To do something for the poor

Feeding the hungry, at the Summer School

There has been an interesting little spat in the Com box over at Fr Blake's blog, about whether we should give cash to beggars without discrimination. Personally, I'm in favour of loving them without discrimination; this love does not invariably direct us to hand cash over. Would we hand over a syringe full of heroine, or a bottle of meths? There may be very little difference.

In fact giving people money is often the easy option: it is quick, it is simple, there are no ramifications to worry about, no ongoing relationship, and no superior people in the com box to say you are being patronising. The Bones has written a lot over the years about talking to the homeless, helping them with often complex practical problems, supporting them in their dealings with the authorities. This takes time, emotional energy, even a degree of experience and specialist knowledge. There is an important apostolate here, especially now that the Citizens' Advice Bureau has lost so many branches,
if the Church wanted to get involved in a systematic way. It would be a lot more complicated than handing over the price of a bus fare at the presbytery door after listening to a sob story you can't bring yourself to believe.

Passing on practical aspects of Catholic culture: the Summer School

The idea that all problems can be solved with money, or at least with physical resources, is something which, without anyone explicitly believing it, might be called the guiding principle of the Welfare State. It is a paradox of the philosophy of action that you can be guided by a belief which you actually think is false, when you stop to think. We need to free ourselves from it. St Theresa of Calcutta said:

“You, in the West, have millions of people who suffer such terrible loneliness and emptiness. They feel unloved and unwanted. These people are not hungry in the physical sense, but they are in another way. They know they need something more than money, yet they don't know what it is.

“What they are missing, really, is a living relationship with God.”

Giving witness to the Faith: the LMS Oxford Pilgrimage

More broadly, the current generation of young people, indeed of young parents, have been deprived of cultural, emotional, and intellectual resources. Materialists will tell us we are all very well off, but we aren't, most people are poor. Most illiterate people 100 years ago, on the eve of the Great War, had ways of making sense of the world, and of conducting relationships to protect themselves and their children, which are today the preserve of an elite. No one at all today has even the chance of the kind of community, whether based on village or city block or parish, which was taken for granted a century ago, a community of mutual support and shared moral assumptions.

Passing on the Faith to children: Fr Booth talking about Bl Dominic Barberi at the Summer School

The ordinary work of the Church, the liturgy, the sacraments, teaching catechism to children, receiving converts, is not an alternative activity, competing for scarce resources, with the service of the poor. It is a service of the poor. It is a way of giving resources to those who need them to live a full life, a life of more than bare existence, of meaningless intermittent pleasure and pain.

Walsingham Pilgrimage last year

But we need to do more, we need to preserve and pass on a broader culture, an understanding of history, music, art. We need to strengthen a sense of Catholic identity, of Catholic solidarity and community, shared songs and spirituality, shared experiences, mutual understanding, sympathy, advice. This sounds like a tall order: it is a lot more than a soup-kitchen can deliver. But that is exactly what the St Catherine's Trust seeks to do with the Family Retreat and the Summer School, and it is what the Latin Mass Society is doing with our Pilgrimages and conferences.

I'm not suggesting that trads are the only people addressing these problems. Rather, I'm suggesting that the way to address them may already be under our noses. Perhaps people should stop lamenting the fact that the 'Church should be doing more', and enable the Church to do more by getting involved in the things which are already happening in the Church. As T.S. Eliot wrote:

The desert is not remote in southern tropics
The desert is not only around the corner,
The desert is squeezed in the tube-train next to you,
The desert is in the heart of your brother.

Walsingham Pilgrimage on the Holy Mile to the Holy House

St Philomena triumphs in the Wirral

A devotional image of St Philomena,
in Our Lady of Willesden, London

A year ago our old friend Mgr Basil Loftus wrote (14th April 2012) to The Tablet of his annoyance at the 'sumptuousness' of a Mass celebrated before Bishop Mark Davies to mark the arrival of the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest in his diocese. He added:

It seems counter-productive for the church in question to include St Philomena in the title of dedication. On 14th February 1961, in a sweepout of "saints" whose holiness or even very existinece was dubious, the Act Apostolicae Sedis generously allowed that they could remain in local liturgical calendars, but not in the unversal one, except for St Philomena - she was to be "expunged from all calendars whatsoever" (1961, p174). So unless the church concerned intends to treat that instruction with contempt, they have adopted a subsidiary title which they can never celebrate.

He must be chewing the carpet now that the shrine to St Philomena in the church has been progressively restored, and, two days after her traditional feast day, the Lottery Fund has given a large sum of money for the restoration of the church. St Philomena has been at it again.

The fact is that this was always the dedication of the church: SS Peter & Paul and St Philomena. And while we may argue about the merits of the changes to the calendar made in 1961, devotion to, the cult of, St Philomena, has never been suppressed. It follows that it is permissible to celebrate Mass in her honour on any free day.

St Philomena in the Seminary of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, of the
Fraternity of St Peter in the USA

Removing saints from calendars is something which has happened a lot over the course of history, not, usually, because the saint is dubious, but because the calendar is full. There is no necessary connection with the suppression of a cult to the saint. In the case of St Philomena it coincided with a debate about her historicity, and this has confused matters. It may even have been in the minds of the people who issued the decree (the Congregation for Rites: the 'Acta' is simply the published record of decrees from different bodies, it doesn't decree things itself). But they did not move to supress the cult. Notably, no attempt was made to change the titles of churches dedicated to St Philomena: indeed, the Bishop of Mysore in India wrote to the Sacred Congregation for Rites for clarification on this very point, having a very large and impressive Cathedral of St Philomena on his hands. They told him not to worry. It is still there, and still dedicated to St Philomena, as resplendent in its neo-Gothic glory as ever. You can't just pretend it's not there.

Not only that, but the authorities have continued to distribute her relics for the establishment of shrines in her honour. The National Shrine in the USA got one in 1991, and another in 1994. The international shrine in Italy at Mugnano also still exists.

The church since the Council has often seemed to generate confusion, with radicals promoting their agenda on the basis of legal actions which don't quite manage to do what they claim they do. This is no exception. St Philomena enrages modernists because, apart from the fact of her bones being found in the catacombs, the basis of her cult is supernatural, not historical. Although nothing of substance is known about her, she became popular because of the miracles she worked in response to prayer, notably for St Jean Vianney, who himself built a shrine to her in his church. She gives the lie to the notion that the saints are there just for imitation, not for intercession, and that facts of history must be separated from matters of faith. She is, truly, a saint for our times.

The Shrine of St Philomena in SS Peter & Paul in the Wirral,
last time I was there: passion tide, when the images were all veiled.

As far as the historical questions are concerned, a tomb was opened in 1802 and her bones, and a vial of her blood, were found, indicating that she died a martyr. A lot of the controversy has raged over the seemly rather trivial question of exactly what the inscription on the tomb was supposed to say. For the latest research, concluded in 2005, see here. We now know that she died in about 202 AD, under the Emperor Septimus Severus, the same year as SS Felicity and Perpetua, two virgin martyrs recorded in the Roman Canon.

As a historical footnote, the liturgical reformer Bugninni wanted to get rid of the Roman Canon because he thought some of the saints mentioned are historically dubious. Well, they are still there - even in the Novus Ordo. But he is entering a well-deserved oblivion.

Last call for the Walsingham Pilgrimage

Don't get left behind!

The is your last chance to sign up for the LMS Pilgrimage to Walsingham, which takes place from Friday 23rd to Sunday 25th.

In a word, we'll walk from Ely 55 miles or so to Walsingham, in the footsteps of our Catholic predecessors, praying, singing, attending the Traditional Mass, in the company of our great Chaplains, a number of seminarians, and upwards of 70 fellow pilgrims (bigger than last year!).

Get yourself a pair of walking boots and a tent, if you've not got them, and sign up today! We want to draw the shutter down on bookings this weekend. Don't delay!

Sign up here.

Liturgical symbolism

A symbolic washing, but an efficacious sacramental cleansing. 

Here's another sorry rant from Mgr Basil Loftus. The Catholic Times, 28th July.

One of the more incomprehensible rulings from the Congregation for Divine Worship was that the practice is consecrating a single vessel of wine, and then dividing it between several chalices before Communion, was forbidden. why? Because the single vessel - usually a jug - was not a 'chalice' within the meaning of the rubric. This action of distributing the Precious Blood from a single vessel into several, perfectly symbolised the sharing from 'the one cup', but tough - 'no, you can't', unless of course you feel that Holy Father Francis's 'liturgical emancipation' covers this regulation as well.

And symbolism is of no real use if it is less than generous. A dab with an oily rag does not symbolise the healing power of Christ in the way that liberally poured oil during the Sacrament of the Sick does. A dribble of water from a mother-of-pearl shell does not symbolise baptismal cleansing from original sin in the way that dunking the baby in a bath of water does.
...
If through over-emphasis on the numinous, or Godly, we try through the liturgy to create Heaven on earth, we compromise our theological understanding of both. Life in Heaven is our goal; earthly life is the means to it. Christ's ordained [sic] that his Mystical Body on earth, his Church, should be sustained, grow, and be propagated thorough the earthly act of marital sexual intercourse. ...

Commenting regularly on Loftus' output gives me the chance to address many of the classical positions of liturgical progressives. Here we are with what Fr Tim Finigan said was once called the critique of 'thimble symbols'. As Fr Tim points out, there is a tension within the progressive mindset between wanting to use loads of water and oil and bread and other symbols in the liturgy, and also wanting everything to be stripped down, simplified, minimised and so on.

A symbolic sprinkling of a symbolic (empty) coffin, but a genuine blessing for the deceased.

I think Loftus, and the bygone progressive liturgical orthodoxy he hankers after, has forgotten what symbols are. A symbol is one thing which stands for another thing. It is clear, and communicates its symbolic meaning well, when people understand the connection between the two things. When a bishop gives up his silver crozier, a symbolic shepherd's crook, and decides to use a literal shepherd's crook, it is not a better symbol, it is no symbol at all. A shepherd's crook is a sign of the shepherd's role and authority over his flock, it identifies him as a shepherd; by extension the bishop's crozier symbolises his own role and authority. The bishop's role is not that of a shepherd - not literally - it just has a certain parallel. When he gives up his crozier for a simple crook, he abandons the symbolic indications - stylisation, decoration, use of precious metal - which communicate the fact that he is not a simple shepherd looking after sheep, but a bishop looking after Christians. Those things were necessary to indicate that it was, in fact, a symbol: that this object was standing for something which it wasn't, literally, in itself.

Similarly with the water used in baptism. We have a symbolism of washing: true. Literal washing washes away dirt. Baptism removes Original Sin. We know something more than a baby having a bath is going on precisely because we are not dipping the baby in a bath: precisely because we are using a small amount of water from a silver shell (I've never seen a 'mother of pearl shell' used in baptism).

Loftus seems to be making the mistake of St Peter at the Last Supper. 'Not my feet only!' he says: wash all of me! But Our Lord didn't need to take the disciples down to the bathhouse and douse them with soapsuds to make His point: a symbolic washing, a symbolic act of service, was sufficient.

A symbolic procession with palms. We aren't literally entering Jerusalem.

The impractibility of Loftus' liturgical suggestions is laughable. I don't think many seriously ill people would welcome the great Monsignore tipping a can of oil over them, and their beds, as they lie in hospital; a bathroom is not the best place for a baptism. This kind of thinking leads to the kind of irreverent and home-made liturgies which gave the 1970s a bad name. They communicate something, all right: that Fr has a screw loose, and that no-one older than 12 should be seen dead in church.

Talking of bathrooms, the pouring of the Precious Blood from one container into another is a bit too much like a toddler playing with bath toys for my taste. Loftus takes exception to the liturgical law on this point, but is apparently afraid of the reason for it, so he ignores it. This is what Redemptionis Sacramentum says:

[106.] However, the pouring of the Blood of Christ after the consecration from one vessel to another is completely to be avoided, lest anything should happen that would be to the detriment of so great a mystery. Never to be used for containing the Blood of the Lord are flagons, bowls, or other vessels that are not fully in accord with the established norms.

It is pretty obvious that, although the 'norms' on vessels for the Precious Blood are one consideration, it is not the main one. What do they mean, 'lest anything should happen that would be to the detriment' of the Precious Blood? I don't think this is a difficult question: they are talking about the risk of spilling it.

The problematic consequences of the routine distribution of the Precious Blood to the Faithful to large congregations simply go on and on. Great swathes of Redemptionis Sacramentum is taken up with them. But that is a topic for another day.

The Ashes are a sign of penance more practicable, but no less efficacious, than sitting in sackcloth and ashes.

His last remarks about not wanting the liturgy to be too reminiscent of the supernatural, is just too bizarre to need further comment. There really are people who think that: liturgies which don't allow you to raise your thoughts above the mundane are not accidental, but very often quite deliberate.

Renewing baptismal promises

The other day we went to the churches of our baptism to fulfil the requirements of the Plenary Indulgence for year of Faith: to renew one's baptismal promises in the church where one was baptised, with the usual conditions.

I was baptised in St Mary's Cadogan Street, a very fine church not far from the then family home.

We then went to where my wife was baptised: Our Lady of Victories, in High Street Kensington.

I've always rather liked this church, the way it is hidden down an alley off High Street Ken is rather fun, it is like a little Catholic secret. As we went in, we could smell fresh paint: there has clearly been a big renovation, and it's not finished yet.

The fashion for putting the font in the sanctuary has passed, thank goodness, but I was sad to see what must have been side chapels turned into nothing more than a shelf for a devotional image and a candle-stand. The most egregious example can be seen if you follow a large sign to the 'Chapel of St Thomas More and St John Fisher.' I've been writing about this in my last post.

Can you have a chapel without an Altar in it? Is it a chapel if you can't have Mass there? It just seems a bit odd.

No doubt the renovation was an improvement, they nearly always are these days, as we slowly recover from the horrors of the 1960s and 1970s. But it was clearly also a slightly missed opportunity.

Dome of Home to get a Lottery grant

The Church of SS Peter and Paul and St Philomena in the Wirral, which was entrusted, as a shrine, to the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest by Bishop Mark Davies of Shrewsbury, has been awarded a grant for urgently needed repairs. It is fine church and a very important local landmark.

Read about it here.

The 'Dome of Home', so named because the distinctive copper dome can be seen from afar by returning fishermen and sailors, is a local centre for the Blessed Sacrament; they have an absolutely enormous monstrance which has to be winched into position on a special lift - all part of the original design - and of course of the Traditional Latin Mass, to which the Institute is committed.



The Institute has a great reputation for restoring fine old churches, and it was an inspired decision of Bishop Davies to entrust the church, which had been more or less disused for a few years, to them. Canon Montjean and his lay supporters have not let him down. Wonderful news!



The photographs are from a trip I made there in Passiontide.

Loftus on Tabernacle and Altar

I have fallen seriously behind in my critiques of Mgr Basil Loftus' tiresome scribblings, because of the Summer School, Evangelium Conference, and on-going preparations for the LMS Walsingham Pilgrimage. But since I have been writing (in part in response to him) on Pius XII's views on Tabernacles and Altar, this letter of his in The Tablet, published on 3rd August, is too good - or bad - to miss.

Annual Requiem for the Latin Mass Society in Westminster Cathedral

The Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament is the greatest single obstacle to the proper celebration of the liturgy in very many of our churches. Many were built as shrines to the reserved sacrament rather than as spaces for eucharistic assemblies, and the vast sanctuaries, keeping people at a “respectful” distance from the tabernacle, to which all eyes are drawn, easily become even more disproportionate when they are “extended … into the crossing or even the nave” (Parish Practice, 27 July). 

Daniel McCarthy’s splendid suggestions about the readoption of an ambo go a long way to resolving the problem of “a place for everyone”, but will only succeed if the concept of an ambo as an “empty tomb” is seen to trump that of an occupied tabernacle.

One of the consistent features of Loftus' output is that as well as being theologically wrong-headed, he makes the most ludicrous historical claims. Shrines to the Blessed Sacrament? It sounds quite nice, but it's not accurate.

In cathedrals we have always had the Blessed Sacrament in a special chapel, where people can pray without distraction. Look at the High Altar in Westminster Cathedral (above), and the High Altar at another fairly grand church, such as Our Lady of Willesden (which like the Cathedral has a baldachino: a little roof over the Altar: below), and the presence of the tabernacle clearly makes very little difference to the design or architectural focus. Westminster Cathedral's High Alter clearly wasn't designed as a 'shrine to the reserved sacrament': He wasn't there. So on what basis does Loftus say that a place like Willesden was?

LMS Pilgrimage to Our Lady of Willesden

The focus, in fact, is on the Altar of Sacrifice, and it focuses attention on the sacred Action at that Altar, the Mass - which is, if you really insist on the terminology, the focus and apex of the Eucharistic Assembly. The Altar of Sacrifice is joined to the tabernacle, when it is joined to the tabernacle, and this is appropriate because it draws out the connection between Our Lord in the tabernacle and Our Lord in the Mass - as Pius XII explained.

Moving down the scale of liturgical grandeur, we have side chapels which, again, have no tabernacles. All the architectural features remain, on a smaller scale, to frame and focus our attention on the celebrant and what he is doing.

Low Mass at the LMS Training Conference in Ratcliffe College

One interesting and slightly strange modern phenonemon which I have encountered is the chapel without an Altar, and even exposition without an Altar; of course we are all used to seeing taberbnacles without an Alter anywhere near them, a biscuit-tin stuck on a wall. This reflects the liturgical modernist's desire to have as few Altars as possible, but the result is that it severs the connection between the Blessed Sacrament, the shrine, or devotional image, from the Mass, indeed from the liturgy. Does this reflect the insight of Vatican II, that the Liturgy is the Source and Summit of the Church's life?

St Patrick's Soho Square: the subdeacon had to stand in the space behind the Communion Rail...

Oh but Loftus wants to end reservation altogether. He doesn't want us to be able to engage in contemplative prayer under the gaze of Our Lord in the tabernacle, like the peasant of Ars, who said to St Jean Vianney: 'I look at Him, and He at me.' Perhaps he doesn't even want people to have Communion on their deathbeds - it's not clear if a cupboard in the sacristy would be an acceptable substitute. It is hard to shed the idea that Loftus just doesn't like the Blessed Sacrament very much. He prefers the Empty Tomb. Well Our Lord didn't - He left it, after all. It is the tabernacle which He chooses to inhabit.

...and kneel between the open Communion Rail gates.

I have other news for Loftus, however. The size of the sanctuary in older churches was not to keep people at a 'respectful distance' from the tabernacle. Anyone going into a small church, or the Blessed Sacrament chapel of a very big one, can see that a 'respectful distance' from the tabernacle in traditional church architecture is a couple of yards. No, these spaces were actually required for the celebration of Solemn Mass (and, in certain churches, for clergy or religious to sit in choir). Loftus may have forgotten how this works, but, while Solemn Mass is possible in a smallish church, 'forward Altars' which reduce the room for manoeuvre in the sanctuary can hamper things considerably, as the above photos of St Patrick's Soho Square show.

In the largest and grandest church in the whole world, St Peter's in Rome, what is deemed an appropriate distance between the Faithful kneeling in prayer and the tabernacle? See for yourselves: here it is, below.

The Blessed Sacrament chapel in St Peter's Basilicia in Rome,
with Cardinal Castrillon saying Mass for the Una Voce General Assembly.