The recent news that Cardinals Brandmüller, Burke, Caffarra, and Meisner have submitted a formal series of Dubia concerning the proper interpretation and implementation of Amoris Laetitia is causing a major stir in the traddy world and a minor shrug among the rest of the Catholic world. Nonetheless, this move has the potential to back a lot of powerful people into an uncomfortable corner, especially with the four cardinals going public and giving interviews.
Many people, myself included, have criticized clerics like Cdl. Burke for responding weakly or ambiguously to scandalous actions from within the Vatican. Laity who are willing to face the reality of Roman dissimulation often desperately need the solidarity of pastors who are willing to face and speak openly about these scandals. Otherwise, the average traddy layman is all too likely to “rad trad” all the way into sedevacantism or just into a perpetual state of anger. Sheep need good pastors, not hired hands who tell them that everything’s all right when it’s not.
The split between those who work on reform within the system and those who condemn the problems more or less from without is a cause of much vitriol. Abp. Lefebvre’s actions put him and his followers on the outside looking in, and his priests became more bold as a result. The expulsion of Bp. Williamson from the Society has pushed him outside the outsiders. The FSSP was heavily criticized by many traddy groups as being compromisers for refusing to operate without local episcopal approval. Indeed, this decision may have forced its priests to tone down their sermons, which, depending on your perspective, could be a good thing. Outsiders are accused also of prophetic pretensions, of claiming to be divine messengers when they may just be a bunch of cranky farts. Sometimes it is difficult to prove otherwise.
Recently I’ve been rewatching the old science fiction television series Babylon 5 (1993-98). The reasons for this indulgence are neither here nor there, but one aspect of the show’s plot is of some relevance. The command staff of the titular space station become more and more aggrieved at the actions of Earth’s rising totalitarian government, and finally decide to break away as an independent military force. After retaking Earth in a final showdown, the station’s captain is heavily criticized for going rogue, for refusing to work through proper channels from within, and for creating the seeds of a civil war in the wake of his actions. He is described as doing “the right thing in the wrong way,” and it’s not clear that he was indeed in the right.
Are the Society and similar groups doing the right thing in the wrong way? It is a complex movement of many parts and perhaps only a future generation can judge it with clarity. The four cardinals, though, are making the most of working within the system. One might say that their actions are more striking than melodramatic actions by outsiders, because they are refusing to break away unless they are pushed out. That four princes of the Church are making such a statement within the accepted channels, and after having first attempted to clarify matters privately, speaks a great deal to their resolve and restraint.
I have few predictions about how the publication of the Dubia will end. Ignoring the gauntlet they threw down in private has backfired quite badly for the pope and his entourage. Those with mere pretensions to humility cannot bear to be humiliated. Pray to the cardinals’ guardian angels. These four insiders may find themselves to be outsiders, soon.
"You do not make history. You can only hope to survive it." —Lizard Man
"Of the dogmas and proclamations that are guarded in the Church, we hold some from the teaching of the Scriptures, and others we have received in mystery as the teachings of the tradition of the Apostles. Both hold the same power with respect to true religion. No one would deny these point, at least no one who has even a little experience of ecclesiastical institutions. For if we attempt to reject non-scriptural customs as insignificant, we would, unaware, lose the very vital parts of the Gospel, and even more, we would establish the proclamation merely in name. For instance—I will mention the first and most common—who has learned though the Scriptures that those who hope in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ are marked with the sign of the cross? What sort of scriptural text teaches us to turn to the East for prayer? Which saint has left us a scriptural account of the words of epiclesis at the manifestation of the bread of the Eucharist and the cup of blessing? We are not satisfied with the Eucharistic words that the Apostle or the Gospel mentions, but we add other words before and after theirs, since we have received non-scriptural teaching that these words have great power in regard to the mystery. We bless the water of baptism and the oil of chrism in addition to the very one who is to be baptized. By what Scriptures? Is it not by the secret and mystical tradition? But why? What scriptural authority teaches the anointing itself of oil? Where does a man being immersed three times come from? How much of the baptismal ritual is for the renunciation of Satan and his angels, and what scriptural text does it come from? Does it not come from this secret and unspoken tradition, which our fathers guarded with a simple and unprying silence, since they were well taught that the solemnity of the mysteries is preserved by silence? Such matters must not be seen by the uninitiated, and how is it appropriate that this teaching be published abroad in writing?
"In the same way, the Apostles and Fathers ordained from the first the matters of the Church and guarded the solemnity of the mysteries in secrecy and silence, for what is made known for a public and casual hearing is no mystery at all. This is the reason for non-scriptural traditions, that knowledge of dogmas not be neglected or despised by the many because of familiarity. For doctrine is one thing, and proclamation is another." On the Holy Spirit (27.66)
Before the many changes visited upon the Church of Rome during the Second Vatican Council, the pontifical universities in the Eternal City conducted lectures and oral examinations in the mother tongue of the Latin rite as well as required papers to be written in Latin. For most national colleges, this presented little difficulty for students; most Eastern and Western Europeans were exposed to a variety of languages growing up and possessed the requisite skills to add another, even if difficultly, to their repertoire. Not so for American students, typically of Irish and Italian ethnic origin. After several generations of shaming and intentional integration, third generation Americans never spoke the languages of their grandparents; solidarity during the Second World War finally eviscerated any lingering divides between "WASP" Americans and their barely-white counterparts. Unable to speak either Italian or Latin competently, professors would read questions in Latin off a sheet of paper in front of them with the answers printed below, which the seminarian would politely read upside down back to the instructor.
This would be another quaint example of "Americanism" if the context were not so bleak. American bishops sent their most promising students to the Pontifical North American College—and supposedly still do—for instruction in all things Roman. It may not be the case anymore, but students then were almost explicitly told that they were the next generation of bishops, monsignori, and academics. In Phoenix from the Ashes, HJA Sire perceived that pre-Conciliar education produced numerous orthodox (Garrigou-Lagrange, Fortescue) and dissident (Lubac, Maritain, anyone with a German-ish name) thinkers, while post-Conciliar education has produced none of either. The Church has not managed to lay hands on anyone with a brain, Sire jeers, in six decades (or at least not anyone with a brain and the dare to compromise his security).
The de facto ban on original thought is no where more apparent than in the field of liturgy. The wake of the Liturgical Movement gave rise to many ripples of thought, some good, some bad. Authors across the spectrum visited original texts for the first time since the Tridentine Council and attempted to synthesize their influences to discern the true Roman tradition; if not for an out-of-control papacy the end result may not have been the Mass of Paul VI. Today where are the real liturgists? Even the bad ones? I have never been able to read Scott "Alcuin" Reid with interest. A few FSSP priests have put out generic books on the old Mass. The "liberals" have Anthony Ruff OSB, but he is more a cheerleader for the reform than a creative thinker. Where are the liturgists?
Thus far the only books concerning liturgy written after Vatican II that I wholeheartedly recommend are The Banished Heart and Worship as Revelation. Like the pre-Vatican II liturgical studies, both of these works are primarily surveys of history that draw conclusions rather than conclusions in search of scattered evidence. Perhaps the most interesting feature these books share is that neither was written by a priest or someone purporting to be a professional theologian. Geoffrey Hull is a layman and a linguist specializing in Portuguese, Celtic, and Indonesian dialects. Laurence Hemming is a deacon for a London parish and a philosophy professor specializing in crazy Germans. The perspectives of both men figure greatly in their insight in a way that a full-time cleric might find intimidating. Aidan Kavanagh wrote after "the Council," but belongs to an earlier generation.
Eastern Christendom finds itself similarly bereft of writers after Taft. Alexander Schmemann is interesting and worth reading as a speculative theologian, but he was not a liturgical historian and his ideas do not reflect the Eastern tradition as a whole, especially in calling the Church itself a Sacrament. In English-speaking Eastern Catholicism and Orthodoxy, liturgical research has stagnated into writing commentaries on Schmemann. One correspondent, an Orthodox seminarian knowledgeable in Greek, reduces this unoriginality to sloth; people are too lazy to learn other languages ("Learning Greek is a b****"). A general current of Lutheranism ran through the University of Paris' theology courses in the mid-20th century and modern protestants, looking for a friend in Orthodoxy against Romish ways, will postulate that the Orthodox believe in something akin to Luther's cosubstantiation. They believe no such thing, but the relevant manuals and dogmatic theological works exist only in Greek and no one thus far has bothered to translate it. Similarly, there is a genuine revival in liturgical writings in the Slavic Orthodox churches that no one has bothered and no one will bother translating. As Robert Taft himself said to students of St. Vladimir Seminary in 2009, if you are not learning Russian, you are not reading current liturgical study. His Traddiness enjoys Schmemann, but must all liturgy be footnotes on Schmemann?
Until Western Christianity once again employs the efforts of more than a handful of intelligent men, standards will continue to founder. For a proliferation of polyglots, let us pray to the Lord!
Today is the feast of the dedication of the Cathedral of Our Savior, commonly known as the Archbasilica of St. John Lateran, the cathedral of the diocese of Rome and hence the foremost Church in the world. The cathedral has probably been re-built half a dozen times due to fires, earthquakes, and the Avignon papacy, yet some of the original building remains, which traces its origins to the Emperor Constantine. I had re-published an old post showing some pictures I took of the Cathedral during my visit there a few years ago. I think this better than posting images available from the internet because the display the "flow" of the cathedral and lend themselves to an appreciation of the look and scale. At the end I have added a video of the consecration of the FSSP seminary chapel in Nebraska which, although done to the 1962 rite, is textually very close to how the Mass part of the rites would have been done at the Lateran during its several re-consecrations. Happy feast!—one of my favorite of the year.
The image of Christ dominates this great cathedral built in His name
The Archbasilica of Our Savior has also been known as St. John Lateran since Sergius III re-consecrated the building once, adding the patronage of the Evangelist and the Beloved Apostle; the primary patronal feast is the Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ. This church is great not so much for its size, grandeur, history, or architecture—although all are quite impressive, but because this church is the cathedral of Rome and, hence, the foremost church in the world. It is the Pope's cathedral, although people often mistake St. Peter's for this honor.
The throne of the Bishop of Rome
Christian worship existed at this location in the southeastern corner of Rome, near the walls of the old City, since the first century, when Ss. Peter and Paul themselves were present there. After Christianity was permitted to crawl out of the Roman woodwork Emperor Constantine began to build several major churches on behalf of the Christians. Contrary to popular opinion, Constantine did not give too much preference to Christianity over paganism during this period. He gave the Church and the Bishop of Rome considerable real estate, like the Lateran Palace, where the popes resided until the reign of Pius IX, but not in prime locations.
The Church of Our Savior eventually became the main seat of the Bishop of Rome due to its proximity to the Lateran Palace. Important stational days during Holy Week—particularly Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Holy Saturday—which are communal in nature take place here. The consecration of the Bishop of Rome, and his coronation as Pope, and special blessings took place at this cathedral, emphasizing the Pope's role as a bishop for the City. During one Maundy Thursday Pope St. Gregory the Great was performing the mandatum (re: foot-washing ceremony) and after washing twelve men's feet and thirteenth appeared. This man's luminous face was described as perfect by the Pope. The man immediately disappeared. St. Gregory concluded it was an angel, or perhaps even Our Lord Himself. This is why in the old Roman rite thirteen men's feet were washed in Maundy Thursday as opposed to the instinctive twelve.
The Cathedral of Our Savior was subjected to barbaric invasions by the Goths in the sixth century, by the Saracens in the ninth century, and earth quakes throughout. By the reign of Sergius III (r. 904-911) the Cathedral had fallen into such disarray it required a re-model, including a new roof. It was re-dedicated by Pope Sergius and given a consecration to Ss. John the Baptist and John the Evangelist, hence its vulgar name "St. John Lateran."
The Lateran Cathedral as seen from the square
In the first millennium the square in front of the Lateran Cathedral and Palace hosted the election of the Pope. After the death of the previous Pontiff the clergy would gather all Roman citizens, the cardinals (originally the priests and deacons of Rome) would elect nominees from among themselves, and the candidate with the greatest yell from the crowd would be the new Bishop of Rome. In the late first millennium violence often resulted and which faction could gain entrance to the Cathedral, consecrate its candidate, and enthrone him would have the Pope! During the middle ages the Archbasilica hosted five ecumenical councils, the Papal Court, and the public square of Rome. Pope Innocent III famously received St Francis of Assisi here, after first suggesting that the poor saint preach to the pigs in the public market—a suggestion which the saint immediately followed, and also saw the friar holding up the Cathedral, which was crumbling under the sins of the Church.
Pope Benedict XVI enthroned after election
As the Popes moved to Avignon, the Cathedral fell again into disarray and was partially destroyed due to a fire. It was re-modeled during the Renaissance and again during the 18th century, when the statues in the niches were added. Today the Popes still use this great Cathedral for Maundy Thursday, Ascension Thursday, Corpus Christi, pastoral visits, and enthronement after election.
I was blessed by God to be able to visit this awesome place a year and a half ago, whilst in Rome during Lent. My two friends and I, one Catholic and one then-searching, thought the Lateran to be an interesting one hour stop we could make on our way to the Colosseum. We spent five hours in the Lateran and two in the Colosseum.
The facade, a baroque addition, is impressive, but not as impressive as the one gracing St. Mary Major. I was not impressed with the Lateran until I stepped inside. What first struck me was the sheer scale of the place. I have been to St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City several times, a larger church, but less open and hence smaller in scale.
The imposing Cosmatesque floor
My feet were sore from walking the Eternal City in boating shoes, so I ended up dragging the pads of my feet without intending to do so. This had the most spectacular effect. One can feel the texture of the mosaic floor in this Cathedral. Every bump and tile has character to it. History seeps from the ground of this place and the Spirit of God encompasses it. The words of the introit are verily said of this house of God:
Terrible is this place and This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven; and it shall be called the court of God.—Genesis 28:17
We made our way through the various side chapels over the course of an hour or two, before coming to the Chapel of St. Francis of Assisi, shown below. The five piercings on the heart held by the angel simultaneously recall the stigmata of St. Francis and the devotion to the Five Wounds, popular during Francis's time.
The Blessed Sacrament Chapel is next to the Papal Altar. There is a grand tabernacle surrounded by four statues of Popes and crowned with an ethereal image of the patronal feast, the Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Interestingly the Popes are vested as deacons, indicating that they too are just servants at the altar of the High Priest, Christ. May his holiness, Francis, wear the pontifical dalmatic and find himself in the same self-effacing service as past pontiffs.
In the center of the Cathedral is the Papal Altar, topped by a canopy and reliquary which, although ornamented with busts of St. John the Baptist and John the Evangelist, contains the head of St. Paul. Imagine that almost every Pope from the fourth century has celebrated Mass in this place, surrounded by St. Paul and Our Lord Himself.
The Papal Altar
And the ciborium with the reliquary:
Across from the altar is the great apse of the Cathedral. A massive back wall is topped with gold mosaics containing icons of Our Lord, Our Lady, Ss. John the Baptist and John the Evangelist, and other Biblical figures. One must also recall the organic continuity of this cathedral. Icons of Ss. Francis and Dominic were not-so-deftly inserted at a later time! At the end of a long aisle, containing an organ, balconies for the cantors, and choir stalls for clergy in attendance, is the throne of the Supreme Pontiff:
Beyond the apse is a gift shop. Horrifically, the tomb of Pope Innocent III, the most powerful man of the Middle Ages, is a cross beam for the door frame! How passes the glory of the world!
Something striking about this place is the color in it. The nave is a bland white, as per Italian baroque style for public places, but the sanctuary and other locations from the early Christian era, Middle Ages, and Renaissance is thriving with life and color. Even niches between icons and mosaics were treated as opportunities to paint images, images which literally pop out into a third dimension:
The nave for contrast:
The layout is distinctly Roman, the floor is medieval, the ceiling Renaissance, the chapels Baroque, and place entirely Catholic.
The ceiling is a wonder
The Cathedral's altars, chapels, aisles, and niches are a testament to the on-going effort that is the Gospel of Christ, one held by sinners and saints, which must endure every trial and be maintained and expressed through every age. This aisle towards the entrance contained numerous chapels under renovation.
I will leave on a light note. One of my companions was quite taken with the statues of the twelve Apostles in the nave, which are gargantuan in this size given the scale of the Cathedral. Upon arriving at St. Matthew, my friend decided that since the former tax-collector no longer needed his gold, there was no excuse to let is sit unused.
Gimme!
Lastly, across from the Lateran Cathedral is the Scala Sancta, the Holy Stairs from Pilate's palace. Christ was tried atop these steps and descended them to take up His Cross for us. One may only ascend these steps on one's knees. More on them another time....
Mr. Ralfy is a Scottish gentleman of modest means who occupies himself with undertaking, speed racing, and whisky appreciation. His YouTube channel is a steady source of good information on spirits and common sense, and even his special episode on absinthe is entertaining and worth a watch. Most recently, he recorded an instructional video on the Seven Levels of Intoxication (embedded below), and how they can affect your social wellbeing.
No Catholic is Ralfy, but his green- and red-zones are probably more helpful in discerning the need for confession than the ever-elusive "point of hilarity" suggested by Thomistic moralists. It is good to drink often (Ps. 103); it is better to drink well and with temperance.
In an hour-long interview with a YouTuber, Eugene Michael Jones repeats much of his anti-Voris rant verbally. (For those interested, I reviewed that book at length here and here.) The strangest new thing he says in this video is that it's much better to be an off-camera writer than an on-camera opinionater, in terms of avoiding excesses of vainglory. See around the 35-minute mark, where Jones opines that writing more readily lends itself to reflection than talking to a camera. My experience of reading many blogs—not to mention Jones's essays—argues otherwise.
Papal Intentions
Sometimes I wonder at what point it becomes questionably moral to pursue a plenary indulgence. As we all know, such an indulgence requires praying for the pope's monthly intentions. P. Francis's most recent prayer intention is that all countries would be successfully bullied into accepting refugees. In a month when we are encouraged to pray for the dead and win indulgences for their repose, it is most unfortunate that the pope has tried to guilt Catholics everywhere into asking God to fulfill his questionable vision of world politics.
Tolkien's Love Story
May 2017 will see the publication of Dr. Tolkien's story of Beren and Lúthien as a standalone tale, much as his son did with The Children of Hurin. I think that many of his stories work better separated from their original Silmarillion framework than as cogs in a larger machine, and I expect this will be one such example. Maybe I'm just looking forward to the version of the story where Sauron is a giant evil cat.
Descent into Hell
Mel Gibson has officially confirmed plans for a sequel to The Passion of the Christ, which, for all its flaws, remains my favorite religious movie. He hints at the inclusion of Jesus's descent into the Limbo of the Fathers as a kind of dramatic backdrop to what could otherwise be an action-light story. One hopes that Gibson will not present a Balthasarized version of the Descensus Christi ad Inferos, but only time will tell. I am also expecting good things from his new film Hacksaw Ridge.
The Ghost of Counter-Reformation Past
Speaking of the legacy of Hans Urs von Balthasar, a blogger at Bp. Barron's Word on Fire website has written a rather scathing criticism of the celebration of Reformation Day. There's no mention of the pope's imprudent gestures in this regard, but it's good that even clericalist-leaning apologists are willing to break ranks with the usual back-slapping now and then.
I have been watching parts of the 2-hour long video of P. Francis's visit to the far-left Lutherans in Sweden. It's difficult to explain why. Maybe I feel like doing something penitential on All Soul's Day. This bit at the very beginning caught my attention, where the pope is protected from the touch of the dirty masses by his bodyguard and the Humblemobile:
The "ecumenical event" as a whole is about as dull and self-congratulatory as one would expect. The crowd is very pleased to see the bishop of Rome in their midst, praying with their leaders and acting like one of them. Much of the event is taken up by marching out minorities and women from third-world countries to beg for money and "gender justice," with terrifying musical interludes in between.
The Lutheran leaders blame the Holy Spirit for this meeting while talking at excruciating length about their feelings. I'm surprised they don't blame Him for climate change because of the neo-pentecostal flames.
They seem to have paid top dollar for Swedish opera singer Malena Ernman, who is a pleasure to listen to as long as you don't have to watch the accompanying multimedia presentation. (And probably also as long as you don't understand Swedish.)
P. Francis's speech has little content, but goes on forever. It's like listening to the homily at a suburban American Mass. The speech by the Swedish Prime Minister about optimism creating a "momentum for peace" is more interesting than the pope's.
Selfie stick?
Goodness knows I would have started playing on my phone had I been forced to attend.
There's nearly zero theological content on either the Lutheran or Catholic sides of these mutual monologues, and thus nothing for theologians to complain about aside from the lack of content and the suggestion of indifferentism.
You can also watch the raw footage of the pope arriving and leaving on the tarmac, if you are so inclined. All courtesy of the Vatican's YouTube channel.
Michael Matt has an analysis of the meeting, as well as some extra footage of Francis signing the Declaration of Togetherness. Sadly, he veers off into American politics very quickly, but otherwise it is worth watching.
Until the next ecumenical gathering... To the Humblemobile, Cardinal Koch!
