Corpus Christi

Here in Rome we get to celebrate Corpus Christi twice - in the Vatican it is celebrated today, whilst in the Italian State the feast is deferred until next Sunday.
The liturgical highlight is the annual Corpus Christi Mass in the presence of the Holy Father at S.Giovanni in Laterano, followed by procession with the Blessed Sacrament to S.Maria Maggiore, where the evening is concluded with the Pope giving Benediction and the singing of the Salve Regina.
The procession consists of hundreds of clergy, seminarians, religious, members of confraternities and thousands of lay faithful. On the Vatican website, one gets an idea of the sheer scale of the occasion by looking at previous years' celebrations:

2003
2002
2001

In Venezuela, however, they take a different approach - the Corriere della Sera informs us that the
symbolism here is the defeat of the evil devils by the Blessed Sacrament.

Numbers Stations...

A few years ago, a friend of mine had an interest in shortwave radios and as well as the guilty pleasure of eavesdropping on the local law-enforcement agencies, I was also much amused to discover the existance of so-called 'number stations'. On these stations one could listen to mechanical-sounding voices reciting numbers interminably. My friend explained that these were secret coded transmissions to spies, though I took this explanation with a grain of salt.
Needless to say, activities of this sort attract attention on the internet and this page by Simon Mason gives a good introduction.
Also, if you scroll down to the bottom of this page you'll see that there are recordings of various number stations for you to listen to.
Amongst my favorites are:
The Lincolnshire Poacher, seemingly operated by the British Royal Air Force. It is so-called after the cheery ditty used as a call-sign
The Stasi Gong Station
Sweedish Rhapsody, a Polish broadcast with a music-box intro
Papa November, a West German broadcast
This page of miscellananeous stations, including a Spanish broadcast using 'Don't Cry for me Argentina' as a call sign.

On a slightly related note, it used to be the practice of the Secretariat of State to broadcast messages to its Nunciatures on the Vatican Radio frequencies.

Pretenders and the Princes in the Tower

Not having anything particularly original to say, I have chosen to take my inspiration from Matt of the Holy Whapping's post on Louis XVII of France and the various pretenders who attempted to assume his identity.
The death of France's boy-king brings to mind the mysterious vanishing of Edward V of England and his brother Richard Duke of York. Following the death of their father Edward IV in 1483, control of the kingdom passed to the Protector Richard Duke of Gloucester. They were accomodated in the Tower of London whilst preparations were made for the coronation of of the 12 year-old monarch when questions arose as to the legitimacy of the children. Richard of Gloucester then arranged for himself to be crowned Richard III of England and the 'Princes in the Tower'. A couple of years later, Richard III was toppled from his throne and replaced by Henry VII, a Tudor with a very shaky claim to the kingdom. Thanks to Shakespeare's Richard III and St. Thomas More's history, the most commonly accepted version of events puts the blame for the murder squarely on the 'deformed' shoulders of Richard III, but the evidence is ambiguous. Various other theories have been proposed, such as the princes dying of natural causes, partisans of Richard III killing the princes without his knowledge or (very plausibly given what we know of the Tudors) their being murdered by Henry VII who say them as a threat to his throne and found blaming Richard very convenient for the purposes of propaganda. There are any number of websites out there dealing with the Princes, but of particular interest are those written by Ricardians who try to rehabilitate the last king of the house of York. (Particularly fun, if you're ever in York, is the dramatic apology for Richard put forward by local actor Michael S. Bennett)

What is without a doubt, however, is that well into the reign of Henry VII (1485-1509) there remained a huge doubt regarding the fate of the princes (there were tales of them living in Europe) and two pretenders to the English crown attempted to urge their claim on the basis of being one of the princes. Both Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck both claimed to be Richard, Duke of York, younger brother to Edward V. There are several other similarities in their escapades - both emerged from obscurity and common birth, both suceeded in raising support in Ireland and both lead abortive rebellions against Henry VII.
Simnel was schooled by an Oxford priest in courtly manners, and after a period of claiming to be Richard, Duke of York, changed his story and as Edward, Earl of Warwick (nephew to Edward IV, first cousin of the princes in the tower and potential claimant to the throne) began his campaign for the English throne in Dublin. There, in 1487, at the age of 10, he was crowned Edward VI of England. The Irish, having Yorkist sympathies and always keen to cause trouble for an English king, backed Simnel militarily and also managed to secure some support from Europe, including a force of Flemish soldiers. Henry VII, unbeknownst to his enemies, actually had the real Edward of Warwick in prison and paraded him through the steets of London to demonstate Simnel's imposture. The Irish and Flemish force were quickly defeated after landing in England. Seeing that Simnel was merely the tool of older conspirators, Henry VII gave him a position in the royal kitchens, and he rose to become Royal Falconer before his death at the age of about 57.
Perkin Warbeck came from Flanders, and it seems that whilst in service to a merchant visiting Ireland something about his bearing attracted attention. Again, various Irish nobles of Norman descent, took him in hand. He moved in various court circles and by 1492 (aged about 18) he was summoned to Flanders to meet the sister of Edward IV (and thus aunt to the Princes) who gave him her support. Severa European monarchs also siezed the opportunity to discomfort Henry VII. Again, Warbeck seemed to have multiple personalities, being variously described as a bastard son of Richard III or a cousin of the princes, before it was finally decided that he was Richard, Duke of York. In 1495, aged about 21, he campaigned militarily in England and Ireland with little success, and so fled to Scotland. There, James IV arranged a marriage for him and he had some small military sucess in the North of England. Finally, in 1497, with a small force, he beagn his last campaign by landing at Lands End at the south-western tip of England. Unsurprisingly, the disgruntled Cornish folk who disagreed with Henry VII's taxation policy joined in the rebellion and he made progress through Cornwall and Devon until he reached the walled city of Exeter which was strongly Tudor. Unable to progress any further, he fled and eventually gave himself up. (In reward for their loyalty, the City Council of Exeter were granted a Cap of Maintenance and Ceremonial Sword by the grateful Henry VII. A number of years later, Exeter would become the stumbling block for the Cornishmen who formed the Catholic Prayerbook Rebellion.) Warbeck was imprisoned in the tower and in 1499 was dragged through the streets of London and hanged for attempting escape.

Gibson Priest at Louis XVII Funeral?

Looking at the picture of yesterday's funeral, I note the presence of a distinguished looking priest in surplice and white stole to the left of the crown.

Could someone better-informed than myself confirm whether this might be the celebrated Fr Charles-Roux (.pdf document), who also happens to be a vice-president of the Royal Stuart Society. (It's a shame Matt of the Holy Whapping never stumbled upon him in Rome...)

Funeral for Royal Heart...

A report on the interment of Louis XVII's heart.

Satanism in Italy...

As this disturbing article in the English pages of Corriere della Sera illustrates, Satanism is quite a problem in certain parts of Italy. Accounts of Satanic rituals and murders like the ones described in the article are much more common in Italian newspapers than in the English-speaking world. The books of Fr Gabriele Amorth also testify to the fact that there's something decidedly evil at work in ceratin parts of Italy.
The article above mentions the North of Italy as being home to these cults - this agrees with what I have heard on an anecdotal level. I am also aware of certain places in the Castelli Romani with a bad reputation and note that in the churches of some Italian dioceses there are prominent notices warning of excommunication for those who steal the Blessed Sacrament and the Sacrament itself is reserved in a side-chapel protected by heavy-duty wrought-iron gates.

Latin with Fr. Foster

Fr Gary Coulter presents this page dedicated to Fr Reggie Foster OCD, one of the Church's top Latinists.

Also, scroll down through the Vatican Radio Audio Archive to hear an episode of his 'Latin Lover' radio program.

Also worth a listen are Fr Philip Whitmore's program on hymns and Gill Bevilacqua's Sunday Gospel reflection.

Norwegian, erm, Lithuanian Wood?

Matt, over at the Shrine of the Holy Whapping, 'blogs about the Wooden Churches of Lituania. Not to be outdone, I tried to find a picture of Rearcross Church, a chapel constructed from corrugated iron which I stumbled upon in rural Ireland some years ago. I couldn't find a picture, but did discover that it contains stained glass representations of SS. William and Thomas Aquinas, presumably after the names of the donors. I also seem to remember that the church was formerly a protestant chapel in a mining part of Wales, and was purchased by this Irish parish when the coal industry in that part of Wales went into decline and the chapel no longer had a congregation.
It claims to be unique, but it seems that there is a Swiss Gothic corrugated iron church, which was/is used by a Church of Ireland (Anglican) parish in Co. Monaghan.
The story of how Rearcross got its chapel reminds me of another story about the opportunistic capabilities of the Irish Clergy in matters of money - have a look at the distinctive copper dome of Our Lady Refuge of Sinners, one of Dublin's finest churches. The dome was originally constructed in Scotland for a Russian Orthodox Church, but the Bolshevik Revolution made that project impossible. Therefore, when rebuilding the church after the fire, the canny priests from Dublin were able to acquire this unusual feature for a knockdown price.

Trinity Sunday...

It has been said that the Church in her wisdom instituted Trinity Sunday so that at least once a year there's some theology in the homily...

Anyway, if you don't hear the following at Mass today, you might want to see about getting a new choir director!

Firmly I believe and truly
God is Three, and God is One;
And I next acknowledge duly
Manhood taken by the Son.

And I trust and hope most fully
In that Manhood crucified;
And each thought and deed unruly
Do to death, as He has died.

Simply to His grace and wholly
Light and life and strength belong,
And I love supremely, solely,
Him the holy, Him the strong.

And I hold in veneration,
For the love of Him alone,
Holy Church as His creation,
And her teachings are His own.

And I take with joy whatever
Now besets me, pain or fear,
And with a strong will I sever
All the ties which bind me here.

Adoration aye be given,
With and through the angelic host,
To the God of earth and heaven,
Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
- John Henry Newman (From The Dream of Gerontius)

Incidentally, I'd also urge you never to pass up on a performance of Elgar's oratorio 'The Dream of Gerontius' - his masterful arrangement of Newman's poem is probably the most beautiful meditation on the church's teaching on what awaits us at the end of this mortal life. The 'Dream' was almost certainly the last musical performance attended by Pius XII (of happy memory) before he died. Sir John Barbirolli conducted a performance at Castel Gandolfo a few days before the Pontiff's death. His Holiness is said to have described it as a 'sublime masterpiece'.

Unborn Child Kidnapped

Disturbing news from Columbia where an unborn child was literally stolen from his mother's womb. Thankfully, news reports seem to indicate that mother and child are now safe.

Curious Goings-on at the Brompton Oratory

At some stage over the summer I hope to be in London, and whilst there I will undoubtedly call on the beautiful Brompton Oratory, a church notable for its history and liturgy. Whilst browsing through Robin Cross's book 'Curious London' I discovered that it had another claim to fame:

There could be few more respectable locations than Brompton Oratory in Knightsbridge, but this splendid Catholic Church on the Brompton Road was the site chosen by the KGB as one of their safest dead letter boxes in London. It was here that documents or microfilm were left by one agent to be picked up by another.

Before we get carried away by the idea of the good fathers of the Oratory storing secret plans under their birettas, I'd better explain that the 'dead letter box' was in fact a little space behind a pillar next to a copy of the Pietà, just inside the door of the church. According to Cross, this information was almost immediately intercepted by British Intelligence in 1985. (What, an oxymoron?)
Near to the Oratory, stands the CoE church of Holy Trinity, Brompton. Apparently, a statue of St. Francis of Assisi in the church grounds was used to indicate another KGB dead letter box.

Dear Jesus and Mary...

An interesting note courtesy of Found Magazine. One wonders what reply it'll receive.

More on the Surplice Riots...

Thanks to Quenta Nârwenion who brought to my attention the fact that Ven. Newman commented (I almost wrote blogged! Would Newman have blogged?) on the Surplice Riots in his Difficulties of Anglicans.

When clergymen of Latitudinarian theology were promoted to dignities, did the faithful of the diocese, or of the episcopal city, rise in insurrection? Did parishioners blockade a church's doors to keep out a new incumbent, who refused to read the Athanasian Creed? Did vestries feel an instinctive reverence for the altar-table, as soon as that reverence was preached? Did the organs of public opinion pursue with their invectives those who became dissenters or Irvingites? Was it a subject of popular indignation, discussed and denounced in railway trains and omnibuses and steamboats, in clubs and shops, in episcopal charges and at visitation dinners, if a clergyman explained away the baptismal service, or professed his intention to leave out portions of it in ministration? Did it rouse the guards or the artillery to find that the Bishop, where they were stationed, was a Sabellian? Was it a subject for public meetings if a recognition was attempted of foreign Protestant ordinations? Did animosity to heretics of the day go so far as to lead speakers to ridicule their persons and their features, amid the cheers of sympathetic hearers? Did petitions load the tables of the Commons from the mothers of England or Young Men's Associations, because the Queen went to a Presbyterian service, or a high minister of state was an infidel? Did the Bishops cry out and stop their ears on hearing that one of their body denied original sin or the grace of ordination? Was there nothing in the course of the controversy to show what the nation thought of that controversy, and of the parties to it?
Yes, I hear a cry from an episcopal city; I have before my eyes one scene, and it is a sample and an earnest of many others. Once in a way, there were those among the authorities of the Establishment who made certain recommendations concerning the mode of conducting divine worship: simple these in themselves, and perfectly innocuous, but they looked like the breath, the shadow of the movement; they seemed an omen of something more to come; they were the symptoms of some sort of ecclesiastical favour bestowed in one quarter on its adherents. The newspapers, the organs of the political, mammon-loving community, of those vast multitudes of all ranks who are allowed by the Anglican Church to do nearly what they will for six, if not seven days in the week,—who, in spite of the theological controversies rolling over their heads, could, if they would, buy, and sell, and manufacture, and trade at their pleasure,—who might be unconcerned, and go their own way, for no one would interfere with them, and might "live and let live,"—the organs, I say, of these multitudes kindle with indignation, and menace, and revile, and denounce, because the Bishops in question suffer their clergy to deliver their sermons, as well as the prayers, in a surplice. It becomes a matter of popular interest. There are mobs in the street, houses are threatened, life is in danger, because only a gleam of Apostolical principles, in their faintest, wannest expression, is cast inside a building which is the home of the national religion. The very moment that Catholicism ventures out of books, and cloisters, and studies, towards the national house of prayer, when it lifts its hand or its very eyebrow towards this people so tolerant of heresy, at once the dull and earthly mass is on fire. It would be little or nothing though the minister baptized without water, though he chucked away the consecrated wine, though he denounced fasting, though he laughed at virginity, though he interchanged pulpits with a Wesleyan or a Baptist, though he defied his Bishop; he might be blamed, he might be disliked, he might be remonstrated with; but he would not touch the feelings of men; he would not inflame their minds;—but, bring home to them the very thought of Catholicism, hold up a surplice, and the religious building is as full of excitement and tumult as St. Victor's at Milan in the cause of orthodoxy, or St. Giles', Edinburgh, for the Kirk.
"The uproar commenced," says a contemporary account, "with a general coughing down; several persons then moved to the door making a great noise in their progress; a young woman went off in a fit of hysterics, uttering loud shrieks, whilst a mob outside besieged the doors of the building. A cry of 'fire' was raised, followed by an announcement that the church doors were closed, and a rush was made to burst them open. Some cried out, 'Turn him out,' 'Pull it off him.' In the galleries the uproar was at its height, whistling, cat-calls, hurrahing, and such cries as are heard in theatres, echoed throughout the edifice. The preacher still persisted to read his text, but was quite inaudible; and the row increased, some of the congregation waving their hats, standing on the seats, jumping over them, bawling, roaring, and gesticulating, like a mob at an election. The reverend gentleman, in the midst of the confusion, despatched a message to the mayor, requesting his assistance, when one of the congregation addressed the people, and also requested the preacher to remove the cause of the ill-feeling which had been excited. Then another addressed him in no measured terms, and insisted on his leaving the pulpit. At length the mayor, the superintendent of the police, several constables, also the chancellor and the archdeacon, arrived. The mayor enforced silence, and, after admonishing the people, requested the clergy-man to leave the pulpit for a few minutes, which he declined to do,—gave out his text, and proceeded with his discourse. The damage done to the interior of the church is said to be very considerable." I believe I am right in supposing that the surplice has vanished from that pulpit from that day forward. Here, at length, certainly are signs of life, but not the life of the Catholic Church.

I shan't apologise for the lengthy quotation - this is the satirical side of Newman so little appreciated today.

Roman Report...

Things are quiet here in Rome today, with the exception of the police helicopters flying overhead providing security for President Bush's visit. There's a strong police presence on the street, and many are staying away from the city centre to avoild being caught up in protests or police roadblocks. Today is also the anniversary of the liberation of Rome. (Some cynics suggest asking the Italians who was liberating who from whom?) In addition to European election posters, the city is plastered with a mixture of George Bush 'Wanted' posters and Forza Italia messages saying 'Welcome President Bush'. The excellent Giannelli presents these two cartoon commenting on Bush's mixed reception.
In today's paper we see Berlusconi urging Bush to 'keep looking right'. Yesteray's cartoon has the same protagonists, with Bush being warned, 'Watch out George! There aren't the Italians of 1944 any more, now there are the extremely dangerous pacifists!'
On a totally unrelated note, the Corriere della Sera also presents us with a picture of Louis XVII's heart in a glass urn. It is to be laid to rest with his body in the crypt of the church of Saint Denis.

Over at Pontifications, we have this excellent post about naming the Trinity Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier. The whole issue of naming the persons of the Trinity is actually a fascinating area of Theology. Obviously, Father, Son and Holy Spirit are the privileged and proper names to use on the basis of scriptural authority, and there can be no excuse for abandoning these names for baptismal purposes. Pontificator's reasoning regarding why it's not correct to say 'Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier' is:

All of the proposed substitutes for the Triune Name twist the apostolic faith. “Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier,” for example, replaces the personal titles of the Triune Name with descriptions that are concurrently true for each Trinitarian person. In orthodox understanding, the Father creates/redeems/sanctifies by the Son through the Holy Spirit. “Creator, Redeemer, Sanctifier” is thus inherently modalistic.

This is fair enough, but isn't quite the full story. It is acceptable practise (within limits) due to the way in which God has acted in history to engage in appropriation of God's acts or qualities to one member of the Trinity or the other. Consequently, it is acceptable to refer to the Son as our Redeemer, even though we are well aware that any act of God is an act of all three persons.
However, this practise is not the same as properly 'naming' the Trinity, because it attributes properties in a manner which is reasonable, but not strictly correct. Furthermore, it views the Divine Persons as they 'appear' in relationship to us (i.e. from the point of view of the Economic Trinity) and not as they are 'in se', i.e. how they are with respect to each other in the Immanent Trinity. Consequently, the Father is Father with respect to the Son and the Son is Son with respect to the Father and the Father cannot be the Son and the Son cannot be the Father. However, the Holy Spirit causes difficulty here. I think it was St. Augustine that pointed out that the Holy Spirit's name is different - both the Father and the Son are Holy and both the Father and the Son are Spirit. Consequently, is the Holy Spirit the Third Person's 'proper' name? Well, there's no arguing with the baptismal formula given in the New Testament, but St. Augustine thought it helpful to refer to the Holy Spirit as 'Gift' and 'Love' as a proper (relational) titles within the Trinity, without suggesting any change to our normal Trinitaran formula.
I wonder if the fact that Holiness and Spiritual nature are shared by the Father and the Son casts any possible light on the Filioque controversy?

The Casuist

Due to personal commitments 'blogging will be light over th next week or so, but I do have time to share a discovery I made in a somewhat ecelectic theological library.

The Old Oligarch's recent posts on theological manuals had me browsing in the Moral Theology section and I stumbled upon volumes 1,2,4 and 5 of 'The Casuist', a collection of cases in moral and pastoral theology, compiled by JA McHugh OP. Dating from the second decade of the 20th century, these volumes are full of 'cases' of the kind often found in preconciliar periodicals for clergy. This method of moral theology has fallen out of fashion, though American moral theologian Germain Grisez adopts this approach in the third volume of his 'The Way of the Lord Jesus' moral theology series.
An idea of the issues dealt with comes from perusing the index of volume 5 - there one finds such case-titles as 'Riding in Cars Without Paying a Fare', 'Unlawful Mass Intentions', 'A Marriage with Several Obstacles' and 'Apparitions of Poor Souls from Purgatory'.
Having flicked through some of the cases, amongst the most fascinating, and with the most ingenious solution is a real case regarding invalidity of ordination and the deal of confession. I set out herewith the case and will refrain from posting the solution for several days. Anyone so inclined may guess at the answer in the commment boxes.

Case.-The case here related has actually happened, though a long time ago. To Father Aurelius there came to confession a priest, whom we will call Ignotus. He mentioned a doubt about what seemed to him a substantial defect in the nature of his ordination, which Aurelius recognised as justified, and for this reason applied to the Sacred Penetentiary. Since an invalid ordination does not admit of sanation, as does marriage, the repetition of the ordination would be necessary. However, the Penitentiary esteemed the seal of confession so highly, and gave so much consideration to the name of the one (be it bona or mala fide) invalidly ordained, that it required no disclosure of the defect to a bishop, not even by the penitent himself. The whole matter of the confession, at least concerning the person of the priest, should remain perfectly unknown.

Before I retire...

Here's a page of medieval clothing, including several vestments. Note particularly the chasuble supposedly worn by St. Bernard of Clairveaux.

On surplices and the like...

This post over at the Shrine got me thinking about one of the books I most enjoy flicking through - the 1931 Vestments and Vesture - A Manual of Liturgical Art a translation of Dom EA Roulin OSB's Linges, Insignes et Vêtements Liturgiques. Both Dom Roulin and his translator Dom Justin McCann OSB were monks of the distinguished abbey of Ampleforth and the delightfully illustrated book reflects a certain French gallic pique when the author rails against unsuitable vesture combined albeit rendered in a very refined English Benedictine register.

The 308 page work is supplemented by 6 plates and 339 illustrations and covers such diverse topics as the evolution of the mitre, church linen, modern art and an intruiging chapter entitles 'Faults of Taste and their Cure'.
Dom Roulin was unmistakably a man with a mission - he spends pages arguing against what he perceives as unsuitable and decadent ornamentation. He's no liturgical minimalist such as we might encounter today, but nor does he have any enthusaism for the excesses of some. On page 13 he provides a picture of what he describes as 'A Typically Ugly Pall - The floral decoration and the monogram are embroidered in reddish thread. Observe the wretched effect of the crumpled lace.' He is also was also an enthusiast for the so-called Gothic chasuble. Chapter 8 is entitles Full Chasubles Lawful, Traditional and Beautiful' wherein he vindicates their legitrimate use and asserts that in Italy the 'gothic' chasuble was known as the 'Roman Chasuble' and what we would call 'Roman' (or fiddleback) was usually called the 'Italian Chasuble'.
Dom Roulin also provides some practical advice. On washing church linen he warns against modern detergents and urges:

Let us endeavour to be content with hot water and when poured on the linen let it meet there nothing but a layer of soda or a layer of ash. Some linen, as for instance the purificators, cannot be cleansed of its stains unless it is boiled in the water, with a little potash added. After that the work may be completed with soap, deft hands, rain water, and as much sun as possible; for the sun not content with drying will also whiten and purify. These simple instructions will suffice for the clerical readers to whom this book is addressed. We should trust the specialists in this matter, as for instance certain communities of nuns and certain devout persons, who acquit themselves of this task with a particular attention and love.

Roulin also has strong views on surplices - basing himself on the regulations of St. Charles Borromeo he insists that the surplice be of linen, sparingly (if at all) ornamented with lace, having full sleeves and reaching to a point between knee and ankle. In short, he urges the use of what we would normally identify as an 'Anglican' surplice. To the best of my knowledge, this style of surplice is used in some diocese in the south of Italy, though it is rarely if ever seen in Rome.

Speaking of surplices, I am reminded of a certain historical incident I learned about when I had occasion to spend some time in the charming Cathedral city of Exeter. In 1844, the bishop and chapter decided the clergy of Exeter should wear the surplice whilst preaching, as was, I understand the liturgical law of the Church of England. However, to the populace this smacked of Popery, or at the very least Tractarianism and they reacted to this innovation with full-scale rioting. The decision was soon reversed, but as we read in this account trouble surfaced again in 1847.
Of interest to my readers might be this (alas undated) poster advertising a public meeting about 'Party Feeling' and this amusing .verse about the surplice riots.

In brief...

Today is the 'Festa della Repubblica', the 58th anniversary of the foundation of the Republic. In Rome it's celebrated by military aircraft flyovers and a parade. According to the Corriere della Sera there are the inevitable counter-protests, with about 100 'Disobedience' protesters near the Coliseum and 'peace' campaigners hanging flags from the bridges over the Tiber. The 'Rainbow Flag' has become an incedibly popular symbol for peace here and the Romans seem totally oblivious to it connection to the 'Gay Rights' movement. Commenting on the number of rainbow flags hanging from the windows of appartments a priest I know said 'They say there are 5 million idiots in this country, well now we know where they all live!'.

Over at Basia Me, Catholica Sum Meredith provides an excellent review of Philip Pullman's Dark Material's trilogy. Pullman's books are certainly begin as an enjoyable read, but ultimately disappoint. Meredith puts her finger on exactly why this is so.

Regarding theological manuals, the debate is continued by Sodak Monk, with the Old Oligarch responding.

De Theologia

There's an interesting post from the Old Oligarch regarding Theological Manuals.

Second hand book sales at monasteries and convents are great places to pick up old theological manuals, and that's where I remember acquiring my first manual quite a number of years ago. It was a manual of 'Pastoral Theology' and the problems it confronted seem light-years removed from those one might encounter today. It included pages and pages of hypothetical cases regarding what did and did not break the eucharistic fast. It is to the credit of the Catholic faithful of times past that they apparently took the eucharistic fast so seriously (you can be sure that's not the case today!) but when one comes across a discussion as regards whether someone who has swallowed paraffin after midnight might receive Holy Communion it's easy to appreciate the point of view that there was something which tended towards the pathological in some of the manual-based theology. I was also somewhat amused to discover that the sections dealing with the sins of the flesh were written in Latin. To this day I'm unsure whether the intention was to prevent scandal on behalf of a housekeeper who might flick through what 'Father' was reading or to blunt the effect of the passages for the priest himself.

The Oligarch also mentions the excellent 'Denzinger'. His version goes up to the 1950's, but the 38th edition of Denzinger Hunermann (taking one up to a dubium of 1995 on women's ordination) is availible in a 'bilingual' edition - Latin/Greek with facing Italian translation. The original edition has a German tranlsation and there is also a Spanish version. It's a matter of great puzzlement to me that there isn't an English language version. The nearest thing to it is the vastly inferior (though still worthwhile) Neuner and Dupuis 'The Christian Faith'. As well as containing fewer texts, Neuner and Dupuis also neglects to provide the original Greek or Latin texts, essential for anything beyond a superficial use of these texts.

Compared to speakers of Italian (and other European languages) we anglophones have been very poorly served with regards to theological resources of this kind. It wasn't until Norman Tanner's 1990 'Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils' that we've had a bilingual Latin/English version of the Vatican II texts. The two most common English language only editions, those of Flannery and of Abbott are both misleading and unclear in places without the original Latin text. Tanner's 2 volume work is based on Alberigo's critical edition of the conciliar decrees and covers all the Ecumenical Councils (not just Vatican II). This makes it quite expensive and it's quite difficult to get hold of. Nonetheless, despite shortcomings in the translation style of Tanner, the fact that the original texts are there more than makes up for any infelicities in translation, a science which is never exact anyway.

De Philosophia

Today we celebrated the feast of St. Justin Martyr, patron saint of philosophers and one of my favourites. Born in Palestine c.100, his thirst for the truth led him through the philosophical schools of the time (Stoicism, Platonism, etc.) before finally converting to Christianity at about the age of thirty. He taught the faith in Asia Minor and in Rome, and his background enabled him to achieve a synthesis of faith and reason. He may therefore be described as the first theologian as we currently understand the word, not setting aside his philosophical knowledge, but instead using it to understand and defend the reasonableness and truth of the Christian faith. He composed two Apologias in which he sought to defend Christianity from the charges made by pagans and an imaginary 'Dialogue with the Jew Trypho'. It is thanks to St. Justin that we have the earliest description of the Sunday Eucharist, including virtually all the elements familiar to us from Mass today, including the collection!
St. Justin paid the ultimate price for his faith and the
Office of Readings for today describes his martyrdom.

The saints were seized and brought before the prefect of Rome, whose name was Rusticus. As they stood before the judgement seat, Rusticus the prefect said to Justin: “Above all, have faith in the gods and obey the emperors”. Justin said: “We cannot be accused or condemned for obeying the commands of our Saviour, Jesus Christ”.
Rusticus said: “What system of teaching do you profess?” Justin said: “I have tried to learn about every system, but I have accepted the true doctrines of the Christians, though these are not approved by those who are held fast by error”.
The prefect Rusticus said: “Are those doctrines approved by you, wretch that you are?” Justin said: “Yes, for I follow them with their correct teaching”.
The prefect Rusticus said: “What sort of teaching is that?” Justin said: “Worship the God of the Christians. We hold him to be from the beginning the one creator and maker of the whole creation, of things seen and things unseen. We worship also the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God. He was foretold by the prophets as the future herald of salvation for the human race and the teacher of distinguished disciples. For myself, since I am a human being, I consider that what I say is insignificant in comparison with his infinite godhead. I acknowledge the existence of a prophetic power, for the one I have just spoken of as the Son of God was the subject of prophecy. I know that the prophets were inspired from above when they spoke of his coming among men”.
Rusticus said: “You are a Christian, then?” Justin said: “Yes, I am a Christian”.
The prefect said to Justin: “You are called a learned man and think that you know what is true teaching. Listen: if you were scourged and beheaded, are you convinced that you would go up to heaven?” Justin said: “I hope that I shall God’s house if I suffer that way. For I know that God’s favour is stored up until the end of the whole world for all who have lived good lives”.
The prefect Rusticus said: “Do you have an idea that you will go up to heaven to receive some suitable rewards?” Justin said: “It is not an idea that I have; it is something I know well and hold to be most certain”.
The prefect Rusticus said: “Now let us come to the point at issue, which is necessary and urgent. Gather round then and with one accord offer sacrifice to the gods”. Justin said: “No one who is right thinking stoops from true worship to false worship”.
The prefect Rusticus said: “If you do not do as you are commanded you will be tortured without mercy”. Justin said: “We hope to suffer torment for the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ, and so be saved. For this will bring us salvation and confidence as we stand before the more terrible and universal judgement-seat of our Lord and Saviour”.
In the same way the other martyrs also said: “Do what you will. We are Christians; we do not offer sacrifice to idols”.
The prefect Rusticus pronounced sentence, saying: “Let those who have refused to sacrifice to the gods and to obey the command of the emperor be scourged and led away to suffer capital punishment according to the ruling of the laws”. Glorifying God, the holy martyrs went out to the accustomed place. They were beheaded, and so fulfilled their witness of martyrdom in confessing their faith in their Saviour.

St. Justin's approach regarding the relationships between faith and reason, theology and philosophy, has been pretty much that of mainstream Catholic theology since his time, Tertullian and his 'What has Athens to do with Jerusalem?' quip notwithstanding. It accords well with our Catholic understanding of the nature of the fall that we can humbly aim at a synthesis between faith and reason. Without reducing God to our level, we can argue for the reasonableness of the Christian faith. Personally, I would see it as being a case of our reason being able to apprehend the mysteries of God, whilst understanding that they are not to be comprehended. Philosophy allows us to develop a vocabulary and grammar to make our theological thinking rigorous and it also makes us more keenly aware of the problems and questions that God's revelation in Jesus Christ provides the ultimate answer to! Interestingly, there is also an opposite (if less significant) movement. Theology can inspire philosophical thought. The great medieval theologians were philosophers by default, whilst more recently Leibniz (though not a Catholic) was inspired by the doctrine of Transubstantiation to refine his metaphysical system. Not very approvingly, Nietzsche once wrote: 'Among Germans I am immediately understood when I say that philosophy has been corrupted by theologians’ blood. The Protestant parson is the grandfather of German philosophy'. One might also think of Kierkegaard and St. Edith Stein.

On a slightly related note, some of you might be interested by the following Imaginary Dialogue between St.Thérèse of Lisieux and Friedrich Nietzsche by a Rome based Jesuit Fr. Michael Paul Gallagher, an expert in the field of unbelief. (No, that's not an invitation for wisecracks about Jesuits and unbelief!)

Also worth a look is this piece (Microsoft Word Document) by distinguished Catholic philosopher and Thomist Prof Eleonore Stump of St. Louis University who recently gave a series of talks here in Rome.