Almost Finished

While in Rome on pilgrimage, four of us, during our visit to Santa Maria Maggiore, decided to go to confession. A little later, we compared penances, feeling a rather hard done by… a young lady had been told to say her Rosary every day for a week for a certain intention; one of our priests had been told to offer up his Breviary every day for a week for a similar cause; and Mike and I, upon learning that each of us had been told to offer up the Rosary for such and such an intention (I got "sincerity"), daily – for a month – felt uniquely put-upon.

I recall that, according to that devout book, The Secret of the Rosary, St Dominic assigned just such a lengthy penance to a pious Roman matron, who was in the habit of doing the rounds of the Seven Churches every day. Like her, I own to feeling more than a little discomfited!

Doubtless the … son of St Dominic in question (for the confessors at St Mary Major are Blackfriars) had been a-reading some such "manual of penance". I am now nearly finished fulfilling this penance – at least I have thereby got back to saying the Rosary. Perhaps that was the desired result.

Moral of the story: when on pilgrimage with no less than three priests, don't think to shop elsewhere. Or at the least, avoid the confessionals of Friars Preachers like the plague.

Thursday in Rome

My last day in Rome dawned early, with a rush to get to St Peter's by seven a.m., when the doors are opened.  I found the server already setting up for Fr Withoos' Low Mass at the altar of the Transfiguration. After Mass, I joined him for a quick coffee and so forth, before heading back to my hotel to pack.  Soon enough, I set out for my last walk around Rome, first over to the Chiesa Nuova at last, to visit dear St Philip.

I visited a few other churches of note, such as the Minerva (where St Catherine of Siena reposes under the high altar, with Fra Angelico's funerary monument nearby), before plodding back toward the Vatican, stopping at a nice little cafe in the Borgo Pio.   Then, at about four o'clock, I took a taxi (40 euros) to the airport, for my flight at half past eight.

Videre Petrum

"And thirty-seventhly, Most Holy Father, may I humbly suggest that you..."

No, thankfully for me and for the Church I didn't have a one-on-one meeting with the Pope, but I did have (thanks to my friends at the N.A.C.) an excellent seat three rows from the front on the right during this Wednesday's General Audience.

A Papal blessing for me and my family, and for my new scapular - excellent!

(And earlier on I'd heard Fr Rowe's Low Mass at the altar of St Sebastian, where the relics of Bl Innocent XI repose.)

Finalizing Holiday Plans

Persevering readers of this blog (if there are any) will know that I am heading to England, Scotland and Italy for a holiday at the very end of this year and the start of next - which is quite typical of me, being so contrary as to head to the far north in mid-winter! I know Traddies like to be climate change deniers out of a general sense of contrariety, but I for one wouldn't mind some warming coming up very soon...

While I have to sort out the English leg of my holiday, it will be spent in London and Oxford; but for the benefit of my Scottish contacts, my very distant relatives, I can confirm that I'll fly up to Edinburgh on Monday the 4th of January, and stay in the Athens of the North over three nights, before departing for Florence on Thursday: so I'll keep Epiphany in Scotland.

Firenze - città bellissima! I can't wait to get back there - I'll stay at my usual hotel on the banks of the Arno for two nights, and then take the train to Rome on the morning of Saturday January 9th. The local Carmelites tell me I simply must make it to the shrine of one of their incorruptibles, St Teresa Margaret of the Sacred Heart, of their Order...

Once in the Eternal City, I will catch up with several other Aussies, and we should have a pleasant time, hopefully at last including a day-trip to Assisi, before I have to leave for Australia on Thursday the 14th: I will have the weekend in Melbourne before finally getting home on Sunday afternoon.

Burns reminds me that best-laid plans gang aft agley... I trust the Lord will preserve and guide me, as He ever has.

Change of Plans

I had been planning to travel to New Zealand in January, but I've changed my mind for various reasons, and now hope to go there in May.

Instead of travelling east, I will go north-west after Christmas: it's the off-peak season in Europe. At this stage, I would be thinking of leaving around New Year, and going initially of course to Rome, then probably the U.K. - Bp Jarrett is forever reminding me to visit Farnborough, and so does Rob (both of whom have spent time there recently), and I could do with seeing London, Oxford, Walsingham and so forth... plus of course I must visit my ancestral homeland of Scotland.

Any suggestions?

Last Morning in Rome

Up very early, over to St Peter's one last time... I served Mass for Fr Withoos at the altar of the Navicella, to help teach one of the altar boys how to serve the Trad. Mass. Veneration of St Peter, and of sundry holy Popes (St Gregory the Great, at whose altar another Trad. Mass was going on; St Pius X; Bl John XXIII; Bl Innocent XI)... finishing Matins in the Bl Sacrament chapel.

Breakfast with Fr Mark and friends afterward...

One last purchase at a bookshop I wished I'd found earlier...

Back to San Greg., then off to the airport.

Arrivederci, Roma!

[This post seemed to have been lost somehow, so I now, years later, put it back onsite.]

Back to Australia

When this message appears, I'll be (hopefully) taking off for Australia, departing Kuala Lumpur, where I will have been for a few hours since arriving from Rome.

This evening (7.40 pm local time) I should arrive at Melbourne airport. A good friend of mine has arranged to collect me there and give me a place to stay for the night. My plan - depending on how jet-lagged I am - is to go to the 11 am Solemn Latin Mass at St Aloysius to-morrow (being Sunday), before I have to be back at the airport for my connecting flight home to Tasmania in the mid-afternoon.

Oremus pro invicem.

Thursday Afternoon in Rome

I was very tired, and my time in the Eternal City was fast passing away...

In the mid-afternoon, I slowly walked down across one of the Tiber bridges into Trastevere, stopt for a Belgian beer, then found the ancient basilica of Santa Cecilia.

It brought me to my knees, seeing the beautiful sculpture of that Virgin Martyr - a statue copied from her incorrupt body, which was discovered, and displayed to all Rome, for almost the whole of 1599 (at least thirteen hundred years after her death in witness to Christ). To think that her body still sleeps in the reliquary of the crypt below (which I viewed through a grille), together with several other early martyrs!

The mosaic of the apse is of the ninth century, and in its ancientry and naive style breathes the pristine spirit of holiness. Pope Paschal (who then rebuilt the church, even then falling into ruin by reason of the centuries having elapsed since its foundation) is pictured with St Cecilia, SS Peter and Paul, Our Lord, St Valerian (the chaste husband of Cecilia, and fellow martyr), and St Agnes (another primitive Virgin-Martyr). Below, there is a procession of sheep (Christians) approaching the Lamb of God.

******

I then walked further down the Tiber, crossed over on the Ponte Sublico (?) and made my way toward Santa Sabina - but first, and very fittingly, found the property of the Knights of St John (whose estate is the smallest sovereign state in the world, they having previously lost Jerusalem and then Rhodes to the Turks, and Malta to Napoleon), where, looking through the keyhole of their gate, one espies a perfect prospect of the dome of St Peter's at the end of a beautiful path hedged about by vegetation.

******

Santa Sabina, HQ of the Dominicans...

Well, let's just say it was very Dominican - let the reader understand!

The church is very bare and sober, in antique Roman style: excellent. I finally got around to reading Lauds. But then, the advertised bookshop being closed because the person manning it "just popped out for a minute", I sat down and read several more Hours, till finally they got the message and found some Pole to open it up.

I bought a number of interesting items, such as small reproductions of works of Fra Angelico, and best of all (E15.50) a mint-condition 1956 Dominican Diurnal, in perfect pocket-book size. It was so well-preserved the pages needed carefully to be separated, so as to read it.

But... the Polish fellow had put on what turned out to be an excruciatingly corny and heterodox CD of mad US Dominicans, singing wicked propaganda - for instance, one song said, If your image of God is an old man on a cloud, discard it because it doesn't exist and it is a symptom of your fears and repressions... Need I say more? Oh, and there was the expected feminist revisionist angle represented as well. Puke, puke, puke!

I went back into the basilica to finish off the Hours through to Vespers - and found an even more bizarre thing. I was moving round from the altar of St Hyacinth, when I noticed a friar I'd seen earlier doing something odd at the Bl Sacrament altar: to my consternation, he had the tabernacle open, revealing a mini-monstrance (before which he had lit several tiny candles, commendably enough), but had pulled a chair right up onto the altar step, and was lounging on this, with his bare feet stretched out in front against the altar, and his hands on his head!

I honestly didn't know whether to cry or laugh, it was so hysterically eccentric and peculiar. Talk about giving scandal. And then, his mobile phone rang, so he just walked away from Our Lord and took a long, loud telephone call right in the middle of the church. Eventually he returned, only for his phone to ring again and him to abandon his wierd adoration for a second conversation...

For the benefit of posterity, I have acquired a photograph of this madness, which I will upload once I'm back in Australia. I think even Coo-ees couldn't come up with a strange thing like this.

******

Well, I missed seeing St Paul's outside the Walls, and many other churches (including several, like San Stefano Rotondo and San Clemente, that are quite close to where I've been staying), but I have done much... till next time.

Vale Rome - for now

Someone joked: Rome is full of faith - everyone leaves a little bit behind! (Quod Deus avertat.)

As this post appears on my blog, I should be on my way from the Eternal City back to Australia, with a brief stop-over in Malaysia to-night.

May Our Lady of Loreto, St Joseph of Cupertino - that levitating saint whose feast falls to-day, most providentially - and all the angels intercede for me and for all who travel by air, that we have a safe flight as God wills, and ever have as our true goal the haven of everlasting salvation.

Roaming Rome

I'm very tired and spending some time in the heat of the day (when the churches are closed) catching up on my blogging-cum-diary of this my holiday-cum-pilgrimage.

A little earlier, I felt tired and in need of some comfort, so I had a very pleasant lunch at ristorante Don Chisciotte (Italian spelling of Quixote), sitting out under cover on the Piazza Navona, with Bernini's fountain playing and some nearby musicians too. Entree of salmon and swordfish, then spaghetti carbonara, and then cotoletta milanese with grilled vegetables. Add to that some excellent natural sparkling mineral water, the usual bread on the side, a caffe freddo, and il conto totalled €50!!!

Previous to that, I visited S. Augustino - and venerated: (a) the Crucifix before which St Philip prayed, and which moved him to devote himself entirely to the Lord; (b) the relics of St Benedict Martyr; (c) the relics of St Monica. I asked her to intercede for me and mine, that as her tears and prayers won her son for Christ as a great saint, so we all might be converted and be saved.

(I also popped in to S. Luigi dei Franceschi.)

Earlier still, I paid a last visit to St Philip at the Chiesa Nuova. I hadn't got around to booking a tour of his rooms, so that I forego for this visit; ditto for my hopes of making it out all the way to the catacombs of St Sebastian, where he received the Holy Ghost. (Fr Rowe told me of it - he said Mass there at the very spot.) However, I did stop at San Tommaso in Parione: the church was closed, and there was no answer at the office of the Procurator General of the Oratorians, but I did see the commemorative plaque in honour of the ordination there of St Philip to the minor orders and subdiaconate; he was ordained priest on the 23rd of May 1551, unusually late in those days (he was already 36 years old).

Requiem at the Altar of St Gregory

From San Gregorio I set out at half seven this morning, to serve a Requiem (for Robert Peckham) at SSma Trinità. Fr Brendan was there as planned, and very fittingly we had the Low Mass at the side altar of St Gregory, with its marvellous altarpiece of that holy Pope, enlightened by the Dove of the Holy Ghost, beholding the deliverance of souls from purgatory at his prayers and offering of the Mass. Requiescat in pace.

Mass done, Fr very kindly invited me, and the visiting American priest, plus one of the regular servers at the church (an American student at the Angelicum) to go for coffee at a bar nearby. It was very interesting to talk with them, especially with Fr Brendan, who it turns out knows a number of priests and laymen of my acquaintance - even Mark, that former blogger in Edinburgh. We had a very interesting discussion afterward all about Biblical theology (how to steer between the Scylla and Charybdis of fundamentalism and heterodoxy), while strolling the local streets. He also revealed that, like Fr Mannes my old mate, he is a great Star Wars devotee!

Wednesday Afternoon and Evening

I was tired out by all my travelling, but gathered strength to walk from San Gregorio (where I am again for my last two nights in Rome) the 25 minutes or so to SSma Trinità for Mass.

The visiting American FSSP priest (Fr Nichols, from Virginia, as I learnt to-day) said the Mass. It wasn't a dialogue Mass as I had previously encountered at the church. However, as seems the custom, one and all sang Salve Regina afterward.

Then, off to S. Giovanni de' Fiorentini to meet my seminarian friends Mike and Brennan, who then walked me through the tunnels under the Janiculum to a Chinese restaurant! At €33 for the three of us it was cheaper than some of my meals for one. We walked over past the Leonine City for some gelati once we'd finished, and then I caught the metro home. Tired...

Grumpy Train

Some Japanese were in my seat on the (crowded) train from Florence back to Rome. Their solicitous tour guide explained they were honeymooners and could not be separated. To the amusement of English-speakers aboard, I observed testily that no doubt they would soon not be separated...

The tour guide perforce gave me her seat, and with frustration and irritation I said Sumimasen to her with as much sarcasm as I could muster. I think this was rather rude of me in retrospect.

My 7th Day in Rome

Unfortunately in some respects, I had to spend this morning moving from San Gregorio to the Hotel Emmaus - not because they kicked me out, but because when months ago I organized to stay at the former, they were already booked out for to-night and to-morrow: now, to-morrow I'll overnight in Florence, but to-night had to organized while I was in Rome (thanks, Mike, for your help), owing to an oversight on my part.

In any case, having had a sleep-in, and moved out, I took the metro across to Ottaviano station, and walked down just past St Peter's to the hotel. It seems very pleasant and comfortable, with a TV and air-con, benefits not available at the monastery! For this reason, having to pay €75 for a single room seems fair: it's only just a bit more than double the very cheap San Gregorio rate (one of the lowest in Rome, even among religious houses), and would compare favourably with accommodation rates back in cities in Australia. I have been very fortunate.

Because the churches are closed in the heat of mid-day, I didn't head off on my afternoon adventures till after 2 pm. This may have been unideal...

First, I walked all the way to Santa Maria Maggiore (making a few detours along the way by mistake). What a church!

I first adored in the Exposition chapel, then prayed before the ancient and venerable icon of Our Lady Salus Populi Romani (Health, Safety and Salvation of the Roman People).

A memorial inscription recorded that it was here at her altar that Eugenio Pacelli - later Pius XII - offered his first Mass, out of devotion to the Holy Virgin.

But wait - then I descended the stairs of the confessio beneath the high altar...

I was overpowered with amazement to behold, in its gold and silver reliquary, beams of wood from the Crib of Jesus Christ Our Lord: the Word Made Flesh dwelt first amongst us in His Mother, and then was cradled therein when He was born in Bethlehem of Judea. Behold the wood of the Crib, on this day when we venerate the Wood of His Cross!

Kneeling there in wondering awe, I prayed the Gloria in excelsis, the Angels' hymn over the Babe of Bethlehem, then turned to the texts of Christmas in my missal:

Apparuit gratia Dei Salvatoris
nostri...

(The grace of God our Saviour hath
appeared...)

Apparuit benignitas et humanitas
Salvatoris nostri Dei...

(The benignity and humanity of God our
Saviour hath appeared...)

Et peperit filium suum primogenitum,
et pannis ejus involutum, et reclinavit eum in praesepio ...natus est vobis
hodie Salvator, qui est Christus Dominus, in civitate David. Et hoc vobis
signum: invenietis infantem pannis involutum, et positum in
praesepio. ...et invenerunt Mariam, et Joseph, et infantem
positum in praesepio.

(And she brought forth her Firstborn Son,
and wrapt Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger ...For you is born
this day the Saviour, Who is Christ the Lord, in the city of David. And
this shall be for you the sign: you shall find the Infant wrapt in swaddling
bands, and laid in a manger. ...and they found Mary, and Joseph, and the
Child lying in the manger.)

Concede, quaesumus, omnipotens Deus,
ut nos Unigeniti tui nova per carnem Nativitas liberet, quos sub peccati jugo
vetusta servitus tenet. Per eumdem...

(Grant, we beg, almighty God, that the new
birth of Thine Onlybegotten in the flesh may deliver us, who are held by the old
servitude under the yoke of sin. Through the same...)

Moving on round the basilica, I admired the sumptuous and ancient apse mosaics of the Coronation of the Virgin and her Dormition, surrounded by angels, accompanied by the small suppliant figure of Pope Xystus III, who had them done for this great church of St Mary Major, in commemoration of the decree of the Council of Ephesus against all heretics that the Blessed Virgin is truly Theotokos, Deipara, Mother of God.

Then I espied a familiar face in one of the confessionals - Fr Denis Hallinan, O.P., a wise and caring old priest, dear to me from years past. He and the other Dominicans who man the confessionals (which are kept busy the whole time: each friar sits administering the Sacrament of Penance for at least 24 hours a week) are employed by the Apostolic Penitentiary that the multitudes of the faithful may have confessors fluent in many languages.

He was surprised and delighted to see me, and I him. We had a very pleasant chat (before I left him to his next penitent), and he shewed me where the former penitential wand used to sit - before miserable Paul VI abolished so many fun Catholic things, and ruined most of the rest, you could gain a plenary indulgence just by the touch of the wand (à la Harry Potter). How sad that what was a part of the rich tapestry of Catholicism is now a superstitious plaything.

Fr Denis generously accepted a stipend to say a Mass for my family, and I bade him adieu.

Next, on to St John Lateran! On the way I bought a gelato (almond flavour), and had to miss visiting Santa Prassede (it would have been impious to walk in licking an icecream), but I did make a station at St Alphonsus, where the original icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour is kept.

Further along, I visited two churches opposite each other: SS Marcellinus and Peter (annoyingly, their sacred remains were long ago translated to Heilegenstadt) and St Anthony of Padua (a very disappointing building).

At last, San Giovanni in Laterano! I was getting tired, and walked the interior without so much devotion. I did like the great Baroque statues of the Apostles, superhuman in size, all down the nave.

When moving on, I realized from my map that it was only a block to the Santa Scala... so a few minutes later saw me going up them on my knees, which is painful and no joke I can tell you. For the sake of Thy sorrowful Passion, O Lord! That was my prayer, and I hope to thus have gained the plenary indulgence.

But I had still further to go: Santa Croce in Gerusalemme was my final objective before turning back. This is the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross after all. I cannot say how solemn, sombre, stark and moving was the chapel of the sacred relics of the Passion: there was a notable hush, and a larger proportion of sisters and priests in evidence, in silent meditation upon the Nail, the Thorns, the Fragments of the True Cross, the Titulus or superscription (written in Latin, Greek and Hebrew) that Pilate wrote and had pinned above Our Lord on Calvary, and the Finger of St Thomas, which touched the Wounds in the Hands and Side of the Risen Christ: for, supreme over Death, He still and for ever bears the scars of His Triumph, which are evermore glorious and adored.

I should have spent longer at all these sites, but it was a quarter to six, and I was a long way from SSma Trinità, where I desired to hear Mass of the Holy Cross. So, back I hobbled along the streets - Deo gratias, and thank you to my Guardian Angel, a bus going in exactly the right direction appeared just as I reached the Viale delle Terme di Caracalla, about half a kilometre the wrong side of San Gregorio! It brought me to within striking distance of my objective, so I got to Mass in time, at six thirty.

Low Mass began at the high altar, "in thanksgiving for the second anniversary of the [coming into effect] of the Motu Proprio Summorum Pontificum". But at the side altar next to my pew, a second, private Mass soon began; so I kept an eye on it while assisting at the main service. First the Elevations at the high altar, then at the side... Holy Communion... then two blessings! (It turned out that the second Mass was that of a visiting F.S.S.P. priest from the U.S., here with a pilgrim group).

I calculate that I have walked something like 2 1/2 km in the morning, then 10 km in the afternoon! Ouch.

Did I mention that one of my two pairs of shoes has actually given out, and the heel has come away from the sole? Cobblestones...

I've only done four of the Sette Chiese so far, and only three and a half to-day, since I didn't actually enter St Peter's. To think that to do the Seven Churches in a day, as was St Philip's devotion, would require walking a far way further - 12 km more in fact: from Santa Croce to San Lorenzo fuori le Mura, then down the Appian Way to San Sebastiano f. l. M., and along the Via delle Sette Chiese to Saint Paul's outside the Walls.

I may have to put off this devotion...

Sir Edward Carne

Another monumental inscription at San Gregorio al Celio:

D.O.M.

EDOVARDO CARNO BRITANNO EQVITI AVRATO IV[-]
RISCONSVLTO ORATORI SVMMIS DE REBVS BRITA[-]
NNIAE REGVM AD IMPERATOREM, AD REGES, BISQ.
AD ROMANAM ET APOSTOLICAM SEDEM QVARVM
IN ALTERA LEGATIONE A PHILIPPO MARIAQ. PIIS
REGIBVS MISSVS OBORTO DEINDE POST MORTEM
MARIAE IN BRITANNIA SCHISMATE SPONTE PATRIA
CARENS OB CATHOLICAM FIDEM CV[M] MAGNA INTE[-]
GRITATIS VERAEQ. PIETATIS EXISTIMATIONE DECE[-]
SSIT HOC MONVMENTVM GALFRIDVS VACHANVS
ET THOMAS FREMANNVS AMICI EX TESTAMENTO POS.
OBIIT ANN. SALVTIS MDLXI XIIII CAL. FEB.

Here is the story of his life and end as given in the Dictionary of National Biography.

Requiescat in pace. Amen.

A Roman Afternoon and Evening

Yesterday in the later afternoon I walked over to San Giovanni dei Fiorentini again, and then paid another visit to St Philip at the Chiesa Nuova. Later still, I made my way along the Via Papalis (currently renamed after some usurper), and paid a visit at Santi XII Apostoli. I arrived as a Sunday evening Mass was in progress at a side altar, the priest just making the minor elevation at the Per ipsum, so I adored and worshipped with the congregation from then until the communion. Just when I was expecting to soon hear the last prayer and receive a blessing, instead the celebrant started up some infernal song in the most appalling flat nasal bass voice, which drove me away from that altar.

I was glad, for this prompted me to go across to the high altar, where I found the confessio, with steps leading down into a crypt: and there I venerated the relics of the Apostles Philip and James the Less (the other ten apostles are present in spirit, apparently). Soon enough the Franciscans running the basilica ushered us out, but as we left I heard a priceless comment from one elderly English lady to her husband, as they looked at a poster about Padre Pio, whose relics are on display at another Roman church: "He's dead now," she said.

Very close by, I found yet another little church, on the Corso, where Exposition was in progress: so I went from seeing Our Lord in the Sacrament to seeing Him again. But I couldn't stay, for I had an appointment: at Ristorante Abruzzi (Piazza dei SS Apostoli) I was meeting a prelate of my acquaintance for dinner at half seven.

"Eccellenza!" quoth I - His Lordship had just arrived, and was incognito, so the staff called him Padre, which greatly amused him, since (being close to the Greg.) it probably meant they thought him a Jesuit. His modest episcopal ring perhaps wasn't showy enough... since the situation was informal and he wasn't in full regalia, I decided not to genuflect on the left knee after all, as being rather over the top given the circumstances.

You know, sometimes with old friends you just take up where you left off - we had a very enjoyable conversation, and before we realized four hours had passed. Settling the bill (about €85, quite decent for a smorgasbord of antipasti, two bottles of the house wine, perfect Roman proper spaghetti carbonara, main course - I had vitello tonnato - with a side dish of vegetables, then dessert, coffee, and complimentary liqueurs), we walked along, still having a good chat, past Trajan's Column as far as the Colosseum, at which point I had to head off back to San Gregorio. It was an hour after curfew, so I snuck in...

Ad multos annos!

Soiree

A very good time was had by all, with a select party of Aussies and some others looking down on night-time Rome and St Peter's, drinking martinis with friends, student priests, and even a curial official.

(I haven't had such a good martini since I was guest of Fr Tattersall et al. some years back. Come to think of it, it really is my drink...)

It was especially good to see my old mate Monica, whom I haven't seen since she moved to live and work in England some years ago. It was good to see ya, and again at Mass to-day!

The only fly in the ointment was the pressing need to get back to San Gregorio before the curfew at 11.30 pm - I half walked, half ran over the painful cobblestones, achieving the incredible distance just in time, in half an hour. I surprised myself.

Novus et Veteris Ordines Missae

Spot what is incongruous and superfluous in this picture...

As I explained at the Congregation for Divine Worship, it would be unseemly in principle to exclude the celebration of or attendance at the modern Roman Rite in its Ordinary Form; which my interlocutor observed was correct, since it would have been churlish to have spurned the Pope's Mass on that pretext!

Of course, I oppose all abuses of the Novus Ordo; it should be safe, legal, and rare.

At least here in Rome one sees quite commonly the traditional altar set-up, without some miserable table set up in the untraditional ignorant mania for Mass versus populum.

The first thing the Pope can do is to see the correct placement of the priest at the altar resumed throughout the City, stripping out philistine excrescences before perfectly serviceable atlars, and then extend it worldwide once more.

(It will require the generation of priests stuck in the seventies to die off before the Restoration succeed...)

Just yesterday, I also heard half a French Novus Ordo, which was very devoutly offered: and this morning, happening upon a church to read Prime in, heard the start of a Spanish Mass.

(What a pity I can't be in Toledo for a Mozarabic Liturgy! And because of an invitation last night to a function, I missed the Armenian Rite liturgy at St Blase, or San Biagio degli Armeni.)

Santa Maria sopra Minerva

Behold, Santa Maria sopra Minerva - note the amusing elephant! (To the right, out of frame, are marks on the façade noting how high different floods of the Tiber came; the highest, back in the sixteenth century, would have flooded well in through the doors. One quaint inscription has it that, but for Holy Mary interposing her hand, all Rome would have been swept away.)

I forgot to mention this before: on Friday afternoon I also wandered into Santa Maria sopra Minerva - I had no idea till I went in how huge it is! And to find under the High Altar the body of St Catherine of Siena, and close by Bl John of Fiesole, a.k.a. Fra Angelico!

I prayed for my old friends the Dominicans there.

How St Philip would be Pleased!

After getting back to my digs barely in time for curfew (see next post for details), I stayed up even later, chatting on my mobile, since somewhere close by a noisy party was going on...

Refreshed, and finally feeling almost better this morning - for I've felt like a leper all my time in Rome, since that dreadful cold that laid me up all the week before I travelled has lingered on, with many hacking coughs, etc. - I arose and made my leisurely way to Mass, stopping for a caffelatte and cornetto (croissant) en route.


On my way, I found the church of St Bridget open, built on the site where that mediaeval Swedish visionary, widow, foundress and mystic prophetess lived while in Rome. Her sisters, in their distinctive headdress, were there: good to see.


It's been far too long since I've been at Solemn High Mass: true Catholic worship, in a proper Catholic church. Santissima Trinità dei Pellegrini was fairly full, with at least sixty in the congregation (it is a small church in area, and this attendance I reckon is very good for a church in the historic centre of the City). Two priests - one of them Fr Withoos - heard confessions during the Mass, in those attractive Roman confessionals at which the penitent kneels on the outside and whispers his sins to the judge within, acting in person Christi Judici.

The High Altar at SSma Trinità set for Mass (stock photo).

In the front pew on the Epistle side sat three members of the ancient Confraternity of the Most Holy Trinity of Pilgrims (established by St Philip Neri in 1540), wearing their striking bright red robes with white cravats, and a badge of the Trinity over their hearts, carrying also their Baroque rods of office, with symbols of the Trinity embossed and long tassels depending.

Apparently most members of the Confraternity are away in the summer; most are extremely old; and since all its properties were confiscated* after the Occupation of Rome in 1870, the Confraternity no longer has place nor funds to carry out their former works of charity for poor pilgrims. Their only function now is to take up the collection at Mass, to say their prayers and to have the privilege of processing in and out with the clergy, being censed after them and before the rest of the people.

(*Confiscation indeed! Vae victis, and to the victors the spoils - so the ungodly thought when they despoiled Pope Pius IX of his legitimate throne. A fat lot of good that brought the House of Savoy: they got Mussolini for P.M. in the end, an alliance with Hitler, terrible losses in Africa, the Balkans and Russia, then war throughout all Italy and finally the loss of their ill-gotten kingship. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Let all who raise their hand against the Pope, the Lord's true anointed, and not some jumped-up braggart princeling, beware! As with Attila the Hun, so with Victor Emmanuel...

(As for those who stole the pious donations built up over centuries and intended for the care of strangers and pilgrims, in their rapacious impiety they merited only torment with the devils in hell.)

For the High Mass, the English priest and deacon, plus the French subdeacon (who sang the Epistle in an amusing accent), were assisted by an M.C., thurifer and two acolytes. (As is the practice in Rome, there was no processional cross carried.) There was also a priest in choir attending the Mass, who assisted in distributing communion. After the Mass, he went to a side altar, donned Eastern vestments, and began a "Low" Byzantine Rite Divine Liturgy, in Ukrainian I think.

The High Mass itself, well-paced and unhurried, took an hour and a quarter, including a good Italian sermon on the resurrection of the body, and the restoration to fulness of life of the human person, as instanced by God's great mercy in Christ, Who raised the widow of Naim's only son (to-day's Gospel, for the 15th Sunday after Pentecost). As my hand missal notes, this miracle signifies Christ's merciful raising of us from lying dead in sin, at the plea of our Holy Mother the Church.

The mystery of the paten: during High Mass, as all men know, at the Offertory the subdeacon receives the paten and with the humeral veil around his shoulders and arms, holds it aloft before his face all through the Canon until after the Pater noster, when the deacon takes it back that the priest may break the Host and deposit the Particles upon it. Against the usual principle that the greater is censed by the lesser, during the Offertory the deacon censes the subdeacon carrying the paten, presumably by reason of the latter's special office; otherwise, the deacon having censed the priest and any clergy, he passes the task of censing the lesser ministers and people over to the thurifer. It struck me during this ritual that perhaps the subdeacon represents an angel veiling his face before the Lord.

The organ played, and a male soloist sang all the Gregorian Propers, including the Vidi aquam. Only the Kyrie, Sanctus, Agnus Dei and a communion Motet were in, well, I suppose it was polyphony, with a female singer also and organ accompaniment. The Gloria, perhaps on account of its length, was in plant-chant (Missa XI, Orbis factor), and the Creed also (Credo III), alternated between soloist and people. At the end of Mass, one and all sang the Salve to honour Maria Santissima.

Si spiritu vivimus, spiritu et ambulemus.

(If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.)

I was struck by the opening verse of the Epistle (Galatians v, 25 - vi, 10), which put me in mind of that sovereign liberty in the Lord that St Philip Neri possessed, being always full of love and joy and peace in the Holy Ghost, acting with perfect freedom as befits a child of God. I thought at once of the words of the Acts: Spiritus Domini rapuit Philippum (the Spirit of the Lord caught Philip up, enraptured him)... I must turn to the Apostle Paul, to read more of life in the Spirit, after the model of San Filippo buono, Third Apostle of Rome.

******

During Mass, as for the last several days, I had the fanciful thought that I was at Mass with a ancient Roman plucked out of time, now to behold with astonished eye his City cleansed from paganism, in which the despised Christians of his age have triumphed, and planted the Cross everywhere above pagan altars thrown down.

It pleased me to think how he would have found the Christian Latin comprehensible, yet strange, with its bizarre use of common words (Dominus, Deus, Pater, Filius, Spiritus), and wierder admixture of Greek (Kyrie, eleison, Christe, Ecclesia, Jesus, psallere, Evangelium, propheta, Maria, catholicam, apostolicam, baptisma, hymnum, Angeli, Archangeli) and even strange Hebrew (Amen, Alleluia, Sabaoth, Hosanna, Seraphim, Cherubim), plus manifold unclassical infelicities in the readings from the Scriptures, even Hebraisms (Dominus vobiscum, Et cum spiritu tuo, per omnia saecula saeculorum, expectans expectavi).

What would he make of the Gloria, of the Credo, above all of the dense doctrine of the Preface of the Trinity? What of the Pater noster, of the Confiteor the deacon sang (who are these people with such foreign Greek and Hebrew names: Mary, Michael, John Baptist, Apostles Peter and Paul?), of the Last Gospel, all about some word (Verbum)?

What would he have made of the repeated praises of the "Trinity" (Tri-unitas was a neologism of Tertullian), or of the mysterious message preached, "For a great Prophet hath risen up in us, and because God hath visited His people" - Jesus Christ bringing eternal life, and giving that gift in His Sacrifice, in what these Christians oddly name a sacramentum?

A Sacrifice, certainly, for he would recognize the solemn actions of the priest, but an odd one: where the Victim, the people partake of what? A white Disc is uplifted, and offered incense, as to a god... it is shewn again, and called the Lamb that takes the sins of the world away... the choir sings, Panis quem ego dabo caro mea est pro saeculi vita (The Bread that I shall give is My Flesh for the life of the world). Mystery! Is this the cannibal feast against which the pagans whispered?

At least in the classical dress of the parati, he would see something of the civil rituals of his day, with servants bearing incense, candles, and a book before the officials, just as the same was bourne before magistrates in Rome of old (except not the Gospel, but an Imperial rescript of appointment). He would have recognized what genuflection meant; in his day, one bent the knee before the Emperor.

******

Strangely, the fellow actually next to me at Mass kept staring, I couldn't fathom why.

After Mass, I spoke at last with Fr Kramer, the parish priest, and again with Fr Brendan Gerard, his curate, who'd been the deacon at Mass. They were agreeable, but something about their manner made me feel, not uneasy, but as if they saw something of which I was unaware; I put it down to their being Englishmen, as their accents shewed.

I pressed on, and was delighted to find San Girolamo della Carità still open. It is a splendid little church, all shining clean and neat, now in care of priests of Opus Dei - good to know! - and I was moved to read the inscription above an interior doorway, that directly above was the chamber where all those years ago, St Philip Neri began the pious exercises of the Oratory, so-called because it was a little place for prayer. The saint lived on site for 33 years (the rooms may be seen only by appointment, apparently), and I was able to venerate him in his magnificent Baroque statue behind the altar in the magnificent Antamoro chapel.


Unfortunately, I wasn't able to meet friends afterward, as I had hoped, so I went wandering around, getting a sandwich, a coffee, a gelato...

Finding somewhere to use the facilities, I looked at last in the mirror, and discovered what all absent-mindedly I'd forgotten to do: I hadn't combed my hair this morning, so I looked messy and ridiculous... hopefully this humiliation will beget humility.

How St Philip would be pleased!