Loading ...
In Honor of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
May 2nd, 2008 at 6:30 PM
Presented by
The Oratory of the Sacred Heart
at
The Church of the Guardian Angel
193 Tenth Avenue at 21st Street
Manhattan
C, E trains to 23rd Street Station
M23 Bus to 10th Avenue
For information: (917) 535-2054
flier here
A while back, I read The Heresy of Formlessness by Martin Mosebach, a marvelous book about the crisis in the liturgy and in the Church. At the time, I planned a lengthy review, but months have now intervened and now, lest the opportunity slip completely from me, I thought I should scratch together at least a sketch of why I think this book is such a fine one.
Mosebach is a novelist, in Germany, and thus writes with an author’s eye and pen, rather than with a philosophers sharp quill and deduction. Which is not to say the book is fluffy or poorly reasoned; in fact, quite the opposite. Unlike many of the diatribes of traditionalists bewailing the failed state of things today — and despite the sad necessity of such cris du coeur — Mosebach takes his reader on a journey through the affective dimension of contemporary Catholic life as viewed by one steeped in the broad tradition of the West and thoroughly transformed by Christ and his Church.
There is argument here, but not the typical kind. Mosebach’s evident purpose is to give a warm robe to the sometimes dry subject of correct liturgical praxis and theological orthodoxy. We need excoriators of the false in the new and scholars of the minutiae of the old; but we also need compelling testaments to the life of beauty and joy that follow from the humble heart guided by the age-old practices of the Faith. It’s similar to the 118th psalm: a book-length celebration of the joy of a life lived according to the new law, written for today’s Church, which has fallen into a state of affairs not unlike Judaism just before King Josiah reformed it, where everything seems to have been forgotten.
One of the most winning and compelling points that he makes is to admit what a sad state of affairs it is, for a well-lived Catholic life, to have to be debating these matters at all. How ridiculous and destructive it is, he points out, that ordinary folk merely trying to live in Christ should have to pore over liturgical documents and become amateur scholars merely to retain the heritage that is theirs by right.
In short, this is a fine book to read: for those who already agree, to be consoled and informed, yes, but also to be reminded of what the wonderful fruit of final success in restoring tradition shall be. But it is perhaps even a better book for the literate and well-meaning but dubious modern who wonders what all this traditionalism business is about. If I had the guts or position, I might ask someone like George Weigel to give it a read (though Fr. Fessio’s rather lame Foreword suggests that some good people just won’t “get it”). But, my dear reader, what are you waiting for? Buy it yourself!
Fr. George Rutler, of Our Saviour’s Church in Manhattan, has a blistering, delightful review of Piero Marini’s book on the reform of the liturgy in the newest edition of First Things. Since it’s only for subscribers now, I thought I’d pull a couple of choice bits out to encourage people to read the whole thing. It’s a sore point among traditional Catholics, but I maintain that, whatever unfortunate material sometimes appears on its pages, First Things is a magazine that should be read by most thoughtful Catholics. But leaving that argument for later, a bit from Fr. Rutler:
“To young people today, Vatican II reposes in a haze with Nicaea II and Lateran II. Their guileless ignorance at least frees them from the animus of some aging liturgists who thought that the Second Vatican Council defined a whole new anthropological stage in the history of man. The prolix optimism of many interpreters of that council has now taken on a patina—not that of fine bronze but more like the discoloration of a Bauhaus building.”
Continue reading
There is an old and learned priest, presently my confessor, of whom I heard an illustrative story. He heads a college seminary, and once when he was in the confessional a seminarian, writing a thesis on moral theology, came to him to confess. When the boy had finished, Father began his remarks by explaining the difference between a mortal and a venial sin. When the seminarian interposed that he didn’t need the explanation, noting that his thesis was on a related topic, Father shot back, “that’s not relevant here!”
The point, if I may expand, is that in this present darkness we humans can easily reach firm convictions and comprehension in our intellectual considerations that utterly fail to penetrate our lives generally. While this is an old theme, I return to it now because of late there has been some back-channel discussion among this site’s contributors about what does and doesn’t constitute prudent matter for discussion in this forum. I don’t want to address that question directly, though readers may leave their thoughts if they wish. Rather, I think a more interesting question is how a Christian views himself, his intellect, and his work in light of the demands of virtue, living under the shadow of the cross.
Continue reading
Rote prayer gets a bad rap. We are given to believe that there is nothing so bad as saying a fifth Hail Mary in a row without quite having a heart overflowing with devotion, when one might instead be — say — making a common duty into a prayer, exploring a traditional meditation, or some such thing. And why not? ‘Words without thoughts never to heaven go,’ as that, ah, devout king says in a certain theatrical production. It’s useless praying away, multiplying words with an empty heart, thinking that a few more times through a long and ornate paragraph that even we aren’t paying attention to will act an incantation, winning us God’s favor and with it, maybe, a nice run of luck.
But is that all there is to it? The image of the devout ancient filipina tearing through rosary 8 or 17 before cutting ahead of you for communion, or the cruel eyed unreconstructed monk scrupulously reading his office while living a pharisaical and joyless vocation? I hardly think so.
We were sent this announcement by one of our correspondents, who happens to have volunteered his very able services for my and C.S.’s nuptial Mass, and who will likely be serving at the Mass in question:
On February 2, there will be a traditional Solemn Mass at Our Lady of Good Counsel in New York City. The church is located at 230 East 90th Street, between 2nd & 3rd Ave.
The traditional blessing of candles will start at 1pm. There will then be a procession inside then church before the beginning of the Solemn Mass.
Fr. Richard Trezza will be the Celebrant, Fr. Matthew Talarico (ICK) will be the Deacon and Fr. James Miara will be the Subdeacon.
All are welcome to attend! And may I say that Candlemas, or the Feast of the Purification, is the end of the Christmas season, and I can think of no better way to close out this holy Season of our Lord’s Birth than by attending such a celebration.
Today is the birthday of a virgin; let us imitate her purity. It is the birthday of a martyr; let us offer ourselves in sacrifice. It is the birthday of Saint Agnes, who is said to have suffered martyrdom at the age of twelve.
The cruelty that did not spare her youth shows all the more clearly the power of faith in finding one so young to bear it witness. There was little or no room in that small body for a wound. Though she could scarcely receive the blow, she could rise superior to it. Girls of her age cannot bear even their parents’ frowns and, pricked by a needle, weep as for a serious wound. Yet she shows no fear of the blood-stained hands of her executioners. She stands undaunted by heavy, clanking chains. She offers her whole body to be put to the sword by fierce soldiers. She is too young to know of death, yet is ready to face it. Dragged against her will to the altars, she stretches out her hands to the Lord in the midst of the flames, making the triumphant sign of Christ the victor on the altars of sacrilege. She puts her neck and hands in iron chains, but no chain can hold fast her tiny limbs.
Continue reading
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright!
The bridal of the earth and sky—
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou must die.
Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou must die.
Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,
A box where sweets compacted lie,
My music shows ye have your closes,
And all must die.
Only a sweet and virtuous soul,
Like season’d timber, never gives;
But though the whole world turn to coal,
Then chiefly lives.
– Geo. Herbert
The Latin text. The English text of the accompanying explanatory letter. This is the unofficial English translation from the Vatican of the motu proprio:
Up to our own times, it has been the constant concern of supreme pontiffs to ensure that the Church of Christ offers a worthy ritual to the Divine Majesty, ‘to the praise and glory of His name,’ and ‘to the benefit of all His Holy Church.’
Since time immemorial it has been necessary - as it is also for the future - to maintain the principle according to which ‘each particular Church must concur with the universal Church, not only as regards the doctrine of the faith and the sacramental signs, but also as regards the usages universally accepted by uninterrupted apostolic tradition, which must be observed not only to avoid errors but also to transmit the integrity of the faith, because the Church’s law of prayer corresponds to her law of faith.’ (1)
Today is the Feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, one of only three Nativity feasts celebrated by the Church — since St. John the Baptist is one of only three people in history who left the womb without the burden of Original Sin (his having been cleansed by our Lord’s presence at the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin to St. Elizabeth).
There are two other notable things about today. First is that pictured in the chant above — the hymn from the Second Vespers of this feast is the origin of the note-names for the Solfege system, the famous Ut (later Do)-Re-Mi naming of notes, immortalized in that favorite film of a certain, slightly unbalanced, bishop of some uncertain amount of schismatism. For the full text of the hymn to St. John the Baptist from which the notes come, click here. Sing it today for the Forerunner!
Finally, today is traditionally known as Midsummer’s day, since starting today (actually, a couple of days ago), the days of the year start getting shorter — an echo in the natural world of the Baptist’s saying, Illum oportet crescere, me autem minui, He must increase, and I must decrease.
I’ve just finished reading — or, actually, listening to the audible audio version — of Pope Benedict XVI’s new book, Jesus of Nazareth: what a great service he has done for us all in writing it! It is a fine, orthodox, compelling, and densely packed invitation to get to know Jesus Christ, our Saviour and Lord, the Second person of the Holy Trinity, better, in the way He wishes us to know Him. What could be better?
There’s too much in the book to summarize its contents usefully, and since I have only the audio version thus far (I plan on buying the book itself soon), it is hard for me to pull direct quotes. In brief, the book’s goal is to expose Jesus to us as He — God — presented Himself to us. That is to say, through the mediation of scripture, tradition, and the Church. The pope early on dismisses most tracts concerned with the so-called “historical” Jesus as being mere portraits of their authors and their authors’ preconceptions, rather than giving any insight into the real Jesus.
So what does Pope Benedict give instead? Continue reading
Sometimes, between reading Mark Steyn or Theodore Dalrymple on Europe’s decay, one begins to suspect that today’s malaise is some new evil, never yet seen in the world. And in some ways, with its ties, inter alia, to Modernism, it no doubt is. But reading Democracy in America last night, I came upon this intriguing passage, wherein Tocqueville is contrasting the somewhat chaotic, but indubitably public spirited, American style of local administration to the European tendency towards centralization, with its concomitant enervation of the feelings of responsibility among citizens:
Continue reading
Please pray this novena with us, which starts today, May 31, and will go through Friday, June 8, for the President’s special intention. Please offer your prayers even if you have not joined us from the beginning!
Oh, St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God. I place in you all my interests and desires. O St. Joseph, do assist me by your powerful intercession, and obtain for me from your divine Son all spiritual blessings, through Jesus Christ our Lord, so that, having engaged here below your heavenly power, I may offer my thanksgiving and homage to the most loving of Fathers. O St. Joseph, I never weary of contemplating you, and Jesus asleep in your arms; I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in my name and kiss His fine head for me and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for me.
In many ways, contemporary American society is the closest approach to Distributist ideals that has been achieved since the late Middle Ages. This is not widely appreciated, since even the few people who have heard of Distributism are generally mistaken about its ideals and aims.
The central tenant of Distributism is that the capital — materials, land, machinery, etc — necessary to production of goods and services should be owned by those who are performing the labor to produce those services. For instance: a carpenter should own his tools and workshop; a farmer should be a freeholder who owns his own tractor, rather than a renter.
“Three acres and a cow” is the slogan people typically associate with Chesterton and the Distributist-Agrarian movement of the 1920s, an association that is probably in large part responsible for the misappreciation of what Distributism is. Continue reading
Archive for Ambrosius.
Longer entries are truncated. Click the headline of an entry to read it in its entirety.
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
