An heretical thought

...passed through Melancholicus’ mind this morning, him having been dragged from his bed to attend 8am Mass on a cold and rainy morning, and as he settled himself painfully into his pew among the wretched ‘heritage’ missals and ‘gather’ hymnals and listened aghast to the execrable plinkety-plonk of the church piano hammering out some happenin’ ditty courtesy of OCP, he suddenly thought

“I wish this was Episcopalian”.

Meaning not the presidency of a half-lesbian, half-Muslim bishoppess, but the traditional piety and decorum of the Book of Common Prayer (1928), for in the latter case, the liturgy would at least be decent.

There is a Continuing Anglican church within walking distance of Melancholicus’ house. He has not yet checked it out, and so far has resisted the temptation to do so.

But there is no Traditional Latin Mass within easy reach, and the Amchurch version of the Novus Ordo is a parody of itself and often beyond endurance. Melancholicus has never seen a religious rite as degraded and horizontal.

How long, O Lord, how long?

The Heritage Missal

Melancholicus satisfied his first Sunday obligation of the new liturgical year at the parish of St. Charles Borromeo in Tacoma, Washington. The church itself is nothing to write home about (it is an unbeautiful modern edifice dating from the late 1950s), but the resident clergy are orthodox, the liturgy is generally tasteful, and the preaching is good. One particular difference Melancholicus has noticed between churches over here and in Ireland is that there are generally no hymnals or liturgy-books in the pews of Irish churches, whereas in the United States these things abound. Whether such is a good thing is quite another matter; studying the printed materials provided in each pew (the “Gather” hymnal and suchlike), Melancholicus is less than impressed, and has often wished that American Catholics cared more for the modern equivalent of Low Mass (Irish style). This because the fare to be found in these books seldom rises above the level of tawdry mediocrity, and the pathetic little ditties often employed in American churches in lieu of sacred music serve only to make one cringe.

Since last week the pews have been filled with brand-spanking-new copies of a paperback volume called “Heritage Missal”. This is published afresh for each liturgical year, and contains the Mass ordinary and the propers, including readings, for each day. This in itself is a useful function, as it obviates the need for those wretched missalettes which litter the floors and porches of churches in Ireland. But because the propers are set out day by day according to the civil calendar, the missal is good for one year only, is out of date the following year, and must be replaced by the next current edition. Accordingly, there is an annual turnover of these cheap paperback missals, which no doubt generates tremendous revenue for the publisher. Hence the reason it is re-issued every year. One can only conclude that the American Church has too much money if it can afford to fritter it away on such disposable resources.

The “Heritage Missal”—which Melancholicus can only declare is a misnomer, since there’s precious little heritage in it—is published by an organisation named OCP, or Oregon Catholic Press. This organisation makes a tidy profit churning out these throwaway missals year after year; every church Melancholicus has visited in Tacoma has sported them. A visit to the OCP website reveals that this organisation is a vehicle of the liturgical revolution. OCP publishes the musical compositions of people such as Michael Joncas, Dan Schutte, David Haas, Paul Inwood, Marty Haugen et al—a veritable Who’s Who of songsters that Traditional Catholics love to hate (not without reason). Wikipedia gives us the sobering information that the products of OCP are used in two-thirds of all Catholic churches in the U.S. The result of this near monopoly is a tyranny of the mediocre, since the “Heritage Missal” contains not only the Mass propers, but all the music composed for those propers by third-rate artistes. Thus we get jolly little ditties pitched at grade school level; weak paraphrases of the psalms; jarring modern ‘hymns’ with a pop beat; anthropocentric ‘feel-good’ clap-trap, and other obscenities. There is the occasional kernel of wheat among the chaff; last Sunday’s Mass featured the traditional Advent hymn Creator Alme Siderum in a decent English translation, and to the same melody familiar to users of the Liber Usualis, but overall, the musical contents of the “Heritage Missal” must be judged inadequate for the holy sacrifice of the Mass.

This is tremendously frustrating for those faithful who abhor the triumph of bad taste, not only because of the poor quality of these compositions in themselves, but because of their perpetuity; by printing an annual missal in which such musical settings are included, OCP maintains a stranglehold on Catholic liturgy in the U.S. At present, there is small hope that the depressed state of the liturgy will be relieved; the domination of musical arrangements by the mafia of the mediocre is too firmly entrenched. The forthcoming revised translation of the Roman Missal may have some impact, but owing to the looseness of contemporary liturgical law, in which musical compositions need not follow the authorized text of the Mass verbatim, there is no reason why the same old ’seventies folk-songs (together with ’seventies ICEL) will not continue to irritate Mass-goers yearning for a little solemnity for a generation or more to come.

We might ask: who owns OCP? Is it a private concern? Is it answerable to the bishops? In either case, there must be some way of compelling it to forget about the spirit of Vatican II and conform instead to the principles of the Benedictine reform. If OCP is a private concern, perhaps the dioceses of the United States could cease purchasing its products, and turn instead to a more orthodox, Catholic-minded publisher who would be only too delighted to assist in the reform of the reform, and make a good living in the process. But if it is an organ of the conciliar church, it will doubtless continue to exercise its baleful influence long after Joncas, Haugen, Haas, Inwood et al are all dead.

Small wonder hardly anybody joins in the singing at Mass; most are probably as embarrassed by it as Melancholicus.

The spirit of Vatican II rages against the dying of the light. We might have landed the troops in Normandy (liturgically speaking), but there is a long and bitter fight ahead of us before we stand finally at the gates of Berlin. In the meantime, OCP will continue to churn out volume after volume of the so-called “Heritage Missal” until either legitimate authority or market forces compel them to stop. At present there is no indication that either source of relief will be forthcoming.

The prospects are gloomy.

Sodality of Our Lady retreat

As he remarked in this post last December, Melancholicus feels the need for a retreat in order to clear away the cobwebs and let some sunlight into his benighted soul.

As to the contents of such a retreat, he expressed a preference for, naturally, daily Mass (usus antiquior), silence, wholesome spiritual conferences, examen and of course confession.

Members of the Sodality of Our Lady have now organised such a retreat scheduled to take place in Mount Melleray Cistercian monastery in April, and Melancholicus will be going. He can forward details to any of his Irish readers who are likewise interested in participating; just get in touch. The traditional Mass will be offered each day and, circumstances permitting, perhaps one or more of the traditional breviary offices will also be sung.

Melancholicus much misses the chanting of the office, particularly that of vespers, and more so the grandeur of first and second vespers of Sunday and of major feasts. The beauty of the Roman office chanted in choir is sublime; every now and then in maudlin mood he opens his Liber Usualis and fondly reminisces over one of the best parts of what it was like to be a seminarian in a traditionalist community. Sometimes he even goes so far as to chant the office alone. But it’s not the same.

The closest that one can come to a celebration of the traditional Roman office in Dublin is, paradoxically, solemn evensong at St. Bartholomew’s church on Clyde Road. This is an Anglo-Catholic church, which means that the liturgy is Anglican use—essentially Cranmer’s prayer book but with an admixture of Romanising elements, such as the office hymn, the plainsong antiphon at the Magnificat, the thurible, the incensing of the altar, the choir and the congregation, and the gregorian tones employed for the psalms. Driving back to Dublin on Sunday evenings for the start of his working week, Melancholicus occasionally calls in to St. Bart’s, marvelling at the beauty not only of the church itself but of the liturgy, and how strikingly it reminds him of the traditional Roman office as he knew it in seminary. It is sad that such beauty is too often alien to the liturgy as it is celebrated in Roman Catholic churches in this archdiocese.

Anyhow, I shall leave it at that, otherwise this post will descend into yet another sarcastic and bitter screed against the bugninists and the liturgical ‘reform’.

Breviarium Romanum

Even after baptism, the soul of man is afflicted with three obnoxious evils, namely the concupiscence of the flesh, the concupiscence of the eyes, and the pride of life.

Well the concupiscence of the eyes has definitely been aroused in Melancholicus since his discovery of this marvellous resource, namely a brand spanking new two-volume edition of the Breviarium Romanum — new in the sense of newly printed and bound, not in the sense of liturgically ‘renewed’, which means it’s safe for Catholics to use. It is the Johannine (1960) edition, of course.

Melancholicus already has the two-volume set of the traditional Roman Breviary given him by the FSSP on the occasion of his tonsure in October 2003, bearing the imprimatur of James Timlin, then bishop of Scranton. He has sometimes wondered if he ought not to part with it and donate it to some needy seminarist who will make more extensive use of it than Melancholicus does himself. But those two volumes are filled with such personal significance and so many memories (some of them good!) that Melancholicus cannot see himself ever returning them to their source. He will bequeathe them to his grandchildren, or if God wills that he should sire a son who will one day receive sacred ordination, he will be honoured to pass his breviary on to him. Besides, this edition is apparently now out of print, which fact makes its retention doubly desirable.

But now a new edition of this venerable liturgical book is about to be released by the German publisher Nova et Vetera. If, gentle reader, you visit their website, be warned. There are lots of pretty pictures of the new breviary and its contents and if, like Melancholicus, you have a weakness for beautifully-appointed liturgical books, you may find yourself placing an order.

At least Melancholicus has not done so himself... he will restrain the concupiscence of the eyes on this occasion, not least because the new edition costs nearly €200 and he is supposed to be saving for his wedding. His fiancée would not rejoice over such an unnecessary outlay.

H/T to Fr. Finigan, on whose blog Melancholicus first discovered this treasure.

A liturgical curiosity

In those years in which November 2 falls on a Sunday, the Mass and office of the Sunday are celebrated, and the commemoration of All Souls is transferred to November 3.

This is because Sunday is a festival day, a day for mirth and rejoicing, not fit for mourning; whence even in Lent, fasting and penance are not appropriate to the Sundays thereof.

For the same reason, requiem Masses may not be said on Sunday, nor may funerals be conducted except in cases of grave necessity.

But in our time the conciliar church has introduced a novelty into the Roman calendar, namely observance of the commemoration of All Souls on 2 November come what may, regardless of the day of the week whereon it falls.

This year 2 November was a Sunday. Melancholicus went down to his local parish church for Mass, expecting the Mass of the 31st Sunday of that most improbably named season, ‘Ordinary Time’, but finding instead the first Mass of All Souls celebrated by a priest vested in violet.

Assuming that Father had simply made an error, or had decided on his own authority to commemorate the faithful departed even on a Sunday, Melancholicus consulted the printed ordo and discovered to his surprise that this commemoration is indeed made on a Sunday in the Novus Ordo, at least when 2 November coincides with the Lord’s day.

Such a change is anti-liturgical, since it negates the festive character of Sunday, but the conciliar church has seldom shown itself sensitive to the doctrines enshrined in the symbolism underlying the organisation of the calendar.

Furthermore, given that institution’s proclivity for moving all prominent celebrations—such as the Epiphany, Ascension Thursday, Corpus Christi, &c.—from their proper days to the nearest Sunday, how long shall it be before All Souls are commemorated not on 2 November but on the Sunday nearest that date (unless such Sunday shall have been occupied already by All Saints)?

The splendour of the new rite?

Last Sunday, XVIIth after Pentecost or in the Novus Ordo calendar the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time, Melancholicus resumed the practice of fulfilling his Sunday obligation.

This was a consequence of his having been to confession the previous day, whereafter he decided (somewhat grudgingly) to make a clean sweep and obey the precept mandating Mass attendance on Sundays and holy days.

Having consumed a full bottle of wine while watching three episodes of The Wire (season 4) on Saturday night, he was unable to rise in time for the 8am Novus Ordo in the local parish; but this being the site of Judas priest’s denial of the miracle of the loaves and fishes five weeks before, he was not minded to return thither in a hurry.

Last Sunday was also the first Sunday on which choral evensong was offered again in St. Bartholomew’s after the summer hiatus, and driving back to Dublin in the afternoon Melancholicus intended to call into that Anglo-Catholic sanctuary to enjoy its exquisitely beautiful evening office.

And he would have done so, but for a persistent and annoying nagging of conscience which saw him instead stop off, with a sigh, at Sacred Heart church in Donnybrook for evening Mass.

This is a beautiful church; the liturgy, however, was decidedly less so. Mass proceded in much the same manner it has always done. There were no egregious clangers; no formal heresy was preached, no doctrines of the Church were denied, and there were no violations of liturgical norms beyond the institutionalised abuses one invariably finds at even the cleanest celebrations of the new rite. Melancholicus was also able to receive holy communion with a clear conscience. But rather than being relieved that the Mass passed off so well, and being pleased with his relief, Melancholicus was overcome with sadness and heaviness of heart. Sadness that it has come to this; sadness that the public celebration of our holy religion is reduced to the level of the horizontal; sadness that the awesome sacrifice of calvary is obscured, at least in practice, by the atmosphere of a touchy-feely community meet. Nobody seemed to regard the Mass as in any way remarkable, save for a few devout old ladies who still remember the old religion and what this most august and sacred mystery means. Sadness at the sheer unbeauty of it all.

How does Melancholicus presume to judge the attitude of his fellow congregants? Well, as far as exterior demeanour may provide a window onto one’s disposition of soul, the congregation in Donnybrook was typical of congregations all over the western world, wherever conciliar religion has taken hold. There was a great deal of conversational hubbub before Mass began, and again after it had ended. Hardly a soul bent a knee before the tabernacle. Melancholicus was particularly scandalised by a large group of persons who gathered and hob-nobbed in the nave after Mass had ended, talking and laughing volubly as though they were in the lobby of a hotel. The demeanour of not a few for the reception of holy communion is best not discussed; suffice it to say it makes one sad and angry.

The priest nowhere departed from the rubrics, but his adherence to the Cult of Man was so much in evidence it was impossible not to be aware of it. The atmosphere of casual informality was totally out of place; Father spoke like a therapist rather than a priest, warm and fuzzy and with the same disconcerting false friendliness that Melancholicus has observed among store clerks in the United States. One enters a store to buy a pack of cigarettes, or some such; upon which the assistant immediately starts tonguing one’s brown eye with startling vigour (I speak figuratively, of course). Thus, whether consciously or not, Father came across as a man pretending to be everyone’s best friend; he didn’t quite pull it off successfully, however, and the result was vaguely patronising in a certain indefinable manner. What was clear, however, was that the focus of attention was entirely on the interaction between cleric and congregation. God was referred to almost as an aside, when He was mentioned at all. There was a homily after the Gospel; it was bland but otherwise inoffensive. At least this is how Melancholicus used to rate homilies he heard at the Novus Ordo that were not openly heretical, before he woke up to the fact that bland homilies are indeed offensive, though for what they omit rather than what they contain. Last Sunday the lectionary prescribed the reading of Matthew 18:15-20. There is so much that could be said on this text; alone it would have given the apostolic fathers sufficient scope for several dozen sermons. But in church last Sunday we were presented with Jesus as manager, with an analysis of his method of conflict resolution, as though Our Lord were some first-century Judaic Cyrus Vance rather than the Son of the Most High God. While this improbable talk was in delivery, Melancholicus glanced at his watch, aware that he could still make it to St. Bart’s in time for evensong if he left Sacred Heart right away, which led to the bizarre circumstance of his actually hoping that Father would say something heretical so that he could leave. But the excuse never presented itself; the homily was merely the rhetorical equivalent of tinted steam, and Melancholicus ended up staying for the rest of it. After which we had the usual platitudinous bidding prayers—all for justice and world peace and that sort of thing—and announcements of parochial events, wherein we were told that the term of the parish pastoral council had expired and so they were looking for new members.

This is all of a piece with the praxis of the conciliar church, in which the proliferation of a lay-heavy bureaucracy is seen as evidence of growth and vitality. In fact it is nothing of the kind. A tumour in ones lungs may exhibit growth and vitality by trebling its size and spreading to other parts of one’s body, but that is hardly a matter for rejoicing for a person so afflicted. Likewise, Melancholicus cannot find it in himself to approve of the malignant growth that is parish pastoral councils, which do nothing but create busywork and talking shops and divert the most active members of the parish, both clerical and lay, away from the Church’s real mission which is the salvation of souls.

There was nothing especially hateful in the liturgy of the eucharist, but one needed a strong Catholic faith in order to remember what one was doing there. Father read the eucharistic prayer as much to the congregation as to God. After the consecration, we had that improbable hiatus “Let us proclaim in song the mystery of faith” sung to the tune of a ditty. Then followed the extremely tiresome rite of peace in which our Lord’s presence on the altar was forgotten in a miasma of glad-handing and more false friendliness redolent of the store clerk. Finally, though the congregation was not especially large, and as only two extraordinary ministers had come forward, Father informed the congregation that we could do with some help in the distribution of holy communion. Which meant that any person of any faith or none who happened to be present could assume the role of extraordinary minister at their good pleasure. Two persons did so—both women, as might be expected, and they raced up to the sanctuary with unseemly haste; one of them—a young and rather striking blonde—did not even stay until the end of Mass; having enjoyed her few minutes of glory, she took advantage of the opportunity to beat the traffic by rather conspicuously leaving the church before the dismissal. After all was said and done, almost nobody remained to make a thanksgiving for their holy communion; the congregation broke up in a noisy clamour and the doors were choked by fleeing Mass-goers attempting to reach their cars before the rush.

This is the sort of thing that transpires when the church service is all about US instead of being all about God.

It is the Cult of Man with a vengeance.

And so, even though he received Jesus in the most holy sacrament of the altar into his soul in the setting of a tolerably clean liturgy, Melancholicus was saddened, and did indeed wonder if he had done the right thing, or if he ought not to have just gone to evensong in the first place. It is admittedly difficult to discern the notes of the Catholic religion in what goes on in so many churches today, even when no formal heresy is preached and where the abuses are restricted only to those that have become commonplace and accepted.

Melancholicus does not expect the celebration of each and every Mass to be flawless to a perfect degree. But he does expect that the liturgy should evoke a sense of the sacred.

Alas, there was precious little sense of the sacred to be had in Sacred Heart church.

Some further thoughts on liturgical revision

The attempts by the Sacred Congregation for Divine Worship to arrive at an English rendering of the Novus Ordo that is actually an accurate translation of the Latin rather than an ideologically-rooted free paraphrase are certainly commendable, but to Melancholicus such efforts feel like trying to keep the Titanic afloat by bailing with a teaspoon.

If one is going to tinker with the New Mass at all, one should take a look at its several problems and correct the most glaring of them in one fell swoop. But Melancholicus supposes that the Holy See, following the time-honoured practice of the most successful liturgical revisers, wishes to proceed with this project slowly and piecemeal, lest Jesuits and other hippies be incited into open revolt by the sudden proscription of the banal and horizontal community love-fest that is their interpretation of the current ordo.

Definitive judgement must of course be reserved until we have seen the final, definitive text, but so far, judging especially from the favourable reports given it by certain trustworthy members of the clergy, the revised ordinary seems to be a vast improvement upon the original of 1970.

Two pertinent criticisms, though: the first of these is really outside the remit of translators, since Melancholicus is now talking about making adjustments to the Latin editio typica. This, of course, is beyond the competence of ICEL to arrange. But I notice we are still stuck with the exceedingly banal adaptation of a Jewish grace before meals that passes for an offertory in the new rite. No amount of accurate translation will repair a text which is likewise deficient in the original Latin; it has to be replaced instead. Perhaps this will be done at some point in the future, but as it is more than a simple matter of translation, we shall say no more about it here.

A second criticism, though, is within the remit of ICEL, and Melancholicus is disappointed that the committee has not seen fit (or has not been permitted?) to take a leaf out of the book of our Anglican cousins, for in the revised rite no provision whatever is made for the use of traditional language in the liturgy. The new version is certainly more elegant than its earlier incarnation, but almighty God is still addressed as you throughout, never as thou, except in the Our Father, a prayer which every practicing Catholic knows by heart—at least one hopes that some standardising zealot will not try to impose a “modern” version of the Lord’s prayer upon us, which would be absolutely intolerable.

An option for what the Anglicans call “traditional language” would go a long way towards creating a style of solemn, hieratic, liturgical English—which we completely lack in the Roman Catholic Church—and which could be used alongside the more pedestrian vernacular, with some Masses celebrated in English, and some in vernacular. The faithful could fulfil their Sunday obligations at one or the other, at their preference or convenience. Melancholicus thinks this an excellent idea, at least in principle—but he suspects that bishop Trautperson and his fellow travellers would suffer apoplexy at the prospect of Masses being said in liturgical English in their backyard.

*ENDNOTE: Melancholicus has seen what purports to be a copy of the proposed text of the “New New Mass”. In any case, he reckons this must be a now obsolete working draft at a much earlier stage of development, especially since the mistranslation of pro multis—which is supposed to have been amended if the reports are correct—is still present in its rendering of each of the four eucharistic prayers. Can anyone reading this vouch authoritatively for this document or the website on which it appears?

A new translation for the New Mass

From Catholic World News:

Vatican approves new English translation for Mass

Vatican, Jul. 25, 2008 (CWNews.com) - The Vatican has given formal approval to a new English translation of the central prayers of the Mass for use in the United States.

In a June 23 letter of Bishop Arthur Serratelli, the chairman of the US bishops' liturgy committee, the Congregation for Divine Worship announces its recognitio for the translation, which had already won the approval of the US bishops' conference, despite strong protests from some liberal prelates.

The new translation adheres more closely to the Latin of the Roman Missal. Since the 2001 publication of Liturgiam Authenticam, the instruction on the proper translation of liturgical texts, the Vatican has pressed for more faithful translations of the official Latin texts.

Alluding gently to the fierce debates over English-language liturgical translations in the past decade, the Congregation for Divine Worship reports "no little satisfaction in arriving at this juncture." The letter from the Vatican is signed by Cardinal Francis Arinze (bio - news) and Archbishop Albert Malcom Ranjith, the prefect and secretary, respectively, of the Congregation.

The Vatican's binding approval covers only a portion of the entire Roman Missal. The entire process of translating the Roman Missal is expected to take at least until 2010. However, the prayers given the Vatican recognitio are the most common texts for the Order of the Mass.

The Vatican approval comes just after the US bishops' conference voted against approval of another installment in the series of translations that will be required to complete the overall project.

The new translation is not to be used immediately, the Vatican letter indicates. Instead the US bishops are directed to begin "pastoral preparation" for the changes in the language of the Mass. During this same period, the Congregation for Divine Worship notes, some musical settings for the text could be prepared.

Among the noteworthy changes that Catholics will notice when the new translation goes into effect are:

• At the Consecration, the priest will refer to Christ's blood which is "poured out for you and for many"-- an accurate translation of pro multis-- rather than "for all" in the current translation.


• In the Nicene Creed the opening word, Credo, will be correctly translated as "I believe" rather than "we believe".


• When the priest says, "The Lord be with you," the faithful respond, "And with your spirit," rather than simply, "And also with you".


• In the Eucharistic prayer, references to the Church will use the pronouns "she" and "her" rather than "it".


• In the Agnus Dei, the text cites the "Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world," rather than using the singular word "sin".


• In the preferred form of the penitential rite, the faithful will acknowledge that they have sinned "through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault".

Throughout the translation of the Offertory and Eucharistic Prayer, the traditional phrases of supplication are restored, and the Church is identified as "holy"-- in each case, matching the Latin original of the Roman Missal.

This is, strictly speaking, good news, but Melancholicus finds himself unable to summon up even a modicum of enthusiasm for it.

In broad agreement with the words of a tired commentator over at the New Liturgical Movement, we might say these developments are (however positive), “too little, too late”.

It’s like a band-aid trying to cover an open and gushing wound. Like tackling a forest fire with a water pistol. Or better yet, like bolting the stable door after the horse has fled.

It is of course refreshing to see that the tendentious mistranslation of pro multis—which has exercised the spleen of many a trad at least since 1969—will now finally be corrected. Has it really taken them forty years?

But there remain so many other problems and difficulties lodged within the new rite that Melancholicus seriously doubts that it will ever be fixed—at least in the limited time left before there is no-one going to Mass any more.

The Novus Ordo—at least in its current incarnation of 1970s ICELese—is intimately familiar to those who attend it, week after week, Sunday after Sunday. They have absorbed and internalised its language, its rhythms, its outlook (and as a consequence they are no longer Catholic, but that’s a story for another day). They know it forwards, and backwards, and inside out. To start making changes—yet more changes!—will serve only to confuse and upset the faithful who have grown accustomed to the current order. This is a criticism made vociferously and repeatedly by bishop Trautperson of the Erie diocese. Now this same Trautperson (or Trautperdaughter, or whatever his inclusiveness wishes to be called) may be a screaming Amchurch liberal, but Melancholicus must admit that in this instance, he has a point. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

The fact is that even if the celebrant sticks scrupulously to the text of the revised ordinary, congregational responses such as “and also with you” may turn out to be wellnigh impossible to suppress. The current incorrect ICELese is simply too deeply rooted in the consciousness of Mass-goers. Some more liturgically-aware (or slavishly obedient) persons may embrace the new form, but the rest will continue to mumble “and also with you”, even if only out of habit. A case-study should bear this out. Back around 1968, when Irish Catholics were adjusting to the vernacular Mass for the first time, the approved translation of Habemus ad Dominum was “we raise them up to the Lord”. In the official ICELese promulgated in 1970, this text was changed to “we lift them up to the Lord”. But Irish Catholics in the pews failed to make the ICEL-mandated transition once they had accustomed themselves to the original translation, and in Ireland to this very day when the priest says Lift up your hearts we respond we raise them up to the Lord.

This and similar congregational responses are likely to remain stubbornly in use despite the best efforts of lawful authority to correct them. Such is the power of habit and custom—and the power, also, of the vernacular.

Instead of trying to fix the deficient ICELese we have been sufficiently unfortunate to inherit from the groovin’, jivin’ and swingin’ decades, we should treat this, rather, as an opportune moment for starting to sneak bits of Latin back into the new rite. Extemporising entire prayers and gratuitous departures from the text of the missal are commonplace wherever the Novus Ordo is celebrated. These abuses are facilitated by the Mass being said in vernacular. How many celebrants and liturgists could be so “creative” if they were required to compose their nonsense in Latin? Similarly with congregational responses—we have no hope of replacing the vernacular “and also with you” with the vernacular “and with your spirit”, so why not simply go back to Dominus Vobiscum / Et cum spiritu tuo in Latin? Everyone either already knows—or can very quickly learn—the proper Latin response et cum spiritu tuo. By constrast, nobody knows the Latin for “and also with you”.

And now after all that, what point is there in Melancholicus trying to make this reasoned argument? The foolish boy. Doesn’t he realise that the Novus Ordo changes all the time, even the words used in its celebration, at the whims of the celebrant and whoever else happens to have a speaking part? And that it is fair to say that most Catholics in the pews either do not notice these aberrations, or are not disturbed by them?

So what is the point, even, of trying to fix the many infirmities of the Novus Ordo? Is it not better to let it die a natural death?

Pauline year to be inaugurated at vespers on June 28th

From Catholic World News:

Ecumenical Vespers service to open Pauline year

Rome, Jun. 24, 2008 (CWNews.com) - A special year dedicated to St. Paul will be inaugurated on June 28, with a Vespers service at the Roman basilica of St. Paul outside the Walls, the Vatican has announced.

Pope Benedict XVI (bio - news) will preside at the evening service. The Orthodox Patriarch Bartholomew I of Constantinople will participate in the event to open the Pauline year.

Melancholicus must admit that his first reaction having seen the headline of this story was a most decided Yuck!, but having read the story itself he must aver that the headline is inappropriate, for “ecumenical vespers” conjures up cringe-making memories of those ghastly interreligious get-togethers of the previous pontificate, in which the Vicar of Christ used to rub shoulders with pro-abort Lutheran bishoppesses and pro-homosexual liberal Anglicans in watered-down interfaith ‘liturgies’ the contents of which were specially crafted so as not to offend the sensibilities of whatever persons of all faiths or none that might be in attendance.

Thank God the basilica of St. Paul is to be spared such nonsense, since it appears that this will actually be a celebration of the office of Vespers (doubtless in Latin, perhaps with bits in liturgical Greek owing to the presence of the Orthodox patriarch) but without the Lutheran pro-aborts and the liberal Anglicans (who will all be at Lambeth instead, won’t they?), and furthermore without the bongo-drums, feathered head-dresses and sari-wearing Hindoos beloved of the former papal MC.

The Sacred Heart of Jesus

Today, Friday after the Second Sunday after Pentecost, is the feast of the Sacred Heart, and Melancholicus is abashed to admit that he forgot completely about it, until he was reminded of it on (of all places) an Anglican blog (although these good fellows look pretty Romish in their persuasions).

THE INTROIT

THE thoughts of His Heart are from generation to generation: To deliver their souls from death, and feed them in famine. Ps. Rejoice in the Lord, O ye just: praise becometh the upright.

THE COLLECT

O GOD, Who in the Heart of Thy Son, wounded by our sins, dost mercifully bestow on us infinite treasures of love: grant, we beseech Thee, that whilst we render It the devout homage of our affection, we may also fulfil our duty of worthy satisfaction. Through the same Our Lord.

Melancholicus has a strong devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and so is all the more abashed to have forgotten this holy feast. On this day it is customary for devout souls to make an act of reparation to the Sacred Heart in atonement for all their sins, negligences and offences, and for those of the whole world. It is praiseworthy that this act be accompanied by confession of sins, hearing of holy Mass, and reception of holy communion.

An Act of Reparation to the Sacred Heart (Iesu dulcissime)

Most sweet Jesus, whose overflowing charity for men is requited by so much forgetfulness, negligence and contempt, behold us prostrate before Thee, eager to repair by a special act of homage the cruel indifference and injuries to which Thy loving Heart is everywhere subject.

Mindful, alas! that we ourselves have had a share in such great indignities, which we now deplore from the depths of our hearts, we humbly ask Thy pardon and declare our readiness to atone by voluntary expiation, not only for our own personal offenses, but also for the sins of those, who, straying far from the path of salvation, refuse in their obstinate infidelity to follow Thee, their Shepherd and Leader, or, renouncing the promises of their baptism, have cast off the sweet yoke of Thy law.

We are now resolved to expiate each and every deplorable outrage committed against Thee; we are now determined to make amends for the manifold offenses against Christian modesty in unbecoming dress and behavior, for all the foul seductions laid to ensnare the feet of the innocent, for the frequent violations of Sundays and holydays, and the shocking blasphemies uttered against Thee and Thy Saints. We wish also to make amends for the insults to which Thy Vicar on earth and Thy priests are subjected, for the profanation, by conscious neglect or terrible acts of sacrilege, of the very Sacrament of Thy Divine Love; and lastly for the public crimes of nations who resist the rights and teaching authority of the Church which Thou hast founded.

Would that we were able to wash away such abominations with our blood. We now offer, in reparation for these violations of Thy divine honor, the satisfaction Thou once made to Thy Eternal Father on the Cross and which Thou continuest to renew daily on our Altars; we offer it in union with the acts of atonement of Thy Virgin Mother and all the Saints and of the pious faithful on earth; and we sincerely promise to make recompense, as far as we can with the help of Thy grace, for all neglect of Thy great love and for the sins we and others have committed in the past. Henceforth, we will live a life of unswerving faith, of purity of conduct, of perfect observance of the precepts of the Gospel and especially that of charity. We promise to the best of our power to prevent others from offending Thee and to bring as many as possible to follow Thee.

O loving Jesus, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mother, our model in reparation, deign to receive the voluntary offering we make of this act of expiation; and by the crowning gift of perseverance keep us faithful unto death in our duty and the allegiance we owe to Thee, so that we may all one day come to that happy home, where with the Father and the Holy Spirit Thou livest and reignest, God, forever and ever. Amen.

Amen indeed! They don’t come more Catholic than that now, do they? This act of reparation is also indulgenced, being listed in the new Enchiridion Indulgentiarum of Pope Paul VI. Publicly making this act on the feast of the Sacred Heart merits a plenary indulgence (subject to the usual conditions, of course). On other days, or in private recitation, the indulgence is partial.

Finally, before we close, it would be an impiety to discourse upon the Sacred Heart of Jesus without at least an honourable mention of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, the apostle of devotion thereto.

If, gentle reader, you are a priest...

... and you have an interest in learning to celebrate the holy sacrifice of the Mass according to the traditional rite, you need to order this without delay!

The DVD provides a thorough explanation and demonstration of the traditional Latin Mass (the “extraordinary form”, as they now call it), with an introduction by the cardinal prefect of the Pontifical Commission Ecclesia Dei and a spiritual commentary on the Mass by Fr. Calvin Goodwin FSSP.

Here is a trailer for the DVD, which features Fr. Gregory Pendergraft FSSP as the celebrant and Fr. Joseph Lee FSSP as the server. The trailer is narrated by deacon Matthew Goddard, of whom Melancholicus is a former classmate.



Simply beautiful, and what a nostalgia trip for your humble host!

The Ascension of the Lord

THE INTROIT

O men of Galilee, why gaze ye in astonishment at the sky? Alleluia. Just as ye have seen him ascend into heaven, so, in like manner, shall he return, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Ps. All nations, clap your hands; shout unto God with a voice of joy.

THE COLLECT

Grant, we beseech Thee, Almighty God, that we, who believe Thine Only Begotten Son our Redeemer, to have ascended on this day into heaven, may ourselves also dwell in mind amongst heavenly things. Through the same Our Lord.

In the words of the Apostles’ Creed, He ascended into heaven, And sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty.

Meditating on the mystery of our Lord’s Ascension reminds Melancholicus of a little paperback he once bought in a second-hand bookshop when he was in the first flush of his reversion to the Christian religion in 1997. This book was called A New Look at the Apostles’ Creed, and was edited by one Gerhard Rein. It was a translation of a work published originally in German, and featured contributions by such allegedly great theologians as Hans Conzelmann, Jurgen Moltmann, Gunther Bornkamm, Gerhard Ebeling and Karl Rahner. At the time, Melancholicus was young and very green, knew almost nothing of his catechism, was aware of this grave deficiency and was consequently reading everything that he could lay hands on pertaining to the Christian religion. He had as yet no idea of the controversies convulsing the Church as a result of modernism, rationalism and the fallout from Vatican II but, as the reader may have guessed, he was soon to find out.

This book first appeared in — yes, you’ve guessed it — the 1960s. Its very title is sufficient to alert the discerning reader to the kinds of heresies he may expect to find between its covers. Now while the youthful Melancholicus had no philosophical training and did not know anything about heresy, rationalism, naturalism etc., he at least had a brain and was able to spot principles and conclusions which were incompatible with the mysteries of faith. For in returning to the religion of his boyhood, Melancholicus was not looking for some pious myth or metaphor for mere intellectual consideration. No, he was seeking God, and he believed that God is transcendent and omnipotent, existing independently of the created order and, most importantly, existing independently of the mind of man. He also believed that the Lord Jesus is the Son of God, the second person of the Most Holy Trinity, and that consequently there is nothing inherently incredible about such things as the Lord’s Resurrection and Ascension, or His real presence in the eucharist.

Hence, in reading the discourse of these erudite theological giants on the doctrines enshrined in the Apostles’ Creed, he was first of all struck by how boring their writing was. He was also struck by the fact that these learned gentlemen seemed actually to be embarrassed by the supernatural content of religion, and that they sought to explain it away so as not to ‘offend’ the mentality of the great twentieth-century man who had at long last finally come of age, shaking off the shackles of obscurantism and superstition. Melancholicus was perplexed (and, if the truth be told, mildly outraged) by this attitude, but most of all he was amused at the spectacle of these purportedly great theologians fretting over the mysteries of faith and twisting themselves into knots in order not to have to affirm as supernatural any article of the Apostles’ Creed.

Was the earnest and simple faith of the young Melancholicus shaken in any way by this discovery? Not a bit of it. On the contrary, he quickly concluded that these theological giants were in reality theological pygmies, that their alleged scholarship and intellectual prowess was profoundly overrated, that their theories violated Christian doctrine and were not substantiated by anything more than their own prejudices and presuppositions, that as a consequence nothing they had to say was ever worth listening to, and not least that their writings were deeply, deeply boring — and so he laid the book aside and has never since returned to it except last year to consign it to a bag of paper and cardboard waste destined for recycling.

The problem with rationalising the mysteries of faith is, however, so glaring and so obvious that it doesn’t require specialised theological training or a turgid German brain to recognize it for what it is. It is so clear a child can spot it, much like the little boy who pointed out, correctly, that the Emperor had no clothes. Did these supposedly profound thinkers really believe — in their heart of hearts and brain of brains — that emptying the Christian religion of its credal content would make it either ‘relevant’ or ‘appealing’ to the thoroughly secularised modern mentality, instead of having precisely the opposite effect? Or does their approach not betray a certain obtusity, even stupidity, on their part? Were these learned gentlemen so intellectually advanced that they had no idea how the rest of us common folk think?

These great theologians are — or I should say were, since they’re nearly all dead; now they know whether there be a God or no — clearly upset that the Christian religion contains dogmas, for they would like it to teach only ethics. It is a fact, however, that the ethics of the Christian religion proceed from its dogmas as the consequence from the principle. These learned and scholarly heavyweights have failed to grasp this simple truth, but millions of ordinary people who were once Christians have understood it all too well. As a result, they are no longer Christians. Our erudite theological superiors are always banging on about the importance of “human experience”, whatever that means. Well, have they learned any lessons at all from the experience of the last forty years?

Take the dogmatic and credal content out of Christianity, and one is left with a hollow shell, a kind of pious agnosticism or Christian buddhism. But Christianity is not buddhism, nor was it ever meant to be, so the miserable leavings after the great theologians have done their work can satisfy no one, neither the Christian nor the buddhist, for the rationalised ‘religion’ invented by the scholars is neither one thing nor the other. As a result, no one is interested in this castle in the clouds at all, except maybe for the handful of towering intellectuals whose brainchild it is. But, like the seed in our Lord’s parable, having no roots it withers away.

The baffled incredulity of Anton Vogtle in his chapter on the Lord’s Ascension, in which he earnestly tries to convince his readers that the Ascension cannot be believed by ‘modern man’, deserves no more than our contempt, and its author deserves no more than to be utterly forgotten.

Ad orientem: the single most important reform

Melancholicus shares the view of Phil Lawler that turning the priest around again so that he celebrates Mass facing the direction he ought to be facing is the single most important change that might be made to the lex orandi of the Novus Ordo Missae.

There are a great many changes that Melancholicus would like to see made to his local parish Mass: the banishment of guitars, tambourines and other unsuitable musical instruments; the suppression of all those woefully inappropriate folksy “hymns”; the expulsion of musicians of any stripe from the sanctuary, and their relegation to the choir loft (which is where they should be in the first place); the abandonment of the damnable practice of using ‘girl altar boys’ as servers; the incineration of those shapeless off-white smocks that altar boys servers have been compelled to wear in place of soutane and surplice; an end to the practice of placing BOTH candles on the SAME side of the altar, as well as to reading the introductory rites of the Mass from the all-important chair instead of from the altar; the proscription of the dreadful 1970s ICEL translation of the Mass and its replacement with a language fitting for divine worship, preferably Latin but at the very least a solemn, hieratic English that elevates the minds of its hearers to the splendour of divine things; the suppression of the very banal offertory prayers in the Novus Ordo Missae and their replacement with texts that clearly express the mind of the Church during the offertory; the excision from the Missal of eucharistic prayer II; the scrapping of that silly rubric which instructs the priest to recite the Canon of the Mass in a clear and audible tone for the benefit of a human audience; the suppression of the ‘memorial acclamation’ after the consecration; the replacement of the current practice of having three readings (Old Testament + New Testament + Gospel) with two readings instead (Old Testament OR New Testament + Gospel), on top of which the so-called ‘responsorial psalm’ needs to be deleted from the liturgy as a matter of urgency; the revival of such laudable customs as knocking, bowing and genuflecting where these used to be done; the abolition of communion in the hand, as well as of the wretched extraordinary ministers; the revival of the ancient season of Septuagesima, or pre-Lent (this is topical, since this coming Sunday is in fact Septuagesima Sunday, but the vestments worn at Melancholicus’ local parish Mass will be green instead of violet, which will irritate him no end)...

Did I miss anything?

But out of all these changes, if I had to pick just one, it would be this: turn the priest around, so that he is facing the altar/tabernacle/east/almighty God again, instead of playing to the congregation. In my view, permitting Mass to be celebrated facing the people was the single most damaging liturgical innovation inflicted on the Church after the council. I can see it all the time, wherever the new rite is celebrated. Be he never so zealous for orthodoxy and liturgical correctness, if the celebrant is facing the people he will finish, despite his best intentions, by pitching the Mass to his audience instead of praying to almighty God. Many priests, brainwashed by the liturgical aberrations now fossilized within the new rite, consider the congregation to the be the most important ingredient in the affair, even to the extent of not bothering to celebrate Mass at all if there is no congregation present. Such a mentality could not have arisen if the practice of celebrating ad orientem had been maintained.

The feast of St. Thomas

Today, December 21st, is the feast of the Apostle Thomas, also known as “Doubting Thomas” because he refused to believe that the Lord Jesus had risen from the dead. He had not been present during the Lord’s first post-Resurrection appearance to his disciples. When he subsequently encountered the risen Jesus, having examined the wounds in the Lord’s hands and side, he made his profession of faith, “My Lord and my God”.

THE COLLECT

GIVE us, O Lord, we beseech Thee, a share in the glory of today’s festival of Thy blessed Apostle Thomas: and grant that we may be uplifted by his patronage and drawn with fitting devotion to equal him in faith. Through Our Lord.

The so-called Gospel of Thomas has nothing to do with St. Thomas the Apostle, having been written in the second century by an anonymous author, and is an apocryphal work of sayings attributed to the Lord Jesus. Much of its content is clearly lifted or adapted from the canonical gospels, but it also shows leanings toward gnosticism.

A memoir of Gaudete Sunday

Melancholicus went to hear Mass at his local parish last Sunday morning for the first time in yonks, since he wishes in the coming year to ingratiate himself with the local clergy with a view towards eventually setting up in the parish a Mass in what many people are now calling “the extraordinary form”, but which Melancholicus will persist in calling the Traditional Mass.

Last Sunday was the third Sunday of Advent — or Gaudete Sunday, as it is often known. This Sunday is one of only two days in the year in which the celebrant may wear rose vestments in place of the usual violet. Most regular attendees of the Novus Ordo Missae will probably never have seen rose vestments in use, as they seem to have fallen into complete desuetude since the liturgical changes of forty years ago, much like black vestments, which one almost never sees at contemporary funerals.

If one looks at the Advent wreath currently adorning the sanctuaries of Catholic churches, one will notice four coloured candles arranged in a circle around a white candle. Three of these coloured candles are violet, and one is of a rosy pink hue. The candles reflect the liturgical colour of the day on which they are first lit, and the rose/pink candle is lit on Gaudete Sunday. If he has them to hand, a priest celebrating Mass on this Sunday may wear vestments that match the colour of the candle.

Melancholicus’ local parish lacks a rose set, but he was interested to see that rather than resorting to violet, the celebrating priest (the PP, no less) turned himself out in the closest thing to rose that he had available, namely the red set. This is not, strictly speaking, liturgically permissable, but Melancholicus is inclined to give Father full marks for effort. Incidentally, red vestments were also worn in the parish on Gaudete Sunday in 2006, and that by a different priest. Obviously the instinct towards the return of rose is there, even if the clergy err by resorting to red because they can’t get the proper liturgical colour.

Since his days as a seminarist, Melancholicus has a few sets of vestments in different liturgical colours, but no rose set. He would like to be able to present a rose set to the parish, because he knows they would be used. Vestments of such a colour are difficult to come by, but if anyone reading this knows of a spare set knocking about somewhere... Melancholicus would be grateful.

As would the parish.

In Conceptione Immaculata Beatae Mariae Virginis

Today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Our Blessed Lady, a solemnity of the first class and a holy day of obligation throughout the universal Church.



THE ANTIPHONS

1. Thou art all fair, O Mary * and there is no spot of sin in thee.

2. Of thee, O Mary, thy Son was clothed in humanity * whose raiment was white as the light, whose face did shine as the sun.

3. Thou art the exaltation of Jerusalem, thou art the great glory of Israel, thou art the great rejoicing of our nation.

4. Blessed art thou of the Most High God * above all the women upon the earth.

5. Draw us, O maiden undefiled; we will run after thee * because of the savour of thy good ointments.

THE INTROIT

I WILL rejoice greatly in the Lord, and my soul shall be joyful in my God: for He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, and with the robe of justice He hath covered me, as a bride adorned with her jewels. Ps. I will extol Thee, O Lord, for Thou hast upheld me: and hast not made mine enemies to rejoice over me.

THE COLLECT

O GOD, Who, by the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, didst prepare for Thy Son a worthy habitation, we beseech Thee, that as Thou didst preserve her from every stain by the foreseen death of this Thy Son, so Thou wouldst grant that we also being cleansed from guilt by her intercession, may come to Thee. Through the same our Lord.

"I know of no bishop worthy of the name, except Ambrose"

...such at least was the opinion of Theodoret, and Melancholicus would not disagree.

Today, December 7th, is the feast of St. Ambrose, c. 340-397, bishop of Milan and Doctor of the Church. He is most famous for his correction of the emperor Theodosius, who in the year 390 had massacred 7,000 of the citizens of Thessalonica in retaliation for an uprising. After this bloody deed had been carried out, Ambrose would not permit Theodosius even to enter his church, let alone attend the celebration of the liturgy or receive holy communion. By comparison, today’s bishops are afraid to turn away from the altars public figures who pursue lifestyles of manifest grave sin, or who publicly uphold positions at variance with the teachings of the Church. To stand up to a fourth-century Roman emperor was a far more courageous act than to resist the petty politicians of today with their media backers. Theodosius even had the good grace to perform eight months of penance in atonement for his sin; the temporal powers of our time cannot even acknowledge that they have sinned, never mind be willing to undertake penance.

Ambrose also had the distinction of baptizing into the Catholic faith another great Doctor of the Church of late antiquity: St. Augustine of Hippo.

In the pre-1960 Roman calendar, it was also the vigil of the Immaculate Conception, one of the great Marian feasts, which occurs tomorrow, December 8th. The feast of St. Ambrose terminates with the office of none, and this evening’s vespers will be first vespers of the Immaculate Conception.

The feast of St. Andrew

Andrew son of Jonah, apostle and martyr, and brother of Simon Peter, was among the first of the twelve apostles to be called by the Lord Jesus at the beginning of His public ministry. Today is his feast, and the teaching term is finally over, Deo gratias. Melancholicus is quite exhausted, although not quite as much as his brother Conor who, by some miraculous process unknown to him, manages to juggle full-time studies in History and Classical Civilisation with a full-time job in telecommunications.

THE INTROIT

Thy friends, O God, are made exceedingly honourable; their principality is exceedingly strengthened. Ps. Lord, thou hast proved me and known me: Thou hast known my sitting down and my rising up.


THE COLLECT

WE humbly entreat Thy majesty, O Lord: that as the blessed Apostle Andrew was once a teacher and ruler of Thy Church: so he may be a constant advocate for us before Thee. Through our Lord.

The Apostle Andrew was martyred in the year A.D. 60 in Achaia (in modern Greece) under Aegeas, the Roman governor of the province. He was crucified on the X-shaped ‘decussate’ cross, which is now indelibly associated with St. Andrew. What marvellous patience and peace, not to mention union with God, the blessed apostle must have enjoyed in order to have submitted to such a painful and lingering death for love of Christ Jesus.

The end of the liturgical year is nigh. The Sunday closest to St. Andrew’s day is always the first Sunday of Advent, which this year falls on 2 December. The liturgical year now ending has not been kind to Melancholicus, all things considered, and he wishes to entreat the prayers of his readers that things may improve for him in this year to come.

May God reward you.

Solemn High Mass broadcast by EWTN

Another motu proprio related post. Melancholicus is delighted to have stumbled at long last upon this great treasure, namely the video of the traditional Latin High Mass broadcast by EWTN on 14th September 2007, the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, and the day on which Summorum Pontificum came into force.



The video may be accessed here. Melancholicus wishes to advise his readers that they must have Real Player installed on their systems if they wish to view.

This Mass was especially significant to Melancholicus, who as a seminarist was once a member of the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter, and who knows personally many of those who participated in this solemn liturgy: the celebrant Fr. Joseph Bisig FSSP, Rector of Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary; the deacon Rev. Mr. Justin Nolan FSSP, who was in the class ahead of Melancholicus; the subdeacon, Fr. Joseph Lee FSSP, who was ordained to the sacred priesthood the year after Melancholicus left the seminary; the preacher, Fr. Calvin Goodwin FSSP, to whom Melancholicus is so deeply indebted for his knowledge of Latin; and others who must honourably be mentioned — head sacristan Eddie Heffernan, from the class behind Melancholicus, and who will one day be a fine priest; also his friends Simon Harkins, from Scotland, Garrick Huang (Canada), deacon Roberto Cano (Nicaragua) and others who Melancholicus suspects were in attendance but could not see clearly owing to the exigencies of camera angles.

What a beautiful Mass. And didn’t the sisters do such a beautiful job of the chant? Mother Angelica was present also; it warmed Melancholicus’ heart to see her finally assisting at the immemorial liturgy in the EWTN chapel, which she has for so long craved.

Now after this nostalgia-tinged sojourn down memory lane, and having wiped his eyes, Melancholicus wishes to recommend the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter and Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary to the prayers of his readers.

Thank you, Most Holy Father, for your motu proprio Summorum Pontificum. Ad multos annos.

Archbishop Ranjith: bishops who defy Summorum Pontificum are instruments of the devil

A word to the wise from the good archbishop secretary of the Congregation for Divine Worship:

“The motu proprio Summorum Pontificum on the Latin Liturgy of July 7th 2007 is the fruit of a deep reflection by our Pope on the mission of the Church. It is not up to us, who wear ecclesiastical purple and red, to draw this into question, to be disobedient and make the motu proprio void by our own little, tittle rules. Not even if they were made by a bishops conference. Even bishops do not have this right. What the Holy Father says, has to be obeyed in the Church. If we do not follow this principle, we will allow ourselves to be used as instruments of the devil, and nobody else. This will lead to discord in the Church, and slows down her mission. We do not have the time to waste on this. Else we behave like Emperor Nero, fiddling on his violin while Rome was burning. The churches are emptying, there are no vocations, the seminaries are empty. Priests become older and older, and young priests are scarce.”

It is refreshing to hear a senior prelate speak so frankly on the abject state to which holy mother Church has been reduced, and of the foot-dragging by the conciliar establishment in their attempts to forestall all efforts to repair the damage sustained by our Lord’s mystical body on their watch. And what archbishop Ranjith says is true; the bishops are indeed fiddling while Rome burns. While the new conciliar religion holds sway, the churches continue to empty, as do the seminaries. The hour is getting late. And yet, the bishops will not surcease from being part of the problem, never mind refusing to contribute to a solution.