituals are not a secret and can be seen anywhere, to an offensive cartoon. I am hoping that amongst the social media movers and shakers, there are devout Catholic fans who write "Come on, guys. Don't do that to my religion."
A Modest Proposal
Maybe Father James Martin, SJ, could stage an intervention, which is a mind-boggling thought, but when I think about it, he's the celebrity priest Hollywood is most likely to have heard of, isn't he? And "Riverdale" is just weird enough that I can imagine Father Martin making a cameo appearance.
And to get the writers' attention, here's for the Google search: "Riverdale appropriates my culture."
This morning I took to the internet to find out if other people are have my substance abuse problem, the substance being "Riverdale". It was a relief to find it described as a "phenomenon" and discover that college kids leave clubs in time to get back to the dorm to watch it. Also a relief: the average age of viewers is 42.
Various entertainment writers ponder why the show is such a hit amongst todays TV-adverse teens, but so far none of them mention dopamine-induced-by-rapid-editing-and-music. But among the various theories is that the "Riverdale" writing team reads internet commentary by fans on the series and tailors their writing accordingly.
Once again I should point out that "Riverdale" is not a show you want influencing your children. Possibly you should be 42 before you watch it, or at least old enough not to compare real-life love interests unfavourably to Archie and Jughead.
Critics seem most disturbed by the astonishingly horrible (but creative!) punishment Jughead and the under-18 wing of the Southside Serpents mete upon the gang's super-crooked female lawyer. However, I think it very unlikely that the vast majority of today's children are ever going to be tempted into such scenarios. They will, however, have to cope with a world that worships sex, and all the teenagers in Riverdale worship sex: ordinary sex, same-sex sex, dressing up in costumes sex.
(Pregnancy, by the way, is a mysterious thing that just happens to the occasional girl, like being pooped on by a pigeon flying overhead.)
Sex as Religion
In Riverdale sex is a religion with excellent ecumenical dialogue between most of its branches. Sex without love is a-okay, if that's your thing, but the attitude of Riverdale's heroes towards actual prostitution remains ambiguous. The old-fashioned kind is considered extremely icky, whereas internet stuff is, somehow, merely edgy. Darling Betty, who is supposed to be the Good Girl, is drawn to the dark cult of stranger sex, as long as it is just online.
(Is a passionate relationship with the tortured leader of the Southside Serpent Under-18's not enough? Dear heavens.)
But for some reason, which I still cannot comprehend, the writers of ""Riverdale" have decided to introduce a rival religion to sex, without actually daring to underscore its formerly famous ethical objections to sex between anyone but the married. That rival religion is, of course, Catholicism.
It is, however, Catholicism as few Catholics would recognise it.
In Season One, we see flashes of gold crosses on Betty and Betty's mother and, of course, an outrageously stereotyped--verging on a hate crime--Catholic home for unwed mothers and juvenile delinquents, complete with some nuns in post-Vatican 2 habits and others in pre-Vatican 2 habits. One gets the sense, however, that Betty and her family are not themselves Catholics. It's just that Catholics cornered the local homes for unwed mothers market twenty-five year years ago.
In Season Two the treatment of Catholicism becomes utterly ridiculous. We have the Latino Lodges to thank for this. Oh, and The Godfather, naturally.
1. Disrespect for the Queen of Heaven
First, when Veronica's mother goes to church to pray for a friend, she directs her gaze not towards the Blessed Sacrament or a crucifix, but to the worst statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary I have yet seen on television. The statue has big white eyes that I would find comical had I no love whatsoever for the BVM. As it is, I am aggrieved. Nobody would paint eyes like that on a portrait of Martin Luther King, Jr., so why is it okay to portray any Catholic saint, let alone the most important Catholic saint, that way?
2. So, like, our Sacraments are sacred, you know?
Second, when Veronica's parents decide she should be confirmed, it becomes immediately apparent that the writers have absolutely no idea what a Roman Catholic Confirmation is supposed to look like. It's as if they saw some Puppet Masses on Youtube and, while tossing the puppets, retained their spirit.
This could be why Veronica's Confirmation features a tailor-made white dress instead of an alb and Josie of Josie and the Pussy-Cats singing "Bittersweet Symphony" mid-way through Mass.
Reducing the Sacrament of Confirmation a Latino coming-of-age ritual is itself offensive, but this is mildly mitigated by the fact that in Latin America and the USA, Confirmation often is reduced to a Latino coming-of-age ritual. However, there is no getting around the really horrible scenes around Veronica's reception of the Sacrament of Reconciliation and the Blessed Sacrament.
I fast-forwarded through most of Veronica's bizarre Confirmation Mass because I just couldn't bear it. Her Confession was horror enough. First, you would think that she might have mentioned all the premarital sex she'd had, but no. Mustn't frighten the audience by suggesting for a single second that there might have been something wrong with it. She doesn't go much into her Mean Girl past, either. Veronica's idea of sin is having disrespected her gangster parents a few times. She made a much better confession to Betty in Season One.
But what is seriously awful is that Veronica asks the walking stereotype Monsignor Murphy for counsel, and he refuses to give it to her. He just slaps her with a bunch of Hail Marys and Our Fathers, sketches an absolution, and that is that. From any Catholic point of view, this is outrageous.
And then Veronica takes Communion and rejects Satan, etc., etc., and a golden light LITERALLY shines on her from above.
3. Catholics as Superstitious Butt-covering Hypocrites
Third, before Veronica's Confirmation, she has a sort of hen party with her female relations, who talk about how they depend on their Catholic faith for hope that their criminal husbands come home alive and to assuage their consciences for all the bad stuff that they do.
To quote the entire generation of North Americans Millennials, that is just SO offensive.
I cannot imagine how one attempts to convince the writers of "Riverdale" not to reduce the religion of over one billion people worldwide, whose rituals are not a secret and can be seen anywhere, to an offensive cartoon. I am hoping that amongst the social media movers and shakers, there are devout Catholic fans who write "Come on, guys. Don't do that to my religion."
A Modest Proposal
Maybe Father James Martin, SJ, could stage an intervention, which is a mind-boggling thought, but when I think about it, he's the celebrity priest Hollywood is most likely to have heard of, isn't he? And "Riverdale" is just weird enough that I can imagine Father Martin making a cameo appearance.
And to get the writers' attention, here's for the Google search: "Riverdale appropriates my culture."
Wednesday, 25 October 2017
Benedict Ambrose Well Enough to Come Home
Just a quick post of thanksgiving to God and everyone who prayed, emailed, sent a card or gift, made a donation to the Baklinski fund (which made B.A. feel useful), sponsored a Mass, brought my husband's case to the attention of nuns... Thank you all very, very much.
Today the surgeon called me to say that B.A. can come home tomorrow. Mr S is very pleased--and surprised--by B.A.'s rapid progress. I never really know how to express this with exact doctrinal correctness (given than God is both immutable and apparently moved by prayers), but I am putting B.A.'s recovery down to God's will, helped along/participated in by everyone who prayed for B.A. and me.
So again thank you!
P.S. Apologies for not answering all the emails. I DID read them, and I was grateful for them, but I didn't always have time to respond. I hope you understand.
Today the surgeon called me to say that B.A. can come home tomorrow. Mr S is very pleased--and surprised--by B.A.'s rapid progress. I never really know how to express this with exact doctrinal correctness (given than God is both immutable and apparently moved by prayers), but I am putting B.A.'s recovery down to God's will, helped along/participated in by everyone who prayed for B.A. and me.
So again thank you!
P.S. Apologies for not answering all the emails. I DID read them, and I was grateful for them, but I didn't always have time to respond. I hope you understand.
Friday, 26 May 2017
Traddery Meets Polish Politics!
Good heavens. At the end of a tough week, an astonishing alignment in the constellations of my interests:
Polish Prime Minister's Son to Celebrate Traditional Latin Mass.
H/T My source the Baron.
Polish Prime Minister's Son to Celebrate Traditional Latin Mass.
H/T My source the Baron.
Monday, 15 May 2017
The Benedict Option
.....is a fascinating book. I read it in great gulps. There was my life, there on the page! Well, sort of. There was a lot about the Monks of Norcia, some stuff on homeschooling and lots of stuff about the difficulty of getting ahead in academia when you don't toe the party line.
Anyway Rod Dreher's The Benedict Option is DEFINITELY worth a read, and the buzz will continue in the conservative and traditionalist Catholic media for some time. Hopefully the trads will say a lot more than "We've been saying this for twenty years, where has he been, etc, etc., grumble."
No link, for you really should buy it from a Catholic bookshop, not Amazon. That said, I bought mine over Amazon. There is no Catholic bookshop in Edinburgh. Isn't that CRAZY? But we really are a tiny minority here.
Anyway Rod Dreher's The Benedict Option is DEFINITELY worth a read, and the buzz will continue in the conservative and traditionalist Catholic media for some time. Hopefully the trads will say a lot more than "We've been saying this for twenty years, where has he been, etc, etc., grumble."
No link, for you really should buy it from a Catholic bookshop, not Amazon. That said, I bought mine over Amazon. There is no Catholic bookshop in Edinburgh. Isn't that CRAZY? But we really are a tiny minority here.
Saturday, 13 May 2017
100th Anniversary of Our Lady of Fatima
Me, I got up at 6:47 AM to get myself to the Extraordinary Form of the Mass, only to discover when I got to the chapel that Mass had been shifted to another town today! I had been told--but I forgot.
So I went to 9 AM Polish Mass at the Cathedral, and that was all right.
But as the 100th Anniversary of the Apparitions at Fatima--now is as good a time as any to tell you that I have a new job: full-time "Culture of Life" reporter for Life Site News.
If there was ever a time I needed a full-time job, this is it! My heart broke when I found out how fervently Benedict Ambrose was praying that I got this job. It's not that we're in trouble; it's just that there's a lot of uncertainty in our lives, and an extra full-time income will do something to ease the pressure. Our GP told B.A. the most important thing for him to recover from is operation was to rest, but he's back at work and his mind has not been at rest.
Meanwhile, I am looking forward to going out into the wider world and collecting stories on a daily basis. It's a different craft from blogging and column-writing, certainly, but I look forward to the mind-sharpening it involves.
Thursday, 11 May 2017
Trads Squabble Over Numbers
England's Dr. Shaw appears incensed here over America's Monsignor Pope's article there. For the life of me, I don't understand why Dr. Shaw sounds so thunderous. Clearly Monsignor is just feeling a bit down.
I think the old belief that if all Catholics saw how beautiful the Traditional Rite was, they would flock in their thousands, was utterly naive.
First of all, most Catholics don't go to Mass at all. If they go, they go for C&E and are out the door before the last notes of the final hymn have faded away. Duty done (or so they think)--toodle-oo!
Second, those who do go to Mass are stuck in their ways and really do enjoy the rhythm of the three hymn sandwich. They enjoy seeing the same faces in the parking lot and in the hall afterwards for coffee (if applicable). A number of White Anglo-Saxon Catholics in my native Toronto are post-1969 converts from Protestantism, and so the Novus Ordo may remind them comfortably of the male-led Protestant services of their youth. If they're like my mother, they enjoy belting out the hymns, many of which they belted back in their Protestant days.
A MIGH-TEE FOR-OR-TRESS I-IS OUR GOD
DA DA DA DA DA diddee DA-AH DA DA !!!!
After twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years in ye olde parish church, these Catholics are not budging. It would take a catastrophe of pastor-going-to-jail-for-you-know-what proportions to inspire them to leave, and sadly when Catholics are utterly fed up, they don't usually make the switch to the TLM: they stop going to Mass at all. For fifty years, they've been told the SSPX are a dangerous pack of weirdos, and so anyone who also loves the Mass of Ages must also be a weirdo. Never mind that the priests who told them that were later discovered to be (A) homosexual (B) robbing the till (C) living in a mobile home with a skinny divorcée or (D) now celebrating the Mass of Ages themselves.
However, there are thousands of people who get curious about religion, so there are all kinds of ways to promote the TLM, if you feel called. I do it myself in my own little way by subverting the Angry Trad stereotype. But, of course, there is:
1. The Appeal to the Real. "If you want to know what Catholicism REALLY is," you can say to the curious out religion-shopping, "you should come to the Traditional Latin Mass because it does not water down the Catholicism unlike the priest at Saint Moping who gets his sermons out of Chicken Soup for the Soul, " etc., etc.
Be careful how you phrase this argument, however, or you may come across as someone not imbued with the love of Christ. Perhaps it might be best to say that traditional Catholics have a very strong devotion to Christ Present on the Altar, and our liturgy reflects this. Our Mass is more about God than about community; the community part happens afterwardswhen we all get smashed on G &Ts.
2. The Appeal to the Snobbery. "If you like Evelyn Waugh, you'll LOVE the TLM," you could say, although I'd rather you didn't. There's quite enough lower-middle-class-boys-feeling-bad-about-it hanging out at the TLM just to feel posh. What they think of the honest skilled tradesmen and horny-handed sons of toil also at the TLM is a question I don't want answered. What the honest skilled tradesmen and horny-handed sons of toil think of all the red corduroy trousers I shudder to think. On the other hand, they are probably too holy to notice the trousers at all.
3. The Appeal to the Senses. Suddenly I remember an Anglican suitor who was tempted to cross the Tiber as as to win my then-fair hand. I warned him that he ought to come to my (ugly, modernist) parish church and hear the (ghastly) cantor first.
People who really care about music and art will prefer the TLM to the NO unless they have jobs providing the music and art at the NO. BTW, I'd love to see some statistics on what percentage of church musicians go to the NO when they are not actually performing at it.
4. The Appeal to the Feminine. It may be tricky to win women away from all their fun activities at Saint Moping. Let's face it. Women run the NO, and men are happy to let them do it. The NO can be pretty boring, so NO-goers jazz it up for themselves by volunteering to DO stuff. I've sat in the important chair for lay-led worship, and let me tell you, the hour just whizzes by when you're the lady in charge. What can be done to overcome the temptations of busy-ness and lady priesting?
It may sound trivial, but I think ye olde lace mantilla is a step forward, especially now that we're being bombarded with propaganda for the hijab. I cannot get my mind around the role of the hair-hating hijab in modern life, but westerners associate lace veils with brides and widows, who are (or once were) semi-sacred. Imagine you could assert your feminine genius just by putting on a lace veil and looking restful. And imagine that just by doing this, you could inspire the men to do all the work they currently aren't doing, like going to the seminary and becoming priests.
Men (thinking): Goodness gracious, Mrs. McLean looks so beautiful and restful in her black lace mantilla that I am hopelessly in love with her. What can I do? I know: I shall sublimate this forbidden passion in my studies for the priesthood. Off to Wiegratzbad I go.
By the way, the TLM is the one place I can think of where young women can silently and modestly indicate that they are Single, and the married (or convent-bound) can subtly indicate that they aren't available. One of the quieter dynamics of the TLM is the bachelors checking out the white mantillas. Oh, the sweet!
5. The Appeal to the Masculine: As girls becoming altar servers lead to an exodus of the boys, keep your ears sharp for stories of disappointed mothers at St Moping. No doubt the NO was less dull when they could watch their little sons going to and fro. "Maybe he would feel more comfortable at Sacred Trad," you could say. "Only boys serve there."
The same goes for mothers at the end of their rope with teenage sons who refuse to go to Mass at all. "Maybe he would feel more comfortable at Sacred Trad," you could say again. "Men outnumber women 2:1 there. And they don't feel pressured to sing."
6. The Appeal to the Non-Singers: Protestants and ex-Protestants love to sing, which is no doubt why we have so much congregational singing in the Novus Ordo. But many people simply to not like to sing, or would rather listen to good singing than to their own sad speaking-voice efforts.
(It is not true, by the way, that everyone can sing. It has to be taught. I realized this when I listened to the contrast between Scottish children of yore singing the old school song and their replacements singing the new school song, which includes the phrase "Assallaam-u-aleikum." The Scottish children of yore sang like soprano angels. The Scottish children of today sang with their speaking voices--as they no doubt do at the Novus Ordo, when they are at the Novus Ordo, which is but rarely, not only because only 16% of Scots are Catholics but because only 25% of Scottish Catholics go to church.)
Non-singers--which certainly must include most Cradle-Catholic men--are relieved of pressure to sing at the TLM, especially when there are paid professionals to do it for them.
I think the old belief that if all Catholics saw how beautiful the Traditional Rite was, they would flock in their thousands, was utterly naive.
First of all, most Catholics don't go to Mass at all. If they go, they go for C&E and are out the door before the last notes of the final hymn have faded away. Duty done (or so they think)--toodle-oo!
Second, those who do go to Mass are stuck in their ways and really do enjoy the rhythm of the three hymn sandwich. They enjoy seeing the same faces in the parking lot and in the hall afterwards for coffee (if applicable). A number of White Anglo-Saxon Catholics in my native Toronto are post-1969 converts from Protestantism, and so the Novus Ordo may remind them comfortably of the male-led Protestant services of their youth. If they're like my mother, they enjoy belting out the hymns, many of which they belted back in their Protestant days.
A MIGH-TEE FOR-OR-TRESS I-IS OUR GOD
DA DA DA DA DA diddee DA-AH DA DA !!!!
After twenty, thirty, forty, fifty years in ye olde parish church, these Catholics are not budging. It would take a catastrophe of pastor-going-to-jail-for-you-know-what proportions to inspire them to leave, and sadly when Catholics are utterly fed up, they don't usually make the switch to the TLM: they stop going to Mass at all. For fifty years, they've been told the SSPX are a dangerous pack of weirdos, and so anyone who also loves the Mass of Ages must also be a weirdo. Never mind that the priests who told them that were later discovered to be (A) homosexual (B) robbing the till (C) living in a mobile home with a skinny divorcée or (D) now celebrating the Mass of Ages themselves.
However, there are thousands of people who get curious about religion, so there are all kinds of ways to promote the TLM, if you feel called. I do it myself in my own little way by subverting the Angry Trad stereotype. But, of course, there is:
1. The Appeal to the Real. "If you want to know what Catholicism REALLY is," you can say to the curious out religion-shopping, "you should come to the Traditional Latin Mass because it does not water down the Catholicism unlike the priest at Saint Moping who gets his sermons out of Chicken Soup for the Soul, " etc., etc.
Be careful how you phrase this argument, however, or you may come across as someone not imbued with the love of Christ. Perhaps it might be best to say that traditional Catholics have a very strong devotion to Christ Present on the Altar, and our liturgy reflects this. Our Mass is more about God than about community; the community part happens afterwards
2. The Appeal to the Snobbery. "If you like Evelyn Waugh, you'll LOVE the TLM," you could say, although I'd rather you didn't. There's quite enough lower-middle-class-boys-feeling-bad-about-it hanging out at the TLM just to feel posh. What they think of the honest skilled tradesmen and horny-handed sons of toil also at the TLM is a question I don't want answered. What the honest skilled tradesmen and horny-handed sons of toil think of all the red corduroy trousers I shudder to think. On the other hand, they are probably too holy to notice the trousers at all.
3. The Appeal to the Senses. Suddenly I remember an Anglican suitor who was tempted to cross the Tiber as as to win my then-fair hand. I warned him that he ought to come to my (ugly, modernist) parish church and hear the (ghastly) cantor first.
People who really care about music and art will prefer the TLM to the NO unless they have jobs providing the music and art at the NO. BTW, I'd love to see some statistics on what percentage of church musicians go to the NO when they are not actually performing at it.
4. The Appeal to the Feminine. It may be tricky to win women away from all their fun activities at Saint Moping. Let's face it. Women run the NO, and men are happy to let them do it. The NO can be pretty boring, so NO-goers jazz it up for themselves by volunteering to DO stuff. I've sat in the important chair for lay-led worship, and let me tell you, the hour just whizzes by when you're the lady in charge. What can be done to overcome the temptations of busy-ness and lady priesting?
It may sound trivial, but I think ye olde lace mantilla is a step forward, especially now that we're being bombarded with propaganda for the hijab. I cannot get my mind around the role of the hair-hating hijab in modern life, but westerners associate lace veils with brides and widows, who are (or once were) semi-sacred. Imagine you could assert your feminine genius just by putting on a lace veil and looking restful. And imagine that just by doing this, you could inspire the men to do all the work they currently aren't doing, like going to the seminary and becoming priests.
Men (thinking): Goodness gracious, Mrs. McLean looks so beautiful and restful in her black lace mantilla that I am hopelessly in love with her. What can I do? I know: I shall sublimate this forbidden passion in my studies for the priesthood. Off to Wiegratzbad I go.
By the way, the TLM is the one place I can think of where young women can silently and modestly indicate that they are Single, and the married (or convent-bound) can subtly indicate that they aren't available. One of the quieter dynamics of the TLM is the bachelors checking out the white mantillas. Oh, the sweet!
5. The Appeal to the Masculine: As girls becoming altar servers lead to an exodus of the boys, keep your ears sharp for stories of disappointed mothers at St Moping. No doubt the NO was less dull when they could watch their little sons going to and fro. "Maybe he would feel more comfortable at Sacred Trad," you could say. "Only boys serve there."
The same goes for mothers at the end of their rope with teenage sons who refuse to go to Mass at all. "Maybe he would feel more comfortable at Sacred Trad," you could say again. "Men outnumber women 2:1 there. And they don't feel pressured to sing."
6. The Appeal to the Non-Singers: Protestants and ex-Protestants love to sing, which is no doubt why we have so much congregational singing in the Novus Ordo. But many people simply to not like to sing, or would rather listen to good singing than to their own sad speaking-voice efforts.
(It is not true, by the way, that everyone can sing. It has to be taught. I realized this when I listened to the contrast between Scottish children of yore singing the old school song and their replacements singing the new school song, which includes the phrase "Assallaam-u-aleikum." The Scottish children of yore sang like soprano angels. The Scottish children of today sang with their speaking voices--as they no doubt do at the Novus Ordo, when they are at the Novus Ordo, which is but rarely, not only because only 16% of Scots are Catholics but because only 25% of Scottish Catholics go to church.)
Non-singers--which certainly must include most Cradle-Catholic men--are relieved of pressure to sing at the TLM, especially when there are paid professionals to do it for them.
Monday, 8 May 2017
The Thriller in Mantilla
After bragging about going to the TLM in a coin-sized fascinator, I felt guilty.
My mini-hat is a lovely wee object, but I'm worried it makes me look like the proverbial organ-grinder's monkey and, besides, nobody else in my local TLM community wears a fascinator to Mass. One dashing young matron wears a smart pillbox, and there is a beret or two, and the Frenchwomen go bareheaded, but mostly the women and girls wear mantillas. The girls and maiden aunts wear white mantillas, and the married women wear black. Well, one married woman wears blue because she's Italian and doesn't want to look like the proverbial Italian widow. Me, I don't want to stick out as the one woman at Mass wearing a fascinator, just as when at the NO, I don't want to stick out as the one woman in a manilla.
The Sunday after my bragging, I noticed how pretty many of the mantillas are, but most of all, I was haunted by the private revelation of some girl on the FSSP Supporters Facebook page that her veil had found favour with the Lord. Yes, this was a complete stranger writing on the internet about a personal and private locution, but it made me think all the same.
Is Our Lord and Saviour pleased when, out of respect for His presence in the monstrance or tabernacle, we women wear veils? I don't know, but so far nobody has claimed it makes Him mad. Saint Paul, naturally, was all for them and, if this is the sort of thing saints think about in heaven, perhaps he still is. For a contemporary point of view, here's what Raymond Cardinal Burke had to say on the matter.
I am not sure my husband would care one way or the other what I wore on my head to Mass although he might find it odd if I deliberately stopped wearing anything on my head. And he did not kick up a fuss when I presented him with a bill and asked him to write a cheque for £30 to a mantilla maker.
For, lo, I looked online and discovered Zélie's Roses. A Mrs D. of Oxfordshire, England blogs there when she is not making "modest clothing, First Holy Communion wear, Wedding Dress, Mantillas and Veils"--and gorgeous altar frontals, too, it seems! Here are some of her laces and designs. Oh, the pretty!
Making mantillas is not as easy as one might suppose, which I guessed thanks to attempts at making wedding veils. UGH. Not a good project for an indifferent seamstress. Therefore, I did not make the mistake of thinking I could do a mantilla on the cheap. No, no! I wrote to Mrs D about her current stock, and now I have a lovely mantilla that looks rather like this, only black:
For some reason, I find the tiny label identifying the mantilla as the production of "Zélie's Roses" rather thrilling. Perhaps it's the thought of a Roman Catholic woman having her own little business making beautiful church-appropriate garments for whichever women care to wear them.
I love the idea of women running little businesses from their homes, and I very much admire the women who have the patience, talent and eyesight for fine sewing.
By the way, I wore my new mantilla on Saturday to confessions at the Cathedral, and afterwards I thought I perceived people staring at me although maybe this was because I was looking at them. Or because I looked incredibly beautiful and the women all suddenly wanted one of their own!
Update: The baby bonnets. THE BONNETS!
My mini-hat is a lovely wee object, but I'm worried it makes me look like the proverbial organ-grinder's monkey and, besides, nobody else in my local TLM community wears a fascinator to Mass. One dashing young matron wears a smart pillbox, and there is a beret or two, and the Frenchwomen go bareheaded, but mostly the women and girls wear mantillas. The girls and maiden aunts wear white mantillas, and the married women wear black. Well, one married woman wears blue because she's Italian and doesn't want to look like the proverbial Italian widow. Me, I don't want to stick out as the one woman at Mass wearing a fascinator, just as when at the NO, I don't want to stick out as the one woman in a manilla.
The Sunday after my bragging, I noticed how pretty many of the mantillas are, but most of all, I was haunted by the private revelation of some girl on the FSSP Supporters Facebook page that her veil had found favour with the Lord. Yes, this was a complete stranger writing on the internet about a personal and private locution, but it made me think all the same.
Is Our Lord and Saviour pleased when, out of respect for His presence in the monstrance or tabernacle, we women wear veils? I don't know, but so far nobody has claimed it makes Him mad. Saint Paul, naturally, was all for them and, if this is the sort of thing saints think about in heaven, perhaps he still is. For a contemporary point of view, here's what Raymond Cardinal Burke had to say on the matter.
I am not sure my husband would care one way or the other what I wore on my head to Mass although he might find it odd if I deliberately stopped wearing anything on my head. And he did not kick up a fuss when I presented him with a bill and asked him to write a cheque for £30 to a mantilla maker.
For, lo, I looked online and discovered Zélie's Roses. A Mrs D. of Oxfordshire, England blogs there when she is not making "modest clothing, First Holy Communion wear, Wedding Dress, Mantillas and Veils"--and gorgeous altar frontals, too, it seems! Here are some of her laces and designs. Oh, the pretty!
Making mantillas is not as easy as one might suppose, which I guessed thanks to attempts at making wedding veils. UGH. Not a good project for an indifferent seamstress. Therefore, I did not make the mistake of thinking I could do a mantilla on the cheap. No, no! I wrote to Mrs D about her current stock, and now I have a lovely mantilla that looks rather like this, only black:
For some reason, I find the tiny label identifying the mantilla as the production of "Zélie's Roses" rather thrilling. Perhaps it's the thought of a Roman Catholic woman having her own little business making beautiful church-appropriate garments for whichever women care to wear them.
I love the idea of women running little businesses from their homes, and I very much admire the women who have the patience, talent and eyesight for fine sewing.
By the way, I wore my new mantilla on Saturday to confessions at the Cathedral, and afterwards I thought I perceived people staring at me although maybe this was because I was looking at them. Or because I looked incredibly beautiful and the women all suddenly wanted one of their own!
Update: The baby bonnets. THE BONNETS!
Saturday, 6 May 2017
Another Argument for Catholic Homeschooling
This is not an edifying story, but I find it both funny and important. It's funny and important for the same reasons.
After being found guilty of misconduct for putting her legs behind her head in front of her students, [the ex-teacher] stands in a coffee shop the next day and lifts her floral skirt.
“It was a yoga exercise,” Brown says, revealing to a reporter that she has aqua yoga tights under her skirt, just like the day she proved how flexible she is to her students. “You stretch until you’re aligned. That’s what I showed them. I’m not ashamed.”
Brown, a fit 65-year-old, was recorded by a student when she laid down on the floor and swung her legs upward until they were behind her head. The video, along with the statements of more than 10 students and one educational assistant were the primary evidence used against her during an Ontario College of Teachers tribunal hearing on Tuesday. Some said her actions made them feel embarrassed.
“Why would the children be embarrassed,” Brown asks, noting she performed the exercise during lunch hour. “They have sex in the hallway and they smoke.”
It's funny because we do not expect teachers, let alone Catholic religion teachers, to illustrate how flexible they are by doing feet-behind-head yoga moves, or talk glibly about their mothers' sex-lives, or make jaw-dropping claims about the students' sexual behaviour. Something tells me Humanae Vitae and the thought of Saint John Paul II weren't pondered too deeply in this woman's classes.
But it's important because it is dangerous to assume that teachers are thoughtful, prudent, moral, respectful people just because they are have been hired to teach at Catholic schools, especially government-funded Catholic schools. Teachers at publicly funded Catholic schools in Toronto are very well paid. If I had had any financial sense when I went to university... But, on the other hand, if you're not called to it, and you do it just for the money, teaching high school can be miserable.
This woman claims to have taught at a number of Toronto Catholic high schools since 1987--when I was in high school, my dears--including my own high school. I don't recognize her, so I don't think she was there (if she ever really was there) in my day. However, I can remember one other teacher giving a very good impression of being bat-guano insane. Others, of course, were great and their more quirky pronouncements--"Mankind is doomed, girls. We're doomed. Have a good afternoon"--didn't do me any harm.
Now that I teach teenagers instead of adults, I worry about being overly lighthearted and saying the wrong things or The Wrong Thing that will stick in a student's head for years after I have forgotten it. (I worry about this regarding my niece and nephews, too.) The teacher in this story doesn't seem so bothered.
Happily, I am not given to outrageous remarks about (A) Adult Stuff or (B) my students' ethnic backgrounds. I imagine Filipina-Canadian girls who attend or have attended one of this woman's schools (and their parents) must be feeling pretty shaken by this woman's dismissal of them all. It is hands-down worse than anything I ever heard anyone in Toronto--student, teacher, boss--say about pasty "mangiacakes "like me, and I am still mad that 30 years ago Mrs Such-and-Such said that Anglo-Saxons won't do construction jobs because we don't like to get callouses on our hands. I was too stunned to raise my hand and volunteer that my mother's (White, Anglo-Saxon and even Protestant) cousins worked summers in Toronto's construction industry until their inability to speak Italian became a problem.
(Let it go, Dorothy. Let it gooooooo. Daj spokój. Non fa niente. )
Perhaps the most disturbing feature of the story is that this ex-teacher was hauled up before a tribunal only in 2015. Okay, it could be that she was an exemplary teacher from 1987 until then. But if not, what were her colleagues doing to protect their students from this woman's insanely imprudent and immoral remarks?
For the sake of fairness, I should also observe that this teacher was the victim of quite a serious fraud at the hands of a friend in 2014, so it very well may be that she snapped afterwards. That said, I really do think it important that all parents who entrust their children to a system check that system regularly.
Tuesday, 2 May 2017
Teaching Attic
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was to text a recent Classics grad from Edinburgh Uni to see if she would like the job. However, she had not done any Greek; her specialization began and ended with Latin. I cast about in my mind for someone else among my Edinburgh friends and acquaintances, but I could not think of anyone who had studied Ancient Greek within the past 25 years save my unworthy self.
As I passed Ancient Greek 101 and 102 only by the skin of my teeth, my conscience would have cut up rougher had I not sat down eight years later and worked through the bally stuff. That was the year I lived alone in a bachelor flat and spent my evenings reviewing Italian, French, Latin and Attic Greek. Eventually French and Greek fell by the wayside as I concentrated on Italian and Latin. My Italian was in super shape by 2000, and I actually used it at work----but let us return to Attic Greek.
Although I have little "natural talent" for foreign languages, I know a lot about learning them, thanks to a steady reading diet of popular works on language acquisition and years of grappling with Tym Pięknym Językiem. I also know something about teaching, which I have been doing off-and-on since the year 2000. A three year stint under the Ignatian Pedagogical Method taught me some great teaching tricks, including repetition and getting students to really "ENGAGE" with the material. All that stuff about marking your "consolations" and "desolations" in the margins of photocopies and writing "questions for reflection" turn out to be key to memory work.
"Revel in your chagrin," I yell at my students when they perceive their errors. "Feel the pain of your errors! Or feel the joy of your successes! Joy or pain! Whichever! Feel it!"
I am all about pedagogical method. When my first Attic Greek pupils were sent away to be educated by a proper teaching order on the Continent, I asked them to discern the sisters' pedagogical method. They're still not sure what it is, but I hope it has lots of sneakily useful teaching tricks. Meanwhile, I have been engaged to continue teaching them Ancient Greek by correspondence as the girls their age are already reading Homer, Herodotus and the gang. Fortunately, we have a brilliant textbook.
My first and favourite Greek teaching trick is to make pupils cut out, bake and eat the Greek Alphabet. Subsequent testing has led me to believe that this step should never be skipped. Apparently Jews taught their children the Hebrew alphabet with cookies for centuries, and it makes complete sense. Children love cookies, so their love for cookies becomes linked to the alphabet being consumed. If the children are made to cut out the stencils and then the dough themselves, this engages their eyes, ears and hands. In fact, since they eventually bake and eat the alphabet cookies, all their senses work together.
My most recent Greek teaching trick was to make up Leitner boxes for my senior students. A Leitner Box is a classic Spaced Repetition System. In short, one has vocabulary cards which one reviews according to a fixed schedule, moving them closer to the back of the box as one's memory for them strengthens. As per the instructions in Fluent Forever, I left the backs of the cards blank so that my students could draw pictures or symbols denoting the Greek word (or word pair) on the front. English is not allowed.
The amusing thing about my Leitner Boxes is that the actual boxes are made from cardboard Union Coffee coffee bag supports, and as my favourite brew has this vigorous name, my students are returning to their consecrated preceptress from their Jesuit-trained, Easter-holidays tutor with boxes marked Liberacion. No pun was intended, and I rather wish I preferred "Bobolink", whose name is surely more in keeping with Traditional Catholicism, homeschooling and convent schools. But there it is.
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Thursday, 27 April 2017
Mantilla Can See Ya
Today's traddy entertainment came from the FSSP Supporters page on Facebook, where a young thing tells the story of how she and some mantilla-wearing friends went to Daily Mass, only to discover themselves subject-fodder for sermon. Did I mention this was the Novus Ordo? Anyway, the priest looked at them pointedly and condemned people who bring attention to themselves, and the young thing wonders whether she ought not to wear her mantilla to this priest's masses in future.
Unsurprisingly there followed was an elephant stampede of traddy male commentators virtually shouting about our Lord's commandment to women to wear veils--one I did not know about previously--and even shouting down sensible suggestions to wear a nice beret next time.
What a mantilla in a teapot. I am trying to squash any uncharitable suspicion that the young things did want to attract attention or make personal statements about what they thinks they ought to wear to Mass, especially as I have headscarfed up for the Novus Ordo myself. (I seem to have lost the nice black mantilla I bought in Barcelona [made in China].) Given my experience, the poor gal probably just feels a bit naked in church without something on her head.
Naturally I think the cranky priest was a meanie and he ought to have had a proper homily prepared rather than wing it on the expense of innocent mass-goers. But I also think traddy men should calm down a bit on the subject on mantillas. Mantillas are very pretty, but the point of them is not for women to be pretty but to show reverence for the Blessed Sacrament and, perhaps, not distract poor susceptible men with our snake-like tresses. My tresses are more like wild pythons, so I generally bundle them up into a jar-like bun before adorning myself with a scarf, shawl, hat or fascinator the size of a two pound coin.
A fascinator may not sound as veil-like as a proper Royal Enclosure at Ascot hat, but aesthetically it beats a Kleenex tissue, which is what schoolgirls in the old days would perch on their heads if they were caught without anything else. I should like to see the man who would tell me my snazzy new mini-hat isn't good enough for Mass--but then traddy men in the UK are not that interested in female millinery. Trad women in the UK often go to EF Mass completely bare-headed, just as German women went bare-headed to Mass for decades before Vatican II.
Unsurprisingly there followed was an elephant stampede of traddy male commentators virtually shouting about our Lord's commandment to women to wear veils--one I did not know about previously--and even shouting down sensible suggestions to wear a nice beret next time.
What a mantilla in a teapot. I am trying to squash any uncharitable suspicion that the young things did want to attract attention or make personal statements about what they thinks they ought to wear to Mass, especially as I have headscarfed up for the Novus Ordo myself. (I seem to have lost the nice black mantilla I bought in Barcelona [made in China].) Given my experience, the poor gal probably just feels a bit naked in church without something on her head.
Naturally I think the cranky priest was a meanie and he ought to have had a proper homily prepared rather than wing it on the expense of innocent mass-goers. But I also think traddy men should calm down a bit on the subject on mantillas. Mantillas are very pretty, but the point of them is not for women to be pretty but to show reverence for the Blessed Sacrament and, perhaps, not distract poor susceptible men with our snake-like tresses. My tresses are more like wild pythons, so I generally bundle them up into a jar-like bun before adorning myself with a scarf, shawl, hat or fascinator the size of a two pound coin.
A fascinator may not sound as veil-like as a proper Royal Enclosure at Ascot hat, but aesthetically it beats a Kleenex tissue, which is what schoolgirls in the old days would perch on their heads if they were caught without anything else. I should like to see the man who would tell me my snazzy new mini-hat isn't good enough for Mass--but then traddy men in the UK are not that interested in female millinery. Trad women in the UK often go to EF Mass completely bare-headed, just as German women went bare-headed to Mass for decades before Vatican II.
Saturday, 22 April 2017
Okay, I Laughed But...
...now I feel bad for laughing. Darn you, Rorate Caeli!
Stop me if I repeat too often the story about the visiting Irish bishop who ended his Toronto St. Patrick's Day sermon by emoting that Ireland would never, ever give up the Faith. I believe that was in 1996. I was terribly impressed.
Not Funny At All: Rorate also reveals that Trads don't eat meat on any Friday that doesn't fall a big solemnity, even Easter Friday. Oops. Still, one may feast, so next Easter Friday we will have lobster.... Um... do we like lobster? There's no point feasting with salmon in Scotland because zzzzzzz. Unless, of course, one is very poor. (I am reading about food poverty in the UK.)
Not Funny At All: Rorate also reveals that Trads don't eat meat on any Friday that doesn't fall a big solemnity, even Easter Friday. Oops. Still, one may feast, so next Easter Friday we will have lobster.... Um... do we like lobster? There's no point feasting with salmon in Scotland because zzzzzzz. Unless, of course, one is very poor. (I am reading about food poverty in the UK.)
New Traditionalist Community of Women in New Zealand
I have had an appeal from a young trad woman I know, and I thought I'd pass it on.
+
Ave Maria!
You probably have seen that there is a small community of traditional women
starting down in Christchurch New Zealand:
http://papastronsay.blogspot.co.uk/2017/04/he-seeks-veronicas-let-us-find-them.html
starting down in Christchurch New Zealand:
http://papastronsay.blogspot.co.uk/2017/04/he-seeks-veronicas-let-us-find-them.html
It is all wonderfully exciting and God has blessed us so
much already. The next stage to this now moving on and
we are after a house so that some may live together and begin
community life proper, appeasing the just anger of God and
calling down graces for the world. We rely upon the generosity
of others, and as you've studied the Church much more than
I have, you know that this has always been the case. So I am
sending out a plea that you may help these Veronicas find a house!
much already. The next stage to this now moving on and
we are after a house so that some may live together and begin
community life proper, appeasing the just anger of God and
calling down graces for the world. We rely upon the generosity
of others, and as you've studied the Church much more than
I have, you know that this has always been the case. So I am
sending out a plea that you may help these Veronicas find a house!
And more than that, I ask that you may help others
to also make acts of reparation to the Holy and Adorable Face of Jesus
by giving generously. We love to complain that there is not enough religious
communities, so let's help make it happen.
Thank you for your help and God bless.
to also make acts of reparation to the Holy and Adorable Face of Jesus
by giving generously. We love to complain that there is not enough religious
communities, so let's help make it happen.
Thank you for your help and God bless.
There you go. Take a break from donating to the Middle Eastern Christians (see margin) and throw some shekels to these Kiwi Veronicas.
Tuesday, 18 April 2017
Celebrating Easter with Food
As far as I am concerned, the Low Blood Sugar Diet--strictly followed according to the recipe book--works very well. What I liked best was that no gym membership or boring exercise regimen was necessary. The only overall change to my physical activity was carrying out Spring Cleaning---and, come to think of it, a lot of rubbish and recycling, since my husband is not yet physically fit enough to take them out himself.
The funny thing about living on 800 calories a day is that I thought about food quite often, watched even more cooking shows than usual and read several books about cuisine. I feel a bit ashamed of that; I am relatively sure that when monks and nuns fast, they don't spend that much time dreaming about food.
Be that as it may, I very much enjoyed planning, preparing and--at last--eating special Easter dishes. We had up to four overnight guests in the house, so all this food was as necessary as it was enjoyable. Two of the guests were Polish, which gave me an excuse to make exotic stuff, not just solidly British fare.
The Home Cooking and Baking Menu
Good Friday: Hot Cross Buns
(It is traditional in the UK to bake hot cross buns on Good Friday.)
Easter Sunday Breakfast: Żurek (Polish sour soup with white kielbasa); coloured hard-boiled eggs; grilled white kielbasa with ćwikła (beetroot-horseradish sauce); potato pancakes; śledź w oleju (herring in oil, which I forgot to serve); chałka (braided egg bread); mazurek królewski (shortbread pastry with jams); baranek (cake shaped like a lamb--the centrepiece, not to be eaten yet); makowiec (poppy seed cake); coffee.
Easter Sunday Dinner (4:30 PM): prawn salad on baby gem lettuce; roast leg of lamb with butterbean-mint sauce, roast potatoes, gravy and peas; Easter Trifle; leftover makowiec, leftover mazurek; white wine; red wine; cava; pudding wine; Laura Secord chocolate Easter Egg; coffee.
Easter Monday Breakfast or Brunch : Random selection of bread, cheese, black pudding, bacon, fried banana, as half the household gets ready for a wedding, and the other half takes its time while waiting to go to just the wedding dinner/dance.
Easter Tuesday Brunch: Leftover żurek; black pudding; fried eggs; morning rolls with jam and/or butter; the baranek (eaten at last); coffee; tea.
Both my Polish Pretend Children and my Franco-Polish Pretend Son-in-Law were here, so Easter meals have been all very entertaining, with Polish Pretend Daughter insulting Polish Pretend Son at intervals by telling him that he is actually German.
Friday, 14 April 2017
Tuesday, 28 February 2017
Guess What I'm Giving Up for Lent?
Monday, 27 February 2017
Shackin' Up Magically Okay Now
It's amusing how quickly Trad Catholics get married once we are engaged. If we didn't live in such vulgar times, we could compose funny songs about this.
It's less amusing how long some other Catholic engagements are.
But what is least amusing at all is this post by Father Antonio Spadaro, SJ.
Update: I came across a comment that identifies the photo used in Fr Spadaro's article as that of an engaged couple taken three years ago.
Update: I came across a comment that identifies the photo used in Fr Spadaro's article as that of an engaged couple taken three years ago.
Thursday, 23 February 2017
Trads and Matrimonial Advertisements.
“Middle-ranking civil servant, single, Catholic, 43, immaculate past, from the country, is looking for a good Catholic, pure girl who can cook well, tackle all household chores, with a talent for sewing and homemaking with a view to marriage as soon as possible. Fortune desirable but not a precondition.”
The future Frau Ratzinger was 36 and a trained cook, and despite being over 35 she bore three children, both sons becoming priests. It's a happy story. I love how Joseph Senior underscored that he had an "immaculate past" before stating he was looking for a "pure" girl. Yes, unless you have an immaculate past yourself, chaps, don't get your heart set on a "pure" girl. A smartened up, currently chaste girl is good enough for you.
The ad was placed in a Bavarian Catholic paper in July 1920 (when both Church and society encouraged single men to be immaculate and single women to be pure, so it was weird and generally shocking if you weren't), so it makes complete sense that Joseph Senior would immediate flag his ability to provide and signal his interest in women who would make a good homemaker. The fortune bit is quite funny, since surely Bavarian women of fortune could do better socially than a middle-ranking civil servant, but hey, money comes in handy.
There are dating websites for Traditional Singles, and so small is the Traditional Catholic community that I immediately recognized TWO of the local Trads on this website.*They both go to Mass regularly and have proper careers, but I don't know them well to gave a précis of their personalities, so you would have to investigate yourselves. Yes, it's Catholic Match, but I am being magnanimous. Besides, one of the local Trad women (none of whom I recognized, by the way) foolishly didn't add a photo and started her ad "It's been a tough few years" so now I have the opportunity to STRONGLY encourage you not to do this. ALWAYS have a photo. NEVER mention unhappy stuff. Men are visual. Men prefer happy. Dear Lord. This should be taught in high school.
There are also Traditional Catholic Singles and Latin Mass Dating, about which I know nothing, and there is even SSPX Singles, which you may wish to consider even if you do not frequent SSPX chapels. How interested SSPX fans will be in the merely Extraordinary Form and Traditional Doctrine Positive is a question, however. Of course, a sudden infusion of new blood in the SSPX courtship scene might provoke interest. Again, it's a relatively small community, except in France.
Normally I despise dating websites because they are much too much like shopping for people, and indeed I anticipated them in 1987 or so when I wrote a series of stories called "Man Shortage", "Man Shortage II", etc. My heroine drunkenly wished for a catalogue of Single men that she could choose from in her search for a date. At least one of these stories was published in the school newspaper, and I got a talking to from an RE teacher because my heroine (unlike myself, incidentally) preferred blue-eyed blonds, which he thought rather neo-Nazi. However, when it comes to Traditionalist Catholic communities, internet dating is less like shopping and more like finding a plank to cling onto as the ship goes down.
It doesn't strike me as traditional for tradition-minded Catholic women to place their own ads, but I suppose they have to, to answer the ads of traditional Catholic men. Really the most important thing in a woman's profile, in my humble opinion, is the photograph. Sad from a female perspective, but true. Men are who they are and not who we want them to be. No bikini shots, naturally. Marital status first or career? Hmm. If you don't have a career, you could put your dad's career. How old-fashioned is that?
Doctor's daughter, 32, single, university-educated (Aberdeen), obedient to Church teachings, from Stonehaven, enjoys cooking, baking, child care, is looking for a traditional Catholic man, age 30-45, with a professional career, with a view to marriage.
"As soon as possible" doesn't sound as nice coming from a woman, does it? Meanwhile, you may have a job working at the pet shop, but honestly, who cares? If a guy cares about marrying within his class, "doctor's daughter" covers that; if he cares about education, you mentioned uni; if he's worried about chastity, that's covered as much as you want it to be; if he's looking for feminine (and they all are), cooking, baking and children covers that....and now you make your demands. Trad Catholic. Your age group. Professional and money-making. Marriage. All that walking on the beach stuff is stupid. Be practical, taciturn and look nice in your photo. Smile.
If you do have a career, however, mention that at the beginning, for the sake of men terrified of the potentially crushing financial burdens that come along with dependents, aka housewife and kids.
Secondary school teacher, 35, widowed, one child, obedient to Church teachings, from Glasgow, athletic, enjoys homemaking, is looking for a traditional Catholic man, age 35-45, employed in trade or profession, with a view to marriage.
My fictional Glaswegian secondary school teacher is either less fussed about class than the fictional doctor's daughter or from a blue-collar family. She lives for marathons, but it's better to preserve the mystery by just saying "athletic".
As for the trad guy, I think Joseph Ratzinger Senior's ad is a good template, except for the emphasis on sexual purity. Too much of an emphasis on purity today may scare the purest of virgins because of the creepiness of contemporary virgin-hunters. Start with the career.
Museum curator, widower, trad Catholic, 47, no children, from Dundee, is looking for a trad Catholic woman, never married or widow, 30-50, who has a professional career she enjoys with a view to marriage as soon as possible. Natural red-heads preferred.
That's for B.A., in case I should snuff it and he doesn't go into a monastery after all. He loves to cook, but he doesn't like housework, so my professional lady replacement should hire a daily instead of preaching about equality in household tasks. B.A. is an example of a trad Catholic man who does appreciate a financial contribution to ye olde household accounts. The Scottish heritage industry is not a field in which a man gets rich--unless he owns tartan tat shops. By the way, B.A. might consider a 17 year age gap a bit big, but I don't--not for men over 40 anyway.
The photo is a bit trickier for men, but in general, just look like yourself on a work day, only happy.
*I find it odd, however, that I don't recognize more of the Edinburgh ones. If they aren't going to the one FSSP Sunday Missa Cantata in town, why are they described as "traditional"? They could be at the SSPX's Sunday Low Mass, but if they aren't, I'm puzzled.
Update: In case anyone is disturbed by my posthumous plans, I'm not dying; I just like using B.A. as an example.
Update 2: I wonder if women-over-30 specifying age is a limiting move? I can WELL understand women under 30 being firm about no-one over 40 or even 35, but after a woman turns 30, older men are often more attractive than they were before she turned 30. My only concern (were I a 35 year old widow) would be an elderly man hoping to find himself free nursing help. Well, then there's the bullying factor. Sometimes I am quite astonished at things men of my parents' generation say. Others are wonderfully charming, however.
*I find it odd, however, that I don't recognize more of the Edinburgh ones. If they aren't going to the one FSSP Sunday Missa Cantata in town, why are they described as "traditional"? They could be at the SSPX's Sunday Low Mass, but if they aren't, I'm puzzled.
Update: In case anyone is disturbed by my posthumous plans, I'm not dying; I just like using B.A. as an example.
Update 2: I wonder if women-over-30 specifying age is a limiting move? I can WELL understand women under 30 being firm about no-one over 40 or even 35, but after a woman turns 30, older men are often more attractive than they were before she turned 30. My only concern (were I a 35 year old widow) would be an elderly man hoping to find himself free nursing help. Well, then there's the bullying factor. Sometimes I am quite astonished at things men of my parents' generation say. Others are wonderfully charming, however.
Saturday, 18 February 2017
Another Love Letter
Saint Ignatius taught that we should not crave honour more than dishonour, but all the same it used to bother me that so few letters to the Catholic Register mentioned my articles. Now I am used to it and so am vastly surprised when I find out someone has written in. Here's the latest:
We don't need the Pope or the Bishops. Why? because we have Ms. Theologian herself Dorothy Cummings McLean.
We already know from Dorothy Cummings McLean that those of us who think Vatican II was a good thing and do not go to a Latin Mass with music from the middle ages are probably going to be kept out of Heaven.
We now that the Bishops are peddling sin. Perhaps Pope Francis will read the article and excommunicate the Bishops.
I must say I am flattered that someone out there considers me a theologian with a capital T, which is far from the case. Of course, any Catholic who seeks to understand what it is we believe is a theologian in that he or she is doing theology. I learned that on Day 1 of "Intro to Theology" (or whatever that class was called). However, I do think we need the Pope and the Bishops because all that administrative work would kill me. My role is strictly auxiliary.
The second paragraph confuses me. I cannot recall slagging off Vatican II in the Catholic Register or anywhere else.When I quote the documents of Vatican II, it is to point out that they have not been followed. That said, today I would like to know exactly how much influence Gregory Baum actually had at Vatican II, and if anyone would like to reveal surprising new insights into John Courtney Murray (secret Buddhist?) that would be nice, too.
Meanwhile, I occasionally opt for the Novus Ordo without fear of loss of heaven. All the Catholics in my family, with the exception of my husband and me, go to the Novus Ordo. Meanwhile, the music from the Middle Ages is kept to a minimum at my local TLM. When we sing the Missa de Angelis--the oldest bit being the 12th century Sanctus--it is a sign that the Schola is on holiday and it is up to miserable us to keep the musical banners flying. The greater part of the music on any typical Sunday is from the Renaissance, the 19th century, or the organist's dining-room table, composed some time between breakfast and ten years ago.
I note that my admirer couldn't bring himself to write the word "hell". Do I think people go to hell for attending the Novus Ordo? No. Do I think people are in danger of hell when they commit mortal sins? Yes. Remind me what Our Lord Jesus Christ came to save us from. Valhalla?
Yes, various Bishops have indeed been peddling sin. Men picked for their administrative skills should stop listening to right-on professors at notoriously dodgy theology schools like the Atlantic School of Theology and stick with the saints. Some should give up the boyfriends (or girlfriends), the cover-ups and the child p*rn. However, I highly doubt that Pope Francis will read my article, and I doubt even more that he will excommunicate the Maltese bishops for their staggeringly craven take on Amoris Laetitia.
We don't need the Pope or the Bishops. Why? because we have Ms. Theologian herself Dorothy Cummings McLean.
We already know from Dorothy Cummings McLean that those of us who think Vatican II was a good thing and do not go to a Latin Mass with music from the middle ages are probably going to be kept out of Heaven.
We now that the Bishops are peddling sin. Perhaps Pope Francis will read the article and excommunicate the Bishops.
I must say I am flattered that someone out there considers me a theologian with a capital T, which is far from the case. Of course, any Catholic who seeks to understand what it is we believe is a theologian in that he or she is doing theology. I learned that on Day 1 of "Intro to Theology" (or whatever that class was called). However, I do think we need the Pope and the Bishops because all that administrative work would kill me. My role is strictly auxiliary.
The second paragraph confuses me. I cannot recall slagging off Vatican II in the Catholic Register or anywhere else.When I quote the documents of Vatican II, it is to point out that they have not been followed. That said, today I would like to know exactly how much influence Gregory Baum actually had at Vatican II, and if anyone would like to reveal surprising new insights into John Courtney Murray (secret Buddhist?) that would be nice, too.
Meanwhile, I occasionally opt for the Novus Ordo without fear of loss of heaven. All the Catholics in my family, with the exception of my husband and me, go to the Novus Ordo. Meanwhile, the music from the Middle Ages is kept to a minimum at my local TLM. When we sing the Missa de Angelis--the oldest bit being the 12th century Sanctus--it is a sign that the Schola is on holiday and it is up to miserable us to keep the musical banners flying. The greater part of the music on any typical Sunday is from the Renaissance, the 19th century, or the organist's dining-room table, composed some time between breakfast and ten years ago.
I note that my admirer couldn't bring himself to write the word "hell". Do I think people go to hell for attending the Novus Ordo? No. Do I think people are in danger of hell when they commit mortal sins? Yes. Remind me what Our Lord Jesus Christ came to save us from. Valhalla?
Yes, various Bishops have indeed been peddling sin. Men picked for their administrative skills should stop listening to right-on professors at notoriously dodgy theology schools like the Atlantic School of Theology and stick with the saints. Some should give up the boyfriends (or girlfriends), the cover-ups and the child p*rn. However, I highly doubt that Pope Francis will read my article, and I doubt even more that he will excommunicate the Maltese bishops for their staggeringly craven take on Amoris Laetitia.
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