Pet Peeve

(I speak in general terms here about hypothetical cases. I have always been lucky enough to attend worthy celebrations of Mass, with very rare exceptions - by far the worst befell me in Melbourne back in 1999, with a priest who omitted all the Eucharistic Prayer except the institution narrative, amongst other inanities such as applauding Our Lord's arrival on the altar; and in Hobart in 2001, with a priest who sat at his newspaper-piled dinner table with me as sole guest and celebrated there with great expression the whole Mass conjoined with Lauds - complete with long sermon! Now that was wierd: I had in all simplicity wondered why he had a glass of wine with his breakfast, till the penny dropped and I was so stonkered by it I couldn't make my escape.)

Pet peeve: attending a Mass at which everyone stands for the Eucharistic Prayer (in contravention of what the relevant bishops' conferences long since determined and had approved by the Vatican, throughout the English-speaking Church), not even kneeling - as the rubrics demand everywhere - for the Consecration. It's simply not allowed (and yes, the Church's provisions are meant to be obeyed - why else bother having them?), unless obviously there's some compelling reason to say Mass in a place where it is impossible for the people to kneel down.

Persons may seek to justify this standing with appeals to the Early Church/Christian East - and do these same people ever seek to restore or imitate, say, their penitential or fasting disciplines, of much greater value to the contemporary, blase, half-committed West? - but what it seems results from this is a practical diminution of the adoration that is mandated by God and man at the Consecration. This slighting did not happen in the past, nor does it happen in the Eastern Church: both have a healthy sense of worship of the Majesty of God. But the danger today is that it makes kneeling and saluting Christ now made present upon the altar to seem but a childish game, a fantasy of yesteryear; whereas it is real and good and true.

I do not in any way wish to judge those who in good faith don't realize the issue here: for so many will have been lead to believe that this is just another option, even a preferable one, and who love and praise Our Lord very much in the Sacrament of His Love, and would no doubt be amazed and scandalized that I am scandalized and upset by this, no doubt seeing me as some poor benighted soul trapped in an infantile faith, terrified of some avenging Deity.

But we know, since Pope Paul VI defined it (following the entire Roman Church), that the essential sacramental formulae of the Eucharist are the well-known words of institution (of course the whole Eucharistic Prayer is most holy and valuable, but the silly idea that somehow the whole thing is consecratory won't wash: consider, if a priest saying Mass die before "This is My Body/Blood", obviously the Eucharist hasn't been confected, whereas if he die directly after, it has been, despite the prayer left unfinished), and the very liturgical text prescribes that the priest after uttering the performative words thereupon show the consecrated host and then the chalice to the people - and why? - for adoration: that is, for worship (it says this quite openly, as a glance in the altar Missal would prove).

It is patent that humble kneeling upon one's knees is a most suitable posture for this act of worship, and is prescribed for the laity in the very Missal. Why change this part of the ritual? By what authority? If the body shew no outward reverence, reflecting the heart and soul within, how can this be called the worship of the whole man rendered to His adorable Saviour, now made present whole and entire? (I know full well that kneeling for the whole of the rest of the Canon is not prescribed universally, but, as the newest GIRM puts it, where that is prescribed locally, the practice is laudable.)

[BTW, the lifting up of the chalice and paten at the concluding doxology is a solemn ritual offering of the consecrated elements - that is, of Christ our Priest and Victim - to God the Father, and so the focus at that moment is on the sacrificial nature of the Mass. It is at the double elevation after the Consecration that our attention is to be focussed on the Real Presence of Christ, which is worthy of divine worship. Similarly, at the "Ecce Agnus Dei" the priest shews the Host - possibly over the chalice - to the people, in this case inviting them to focus on humbly confessing their gladness to receive the Divine Guest, however unfit they may feel to welcome Him.]

Since I don't have the courage to appear different and scrupulous if everyone else is standing (no doubt without the slightest worry), I just try and bow down (as the CDW's Notitiae once suggested in the case of those unable to kneel at the Consecration for some just cause), no doubt appearing furtive and peculiar, and tell the Lord in my heart that I hate having to stand and really don't wish to show Him disrespect and irreverence, but want desperately to cast myself down in His Presence... Feelings of guilt, cowardice, helplessness, despair, anger, rage and contempt fight within. So much for the fruits I would wish to gather at Mass!

Don't people understand that these things really trouble their 'weaker' brethren, and why don't they demonstrate the compassion that they never cease to talk about?

A second, related peeve - what I call "Lazy Mass", generally involving the large and middle-aged on beanbags or comfy chairs (I speak not of persons frail or elderly or otherwise unable to stand or kneel, as commonsense perceives): a Mass at which any of the following occur: (1) everyone sits for the General Intercessions - how ridiculous! - (2) everyone sits for the Preface - ditto! - and/or (3) everyone sits for the Eucharistic Prayer, which is even more disrespectful and irreverent than standing throughout - at least I can unobtrusively kneel down in such a case, and not feel so panic-stricken (always remembering that if you can't stand or kneel, of course there's no worry: it's the lazy I object to).

Advice gratefully solicited!

Eucharist and Agape

I have driven all over Perth today.

It seemed a good idea, to catch the last 6pm Wednesday TLM at Good Shepherd, Kelmscott... which is 28km SE of the centre of Perth. Work had taken me almost as far in another direction!

(From this Sunday, Quinquagesima, there will be instead a 2pm Sunday EF Mass there, and we'll begin with a Missa Cantata.)

Afterwards, Fr, Aaron and I had an Indian meal at a little restaurant: Eucharist and Agape.

Fratres Oratorii Sessio III

Rather like the on-again, off-again Council of Trent, the Brothers of the Oratory gathered on Tuesday evening just past to resume for the new year of grace, 2008.


Having had to attend an evening function instead, I at least caught up with the fratres afterwards, who by that stage were gathered having conversation, food and drink, in approximately that order of quantities!


I ended up driving one of them home, and getting back myself after midnight. It wasn't till nearly 2am that I turned the light out, having reread a bit more of The Lord of the Rings - just arrived at Bree!

Kneeling on the Tongue, or Standing on the Hand?

I've always thought that, provided no scandal is given, each person should receive Holy Communion in a manner that is both approved (of course) and most conducive to one's own devotion (implying that it be least conducive to one's own anxiety), since clearly the more fervently one communicates the better.

Of course, charity requires that one also consider the good of others when receiving: is what one does more likely to edify others, or to amaze, upset, even disturb them? Here prudence comes in: what would be fine in one context may not be in another. I am speaking here of legitimate modes of reception of course: to stand on one's head to receive would be madness!

Consider: if attending the Byzantine Rite of the Divine Liturgy, there is only one proper manner of reception: standing, one opens one's mouth and tilts one's head back, so the priest can use the liturgical spoon to place in one's mouth a piece of the consecrated Lamb (the leavened Host) which has been placed in the chalice and soaked up some of the Precious Blood, warmed, in this Rite, by the addition of hot water to the chalice - to signify that the Blood is truly living and Spirit-filled. To try to kneel down would be as inappropriate as to put one's hands out in this case.

So, for example, if (in the Ordinary Form of the Roman Rite) one were very nervous that one might spill the chalice - if one's hands were unsteady, say - then one would refrain from receiving from it when it is offered: this is commonsensical. Or, if one were in a place where kneeling down for communion would cause real scandal, since it is never done there, and people would think one peculiar - if not Pharisaical or even schismatical - for doing so, one would be advised to refrain from doing so, despite it being still allowable: obviously, one's prudential judgement would come into play in this case. Something similar obtains in the obvious cases of ill-health, frailty, etc., when one cannot kneel down (as is the norm in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite) - then one receives standing, as everyone accepts.

But to put it all into perspective, I like to refer to the two main options at Mass as:

Kneeling on the Tongue,
or
Standing on the Hand

- try these today!

Mass, Rosary - and Nocturnal Adoration

This evening's Low Mass was in honour of St Peter Nolasco, one of the founders of the Mercedarians, with commemoration of the second feast of St Agnes. (Confusingly enough, being back to saying the new Office, therein it was the feast of St Thomas Aquinas!) I managed to say my Rosary afterward, in thanksgiving - I say 'managed', because I haven't managed to get round to saying it for some time, because of lukewarmness.

Quite unexpectedly, after returning home and eating some of the Moroccan chicken dish left over from Sunday night, I received a phone call for one of my housemates: it seems owing to some unforeseen circumstance he couldn't make it to his time slot at adoration - I was asked, Could I step in for him? So it was I ended up at nocturnal adoration for 3/4 of an hour; finding myself still very lukewarm, I invoked the Lord as indeed the faithful God, with His Father and Their Spirit in the unity of the Trinity, and recalled St Paul's words to Timothy: "We may be unfaithful, but He is always faithful, for He cannot deny His Own Self" (II Tim. ii, 13). I used the time to make some mental prayer, plus say some Office and other vocal prayers, wishing I were more devout in presence of the Lord. What to pray but to pray with the prophet: Turn thou us and we shall be turned, save us and we shall be saved (cf. Lam. v, 21; Jer. xvii, 14; xxxi, 18).

The Brothers of the Oratory meet tomorrow at the Pro., 6.30-7.30pm, but - wouldn't you know it! - I have an important engagement elsewhere at just that time, and cannot come (tho' I should be able to join them for dinner and conversation later on). So tonight I used some of the prayers I would have prayed with them tomorrow...

Chrysostom on St Paul

From the Divine Office for the 25th of January, quoting from St John Chrysostom's 2nd Homily on St Paul:

"It was Saint Paul more than anyone else who showed what man is and how great is the nobility of our nature, as well as what capacity for virtue this human animal has. Every day he advanced in stature, every day he fought ith ever-renewed keenness against the dangers threatening him; he showed this when he said: 'I forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead.' ... It was not simply that he looked for more, he looked for much more."

I recall that the Barnabites, or Clerks Regular of St Paul, were established by St Anthony Mary Zaccaria and others to emulate and imitate the manners and virtues of this great Apostle.

The Keys of Septuagesima

A pleasant coincidence, to which my attention was drawn while reading Dom Gueranger:

"As the season of Septuagesima depends upon the time of the Easter celebration, it comes sooner or later according to the changes of that great feast. January 18 and February 22 are called the 'Septuagesima keys', because the Sunday, which is called Septuagesima, cannot be earlier in the year than the first, nor later than the second, of these two days."

In other words, Septuagesima can fall as early as the 18th of January - formerly, one of the two feasts of the Chair of St Peter (and still able to be celebrated according to the '62 Missal) - or as late as the 22nd of February, the other (remaining) feast of the the Chair of St Peter.

Hence, these two dates are called the "keys" of Septuagesima.

Septuagesima can only fall on the 18th of January when Easter falls on its earliest possible date, the 22nd of March, in an ordinary, non-leap year: this last happened in 1818 and will next occur in 2285.

But as for Septuagesima falling on the 22nd of February - that can only happen when Easter falls on its latest possible date, the 25th of April, AND in a year that is a leap year. This has not happened since Pope Gregory brought in his new calendar and new system of calculating Easter, nor will it happen until some time after 3000AD. (Easter last fell as late as this in 1943, and this will happen again in 2038, but neither years are leap years, so Septuagesima in both cases takes place on the 21st of February.)

Apparently, the last time Septuagesima did occur on the 22nd of February happened under the old Julian calendar, according to the system then used to compute the date of Easter - in 1204. (And before that, in 672 according to the Roman method - but at that time several competing systems for finding the date of Easter were still in competition, as exemplified by the disputes leading to the famous Synod of Whitby.)

[For those parts of Protestant Europe that were still using the Julian calendar, in sectarian opposition to the Gregorian reform, 1736 was a year in which Septuagesima fell on the 22nd of February - this would have included Anglican England and Lutheran Scandinavia and Germany. The so-called Dionysian method for finding Easter, together with the Julian calendar, has Septuagesima on the 22nd of February quite punctually every 532 years; but this method has been long abandoned in the West, and of course the East doesn't keep Septuagesima.]

*Update* - after trawling through results from online Easter calculators, I find that the next bissextile (that is, leap) year to come in which Easter falls on the 25th of April is - 3784. So, provided the calendar is not amended (the Gregorian calendar would have lost about a day by then), nearly 18 centuries hence, and over 2500 years since it last happened, Septuagesima will fall on its latest possible date of the 22nd of February, in 3784.

(BTW, in 2011, only three years from now, Easter falls on the 24th of April, its second-latest possible day, so Septuagesima will then fall on the 20th of February, rather than on the 20th of January as it has done this year, in which Easter falls on its second-earliest possible date.)

Te Deum laudamus

Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam!

My laptop's working again, and the Internet connexion at home is on, so at last I can blog in comfort.

To celebrate, I've just had a glass of Lindemans Pecheresse, a lambic beer, flavoured with peaches, from the parts of Belgium round Brussels: just what the doctor ordered. And it's mid-afternoon here in Perth, and I don't even need the airconditioner on - what could be better than this?

Singing again

Since the choir still hasn't resumed its normal schedule, for his sins this blogger had again to psalm-tone the Proper by himself, plus lead the Asperges, Missa de Angelis and Credo III, and the hymns "Firmly I believe and truly" as the processional, Ave maris stella at Offertory, Adoro te at Communion, and "Faith of our fathers" for the recessional. Rosemary and one of the choristers from the mixed choir joined me, thankfully, at the last minute.


At least it wasn't as hot today as it had been, and the Pro. was bearable, not stifling: nonetheless Fr Rowe did as he'd planned, and took off his chasuble as well as maniple to preach, beginning with that arresting joke "Isn't it lovely and cool - the fires of hell and purgatory are MUCH hotter..."


He went on to say he hoped there weren't many present in the first three categories of Catholics enumerated in today's Gospel by our Lord (mea culpa; at least I'd been shriven again), and hoped we weren't among the *lukewarm and lazy* who didn't bother to come to yesterday's Holy Hour for the Conversion of Australia. Ouch!


Don't get me wrong! I much prefer a priest, like Fr Rowe, who reiterates the need for us to strive to save our souls by God's grace, to the sort who let one slumber in indifference.


At least I finished Matins from the Breviary before Mass, and got Lauds done in stages before, during! and after it. On to the Little Hours...


The Church this Sexagesima puts before us Noe and the Ark, that sole refuge in the mighty flood, figure of the Church extra quam nulla salus, at Matins; St Paul, Doctor of the Gentiles, in the Collect and Epistle (connecting nicely with the feast of his Conversion on Friday - in the modern Office, St John Chrysostom, read that day, well put it that the history of that great Apostle shews us to what heights graced human nature may reach, holding him a great exemplar and inspiration for all); and the Gospel Parable of the Sower as alluded to above.

...and he died

Last night, fairly desultorily looking through the readings for Septuagesima week that I didn't read, having used the Liturgy of the Hours instead, I recalled a striking sermon -which I'd thought was Newman's, but can't track down now - regarding Genesis 5, part of which was appointed for Saturday at Matins:

5:1 This is the book of the generation of Adam. In the day that God created man, he made him to the likeness of God. 2 He created them male and female; and blessed them: and called their name Adam, in the day when they were created. 3 And Adam lived a hundred and thirty years, and begot a son to his own image and likeness, and called his name Seth. 4 And the days of Adam, after he begot Seth, were eight hundred years: and he begot sons and daughters. 5 And all the time that Adam lived came to nine hundred and thirty years, and he died.

6 Seth also lived a hundred and five years, and begot Enos. 7 And Seth lived after he begot Enos, eight hundred and seven years, and begot sons and daughters. 8 And all the days of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years, and he died. 9 And Enos lived ninety years, and begot Cainan. 10 After whose birth he lived eight hundred and fifteen years, and begot sons and daughters.

11 And all the days of Enos were nine hundred and five years, and he died. 12 And Cainan lived seventy years, and begot Malaleel. 13 And Cainan lived after he begot Malaleel, eight hundred and forty years, and begot sons and daughters. 14 And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years, and he died. 15 And Malaleel lived sixty-five years, and begot Jared.

16 And Malaleel lived after he begot Jared, eight hundred and thirty years, and begot sons and daughters. 17 And all the days of Malaleel were eight hundred and ninety-five years, and he died. 18 And Jared lived a hundred and sixty-two years, and begot Henoch. 19 And Jared lived after he begot Henoch, eight hundred years, and begot sons and daughters. 20 And all the days of Jared were nine hundred and sixty-two years, and he died.

21 And Henoch lived sixty-five years, and begot Mathusala. 22 And Henoch walked with God: and lived after he begot Mathusala, three hundred years, and begot sons and daughters. 23 And all the days of Henoch were three hundred and sixty-five years. 24 And he walked with God, and was seen no more: because God took him. 25 And Mathusala lived a hundred and eighty-seven years, and begot Lamech.

26 And Mathusala lived after he begot Lamech, seven hundred and eighty-two years, and begot sons and daughters. 27 And all the days of Mathusala were nine hundred and sixty-nine years, and he died. 28 And Lamech lived a hundred and eighty-two years, and begot a son. 29 And he called his name Noe, saying: This same shall comfort us from the works and labours of our hands on the earth, which the Lord hath cursed. 30 And Lamech lived after he begot Noe, five hundred and ninety-five years, and begot sons and daughters.

31 And all the days of Lamech came to seven hundred and seventy-seven years, and he died. ...

Each of the antediluvian patriarchs is enumerated, and each formulaic entry ends, after giving their tale of long years: "...and he died."

Septuagesima week recalls the Creation, the Fall, and the terrible effects of the Fall on fallen man: suffering, breakdown of harmony, the first murder, and death, "the wages of sin".

Death is common to all.

I heard the voice of...

I felt pretty tired and headache-y when I got up yesterday morning; couldn't drag myself further than the kitchen, so I sat there, eyes closed, sore-headed, feeling sorry for myself. I did have the benefit, tho', of hearing my housemates singing Lauds in our chapel (you could say we are fairly Catholic!), and it was really wonderful, especially since the tones for the psalmody were so melodious. Somehow, the awful noise each man thinks he's making (speaking only for myself: I can't sing immediately upon awaking) becomes a fine strong sound when heard from a slight remove. So I did pray Lauds yesterday shortly after 6am, despite not making a sound: because that's what participatio actuosa truly is, really partaking of the liturgical act of Christ and His Church, by uniting one's heart and all else to what's going on to the extent possible, raising one's mind to God - De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine.


After the others finished singing the Tota pulchra - we add something Marian after Lauds - they came in, and one found for me some panadol, after taking which I went back to bed for the morning, till I felt better. Thanks, guys!


In the evening, it was time to head out and attend Low Mass for the feast of the Conversion of St Paul, after making a quick confession beforehand: the last few days have been difficult. The Pro. was not so much like an oven as like a sauna - it was warm but not humid outside, but inside the sweat ran through my hair. At least, when I joined the others for Friday Night Catechism in the parish centre, the air-conditioning was on!


My laptop has been fixed, thanks be, but the Internet connexion at home is playing up (Murphy's Law in action). At least I could watch a DVD before turning in for the night.

Book Shopping

When I hold my hands up to the light, I can see the light through gaps between my pressed-together fingers: the sure sign of a spendthrift!


Have money, will visit bookshops... I've bought lots of nice tomes, such as Catholicism for Dummies; a copy of the [Novus] Ordo 2008; the three volumes of Alan Marshall's semi-autobiography (I Can Jump Puddles, This is the Grass, and In Mine Own Heart); the complete science fiction of Cordwainer Smith in two volumes (When the People Fell and We the Underpeople); Jared Diamond's Collapse, about whether societies change or die in response to environmental change; The Story of Tibet, drawing on interviews with the Dalai Lama; Manelli's Jesus Our Eucharistic Love; Give yourself to Christ, a collection of the first homilies of Pope Benedict; The Apostles, the same Pontiff's General Audiences on the Twelve and others of the first Christians; Sister Wendy's Meditations on the Mysteries of Our Faith, commenting on paintings of Duccio; and, last but not least, the full fifteen volume reprint set of Abbot Gueranger's The Liturgical Year, which I've wanted for ages but could never previously afford.


Deo gratias. Now, to read them all...


Oh, and I also bought the DVD boxed set of From the Earth to the Moon; and have ordered The Cult of Alien Gods: H.P. Lovecraft and Extraterrestrial Pop Culture. H/T to Fr Bernard, O.P., for alerting me to this Rhode Islander's oeuvre!