O Sapientia

The Advent "O" antiphon for Vespers on 17 December.

O Sapientia, quae ex ore Altissimi prodiisti,

attingens a fine usque ad finem,

fortiter suaviterque disponens omnia:

veni ad docendum nos viam prudentiae.

O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,

reaching from one end to the other mightily,

and sweetly ordering all things:

Come and teach us the way of prudence.

Veni Veni Emmanuel

Our last few blogposts have been rather light on music.  No, this has not been a result of over-zealous Advent penitence, but rather just a function of the topics under consideration recently.  Time to remedy the situation. 

Over the next 7 days (as from tomorrow evening), we will post the O Antiphon of the day on the blog.  We will include the text in Latin and English, as well as let you hear the chant being sung. 

Before that though, for today here is the hymn that synthesises the seven O Antiphons.  We have included a Latin setting, as well as the version in English so beloved of Anglican Carol Services. 

Punchy

A short additional blogpost to bring to your attention a posting by Damian Thompson over at his excellent Daily Telegraph blog. 

His post is entitled "The English Bishops are trying to Smother the Ordinariate.  How long will Rome tolerate this situation?"

We have previously highlighted Damian Thompson's views of the English Bishops and their interaction with the Ordinariate. 

• The first time was in a blogpost expressing our own views on how the Catholic hierarchy in England supports people like us, as compared to our views on how the Anglican bishops used to.
• The second time was very recently, on the very sensitive topic of setting up a principal church for the Ordinariate.

Whatever you think of the subject under discussion, it's clear that Damian Thompson's post will help the debate continue.  The development of the Ordinariate is not something that should be allowed to slip quietly into the background, neither in terms of a principal church, nor in more general terms.  The debate is healthy and is necessary.  Damian Thompson's tone is more forthright than that of this blog, but there is no harm in that : it is good to raise points of concern in this way, especially on topics such as how to make sure the Holy Father's intentions for his personal project are implemented.

We still think that Ordinariate clergy running a large London parish as its principal church might not be a bad idea.  This was suggested flippantly at the end of one recent post, but it could be a good solution that both fulfils the Holy Father's wishes, and addresses the valid concerns of those both inside and outside the Ordinariate about the practicalities.  The Oratorians and Jesuits, amongst others, do it, yet no-one suggests that they are fully subsumed by that role within the local diocese.  Equally, no-one suggests that the local, non-Ordinariate parish population is any way badly served by having non-diocesan clergy in charge.

In any event, we strongly feel that where realistic and viable options arise, they should be explored actively.  No-one should jump at the first idea that comes along, and the anxieties about practicalities cannot be set aside, but nonetheless, very serious consideration should be given to plans that appear even semi viable. 

Please pray for the growth and success of the Ordinariate in this country, and around the world.

UPDATE TO ORIGINAL POST

Fr Ray Blake, on his excellent blog, which we often cite, has also now posted some thoughts following Damian Thompson's article.

Dressed to Deceive

In the past couple of weeks, there has been some heated internet discussion on the subject of Anglican clergy who, either by actively misleading people or by letting incorrect assumptions remain uncorrected, preside over situations where Catholics receive communion in their churches.

First of all, I must say that this is something that I do not think I have ever come across personally. I have certainly heard of a Vicar X or or a Rector Y who regularly has one-time visiting Catholics who do not realise that his church is not part of the Catholic Church, but deliberate deception of visiting Catholics is not something I have ever witnessed myself, at least as far as I am aware.

Catholic commentators, such as Fr Alexander Lucie-Smith, have expressed forcefully and clearly that this kind of active deception should stop.   This is not really a discussion about the use of the new translation of the Roman Rite in the Church of England and the Diocese of London in particular (such as discussed in our most popular ever blogpost), but there is a link, since an Anglican clergyman has cited the familiarity of the Roman Rite to visiting Catholics as an argument in favour of using the Roman Rite in the Church of England. (as mentioned in our blogpost The End of the Year).  Fr Alexander Lucie-Smith views this as potentially deceitful, and taking the specific case of the Anglican Diocese of London, he rightly points out that neither the Catholic Bishop of the diocese covering the area (ie the Archbishop of Westminster) nor the Anglican Bishop of London (Dr Richard Chartres) have given their permission for the Roman Rite to be used in Anglican parishes.

The main counterargument (or defence against the charges of deception) that I have spotted on the internet appears to be along the lines of "Oh yes, I have several Catholics who come to my church, and they prefer it here because the Romans are so unfriendly to them and we are much more understanding about X or Y or Z".  One can agree or disagree with what those Catholics are doing, but ultimately they are making an informed choice on the basis of their reaction to their particular situation.  In these cases, no-one is deceiving anyone else (although some might wish to say that the Catholics receiving communion in an Anglican church might be deceiving themselves).  This is a matter of personal choice and religious freedom, and as such is most definitely not the target of Fr Alexander Lucie-Smith's article.  It is, therefore, no answer to his point.

Equally, we all know that London has a very large population of Continenental Europeans, who if croyant and pratiquant, each attach more or less importance to whether they attend a Catholic church on a Sunday morning or whether they go to one of the very dignified Anglican establishments, with their fine choirs, fine buildings and, depending on the venue and the Anglican churchmanship, fine vestments and ceremonial.  This will as often as not be a French phenomenon, although there are plenty of other nations represented too (there seems to be some kind of very effective preparation given in Poland to Poles departing for the UK that greatly minimises this among the Polish population).  State Mattins at St Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey or even the Royal Hospital in Chelsea can appeal strongly to some people: there is no denying that, even if it is not the Mass.  Moreover, it would be utterly hypocritical of those of us in the Marylebone Ordinariate Group if we were to pretend that the eucharistic liturgies (whether or not approved of by Dr Chartres) in some of London's Anglo-Catholic shrines did not have some considerable outward appeal.  We do not think that Fr Alexander Lucie-Smith had these people in mind either : these are people, in possession of the facts, making a choice, with which we are free to agree or disagree, that they will not attend a Catholic church but instead they will "go local" and enjoy what is on offer in London in the Church of England.  It is their call.

Neither are we talking about a casual visitor to a Church of England parish who doesn't spot the difference, who doesn't understand the subtleties of, how shall I put it, our country's rich ecclesial history, and who, for that one-time visit only, unthinkingly receives communion.  These things happen.  Short of introducing Paisleyite notices at the start of services proclaiming that the Bishop of Rome hath no dominion in this land, or even something along the lines of, as the old but rather unkind and mean-spirited joke about the more florid and extravagant forms of Anglo-Catholic ceremonial goes, "No Popery here, only Pot Pourri", there is no way it can be avoided.
 
No, this is about what must be a small and probably dwindling minority of Anglican clergy who will answer the polite question of e.g. a visiting Spaniard "Is this a Catholic church?" with a simple "Yes."  The person giving the response may very well wholeheartedly believe, hand on heart, that they are indeed part of the one universal Church, but equally they know very well that the individual putting the question to them means something very specific when they use the phrase "Is this a Catholic church?".  The visiting Spaniard is asking whether the church is in communion with Rome, and emphatically not whether the Vicar still manages to convince himself of the continuing claims of the Anglo-Catholic movement to be a partly separate branch of the Church.

Anglican clergy who respond to questions of that nature in that way are acting in a very plainly deceitful manner.  This has absolutely nothing to do with disputes over validity or recognition of orders, nothing at all : it is very simply a case of people quite deliberately giving misleading answers to visitors.  It is plain dishonesty.  There are one or two rather well-known Bible stories about the importance of being hospitable (and one might suggest that this includes honesty) to visitors, as the clergy in question almost certainly know.

Such clergy might defend themselves by saying that not only do they genuinely consider that they are part of the Catholic Church, even if based in a slightly separated branch, but that since they have no problem with offering eucharistic hospitality to visiting Catholics, why should they care about what the visiting Spaniard's priests or bishop might say?  If the Vicar says "I have no problem with you receiving communion, but I must advise you that your Catholic bishop would not be happy", then the information and the choice are with the individual concerned: but if he doesn't, he knows perfectly well that he is deliberately deceiving his visitor. 

Another attempt to justify not telling visitors the truth would seem to be the rather proud view that what the visitor witnesses is so much nicer in terms of music and ceremonial than what they would find at home in France or Spain that the visitor should immediately be able to tell the difference.  This strikes me as extremely unkind.  In any such circumstances, what the visitor is being told "I'm going to let you think that this is a Catholic church, and if you don't notice that it isn't, then that's just your tough luck."

We have to hope that this is an increasingly rare phenomenon.  We have to hope that Fr Alexander Lucie-Smith's article touched on something that is a folk memory of the heartier days of Anglo-Catholicism, and that it does not represent the likely experience of a Catholic visiting a Church of England church today.  My own view, flawed and imperfect as my opinions may be, suggests that this is indeed the case : let us pray that this is so.

Dishonesty is just dishonesty.  It has nothing to do with ecumenism, branch theories, ordinariates, votes of General Synod, Apostolicae Curae, Saepius Officio, translations of the Roman Rite or anything else.  It is most certainly conduct unbecoming of the office and work of a clerk in holy orders.

Three Nights out at the Pictures

Today, a short post bringing to your attention two films that should be worth looking out for in 2012, and a reminder about a film that is out now.  It is a rare joy to be able to highlight three new films that include the Catholic Church without either being ludicrous or hypercritical. 

The first film, for which credit for bringing it to our attention must be given to Fr Tim Finigan is the War of the Vendée.  It looks as if it will be an astonishing film, notable not only for its use of a cast of 250 young Catholics, but in that it dares to tell what is a very politically incorrect and unfashionable story, being the story of the uprising by and then brutal crushing of loyal Catholics in the dark days of vicious religious repression that followed the French Revolution.  The film is due out in January 2012. 

In recent years, there has been much debate over whether or not the War of the Vendée constituted the first genocide of modern times.  The debate has focused on the technicalities of the definition of the word genocide, which in the circumstances seems rather irrelevant.  What is not in dispute is that the Revolutionary forces massacred Catholics who had done no wrong other than to refuse to colloborate with the barbaric excesses of the new regime, and who were prepared to fight for the Faith.

The second, much happier, film is The Unseen World, a film that will cover the life of Blessed John Henry Newman, particularly focusing on the priestly life and its challenges and blessings.  This Rome Reports footage talks of the film being released in mid 2011, but it seems that it is now scheduled for release in June 2012. 



Finally, you might still be able to catch We Have A Pope as it is being labelled in the UK, Habemus Papam in certain other countries.   It is a tale of a newly elected Pope who has a panic attack at the thought of his new responsibilities, and of his programme of treatment.  The settings are beautiful, and the attention paid to getting the wardrobe correct is impressive. 



Enjoy the films.

A Principal Church for the Ordinariate

It was after coming home last night from having attended the 5.30pm Sung Mass at Westminster Cathedral, the "mother church" of the diocese in which our Ordinariate Group is based, that I happened upon the Ordinariate Portal's news update on Facebook that some comments by Archbishop Vincent Nichols on the subject of the Ordinariate and a possible "principal church" for it had been reported on the Ordinariate Portal's website.

The Mass itself had been very good.  The usual dignified style, a stirring hymn to kick things off (Hail to the Lord's Anointed, the same Advent hymn discussed by Monsignor Andrew Burnham on the Oxford Ordinariate blog), the plainsong to Mass XVIII sung congregationally, and a good homily on happiness (we are all obsessed by trying to find it, perhaps prayer and spirituality are very effective ways to get nearer to it, Gaudete!).   It was a little more restrained, all in all, than the Beethoven in C mass setting that resounded around St James's yesterday morning, but there is a place for everything.

Although I couldn't place him at the time, I now realise that the celebrant and homilist was Fr Alexander Masters, the Precentor of Westminster Cathedral, who sang so beautifully for the recent Radio 3 live broadcast of the Requiem Mass for All Souls' Day.  You can find a little information on Fr Masters here, but the reason I recognised him in the end is that his identical twin brother was at University with me.

A couple of photos from last night are shown below.  I am very pleased with the first one, a rare example of my taking a reasonably good picture, whereas the second is of note only because it shows the Cathedral High Altar with the rose pink altar frontal appropriate to Gaudete Sunday.

One can imagine that the subject of a principal church for the Ordinariate is something that the Archbishop of Westminster is asked about quite frequently.  It is also, no doubt, a question that is addressed by and put to Monsignor Newton fairly often (the topic cropped up in the meeting described here, and is covered at the end of Monsignor Newton's long address described in the 2 October 2011 post over at the Catholic League blog.

From our discussions with other Catholics, both members and non-members of the Ordinariate, we are aware that there is some strength of feeling on this. 

There are those who see the establishment of the principal church as being likely to add definition to the Ordinariate, and thereby to add to its appeal to former Anglicans.  They see it as a key part of the mission of the Ordinariate.  They note that although the Ordinariate is not, by any means, awash with cash, the hard work of the Friends of the Ordinariate in particular is starting to bear fruit.  They consider that the Holy Father's intention is that the Ordinariate must have a principal church, and that we should press ahead with it. 

The ever-interesting and ever-forthright Damian Thompson put it like this recently.  He wonders if the Bishops of England and Wales are doing all that they could be.  The Catholic Herald also expressed a similar view in a recent editorial.  It is certainly hard to detect a sense of driving urgency and enthusiasm in the reported words of the Archbishop of Westminster on this topic, but is the obvious caution of the Bishops' Conference really such a totally bad thing?

The counterargument to the admirable drive to find a principle church asap is far from totally watertight, but it does contain a few points that cannot be swept aside without any thought.  I do not suggest that the obstacles are insurmountable, far from it, and indeed the courage that Damian Thompson and the Catholic Herald call for might help overcome them, but they do most certainly exist and will need to be dealt with. 

First, there is the question of the building.  There is certainly a small number of vacant or little used Catholic churches in London, but the list is not endless.  One imagines that the Bishops' Conference would be wary of proposing something in too poor a condition, or too far out of the way, for fear of appearing to be trying to fob the Ordinariate off, or of appearing to be trying to rid themselves of something no longer wanted rather than offering something of value to assist a personal project of the Holy Father.  Equally, as indeed hinted at by Archbishop Nichols, the Ordinariate would probably not want to take on the financial burden of a building in a state of considerable disrepair.  A couple of months ago, we put up a blogpost covering our thoughts on the support given by the Bishops of England and Wales.   Whether or not there is room for greater levels of wholehearted support for the Holy Father's intentions for the Ordinariate in some quarters there, we know for sure that the Anglican Diocese of London is not going to offer any space whatsoever.  "Why should they?" some ask : and that does indeed seem to be the attitude of Dr Chartres. 

Second, there is the question of attendance.  There are members of the Ordinariate in Central London, and some of them, with other ordinariate members and some interested Anglicans, would come together to build a congregation for a principal church.  There would of course also be other Catholics, both those interested specifically in the Ordinariate (perhaps being former Anglicans themselves) and those who happen to live or work in the area.  Any Catholic church in Central London benefits from there being a significant core Catholic population.  Even with all this combined, which would be more than the average Church of England parish in Central London could muster, would it be enough?  Nobody wants to set up a principal church that ends up, even in the early stages of its life, like the sad but familiar spectacle of a dying Anglo-Catholic shrine with more people in the sanctuary than in the nave. 

Third there is the question of funding.  Very simply, as Archbishop Nichols asked, has the Ordinariate reached a position where this can be paid for?  We are certainly at the stage where it is right not to be too gung-ho, but we are also at the stage where we are genuinely able to begin explore possibilities with a realistic expectation of being able to implement them, if it seems appropriate.

So where does this leave us?   It seems that the cautious approach is going to continue, and we can only guess the extent to which the possibilities of finding somewhere in the immediate future are being actively explored.  We hope that they are being explored, and that if they don't make sense they will be rejected (there is no need to go for the first thing that comes along), and that if they do, people will start doing some soul-searching and some number-crunching, and will have the courage called for by Damian Thompson and the Catholic Herald. 

One further thought.  Although his remark in no way diminishes the imperative of establishing a principal church in the right way at the right time and in the right place, Archbishop Nichols is absolutely right in our case at least to say that, for now, we are more than happy in our diocesan church. St James's is a wonderful place, especially for former Anglicans (all the parish clergy are former Anglicans, though not members of the Ordinariate (perhaps some honorary memberships should be handed out?)). 

That rather flippant reflection leads to a more serious one : the Oratorians, the Jesuits and others run parishes throughout the land, the Ordinariate runs the quasi-parish of St Anselm's Pembury (the Tunbridge Wells Ordinariate Group) : why might not the Ordinariate do the same thing for its principal church in London?  Perhaps the anxiety about the funding of a principal church comes from the assumption that it might be Ordinariate only, or at least largely Ordinariate only, with a few local and visiting Catholics from elsewhere to make up the numbers.  I don't think that that needs to be the case. 

Not everyone at the London Oratory is an Oratorian, and not everyone at Farm Street is a Jesuit.  For that matter, not everyone at St Anselm's in Pembury is a member of the Ordinariate.  What they are is all Catholics, just like everyone around me at Westminster Cathedral last night.

By a Singular Grace and Privilege Granted by Almighty God

It is often assumed (no pun intended) that the Immaculate Conception, like the Real Presence (and with it Dr Chartres's bête noire of Transubstantiation), the Assumption and Papal Infallibility are amongst those things that make life difficult for Anglicans who might consider joining the Ordinariate or otherwise becoming Catholics.

That analysis is rather broad, and ignores the very strong catholic teaching that has existed in a not insignificant proportion of the Church of England.  Certainly, there is an even larger proportion of the Church of England that takes a more Sola Scriptura approach, and has no time for dogmatic theology of any kind, but that in no way diminishes the value of catholic teaching that has been undertaken elsewhere.  Indeed, a recent post by William Oddie in the Catholic Herald talks eloquently of this phenomenon.  Furthermore, one of our most popular blogposts (not just on account of its extraordinary footage of Pope Pius XII making his Ex Cathedra declaration) is The Angels rejoice.... and so do the ex-Anglicans, which talks of this shared understanding.

Still, it is not difficult to see why the common perception could be that the Immaculate Conception is not an Anglican belief in general terms. 

Certainly, no-one expects it to be so on the Evangelical wing of the Church of England.  The middle-of-the-road tradition, alone with mainstream Anglican liberal opinion is largely unfussed about it, despite being happy to hear the Duruflé setting of Tota Pulchra Es, Maria sung by its choirs. 



As ever, the analysis is more nuanced in the Anglo-Catholic world.  Some of those we rudely referred to recently as the deniers might denounce the Immaculate Conception as a Roman Innovation, while others would proudly proclaim their total acceptance of it (not worrying too much about what Pope Pius IX might have had to say about some of their other beliefs, particularly on ecclesiology).

Even at the most catholic end of Anglo-Catholicism, there is a complicated picture.  On the one hand we can say quite confidently that the members of the Marylebone Ordinariate Group have not had to change their beliefs on the Immaculate Conception at all in order to be able to accept Catholic teaching.  The Immaculate Conception is and was celebrated "with the full works" at Bourne Street, even if the numbers attending on this particular day in recent years have not been (in my entirely fallible recollection at least) what they were in my first days there in the the mid 1990s.  We send our friends at Bourne St every good wish for their celebrations of this great day.

None of the above is intended to knock or indeed to mock the way in which the Immaculate Conception is viewed in any part of the Church of England.  The dogma of the Immaculate Conception has a long and complex history, and one must acknowledge that the delicacy of the argument contained in it might pass over the heads of many of those who fill Catholic churches each week, as much it might do so over an Anglo-Catholic congregation.  Having said that though, in the Catholic Church the dogma is not seen as something extreme or outlandish, it is not something that one has to make a fuss about as a kind of badge of honour of agreement or disagreement : quite simply, it is the teaching of the Church, and as such there is an general awareness of and belief in, to put it brutally simplistically, ever sinless Mary, that perhaps does not exist elsewhere.

Daring to tread where far better and more informed brains than mine have failed, here is an attempt to describe the Immaculate Conception in one paragraph and in "layman's terms".  Through the saving works of Our Lord, Mary was conceived (in the usual way by her parents Joachim and Anna) without stain of sin, and (going beyond the confines of the Immaculate Conception itself), again through His saving works, she was preserved from sin throughout her life. This is not something she achieved herself, but at every stage depended on God. It does not put her on a par with or above God, but gives her the most special of places amongst mankind.

Simple, isn't it?  So why the complex history, why did the dogma take such a very long time to define?  That is a subject for a doctoral thesis not for a poor blogpost, but even here it is worthwhile noting a small number of the more significant points in the process.  The heart of the matter seems to have been that while people could agree that Mary was, through God's grace, sinless during her life, it was not universally agreed whether this also applied to original sin, ie did Mary become sinless as from her conception, or did this happen later?  The answer may seem obvious to us today, with the benefit of over 150 years of Pope Pius IX's Ineffabilis Deus behind us, but it took some very serious intellectual effort to get us to where we are.

St Augustine said that he would not hear of sin in the context of the Mother of God.  On the face of it, that is not explicit about original sin, but then given how keen Augustine was on the topic of original sin, is it rational to think anything other than that he did mean to include original sin in his sinlessness of the Mother of God? 

There is a view that some of the difficulty in getting to a defined dogma was caused by Thomas Aquinas not accepting the Immaculate Conception.  His views are not that straightforward, as this article explains. 

The lack of a formal definition, binding on the whole Church, carried on for some centuries.  Although some dioceses, with papal permission, celebrated the Immaculate Conception with the full definition we know today, this was not universal.  Even the Council of Trent shied away from a definition. 

We had to wait until 1854 for Pope Pius IX to declare :

We declare, pronounce, and define that the doctrine which holds that the most Blessed Virgin Mary, in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin, a doctrine revealed by God and therefore to be believed firmly and constantly by all the faithful.

Today, Catholic teaching is very clearly, indeed dogmatically, defined, and thanks be to God for that. 

Above, we included the well known Duruflé setting of Tota Pulchra Es, Maria.  This text, which is an odd one for non Catholics to be keen on, is also the Alleluia for Mass on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, and is partly built on text from the Song of Songs, text which was set by Palestrina. 



Regular readers of this blog will note that we have a passing interest in what one might call in a politically incorrect way, Spanish Colonial church music.  For example, we have previously included a Cuban setting of a requiem.  Today's great Solemnity provides an excuse to explore some more of the treasures of Latin American sacred music, in the form of an anonymous eighteenth century setting from Bolivia of Tota Pulchra Es, Maria : now that's a sentence few of you will have had cause to read before. 



May Immaculate Mary pray for us.

Archbishop Amigo of Southwark and Bishop St Nicholas of Myra

Today's post will talk of St Nicholas, of course, but before that, a brief follow up of a mention of a great man of the Church in England (and who, like me, was born in Gibraltar), whose name appeared on this site recently.

Readers will perhaps recall that in our extremely widely read post More than Words, we cited Fr Ray Blake's recounting of an anecdote about the famous Archbishop Amigo of Southwark.  Well, the topic of Archbishop Amigo has clearly being playing on Fr Blake's mind, and as a result he has tracked down some stunning footage of Archbishop Amigo's funeral procession and burial.  It is well worth making Fr Blake's very popular St Mary Magdalen, Brighton blog part of your regular reading, and a permanent link to that site is to be found on the right hand sidebar of this blog. 

Here is the Pathe film that Fr Blake highlighted.

Fr Blake's blogpost on this subject also includes an excellent photo of Archbishop Amigo, taken in the late 1940s on the occasion of his visit to St Joseph's Brighton, surrounded by a Father Pepper (on the left) and a Father Munns (right).  Trawling the internet for more images, I came across these two, which carry on the theme mentioned earlier in our post of 11 November.  In that post and in the first of these two photos, you see a bomb-damaged church.  Below, we can see Archbishop Amigo standing in the shell of his cathedral, St George's in Southwark.  The second photo shows the procession returning to the still ruined St George's for his interment, after the Requiem Mass at Westminster Cathedral : what an incredible day that must have been, as Fr Ray's Pathe film makes clear: the kneeling in the street is extremely powerful.

 
May the soul of Peter Emmanuel Amigo, first Archbishop of Southwark, rest in peace.  May Our Lady, St Nicholas and all the Saints pray for him.

***

As you all know of course, today's Saint is St Nicholas.  It takes a while to find information on St Nicholas that doesn't end up disappearing down the tangent of Father Christmas and Santa Claus, but we will do our best to ensure that this page does not fall for the same temptation.

Born in the second half of the third century AD, Nicholas was born to a wealthy family in what is now Turkey, and upon the death of his parents was cared for by his uncle the Bishop of Patara, who guided him on his way to the priesthood.   He used his inherited wealth for charitable works, and was known for lifelong piety.  Not much that is known of his life is unchallenged by one historian or another, but we do know that he was Bishop of Myra, a town on the river Myros, in the fertile western plains of Turkey.

Dom Guéranger talks of today's feast in l'Année Liturgique

Today, the Church celebrates with joy the memorial of the distinguished miracle worker Nicholas, as renowned in the East as our great Saint Martin is here in the West, and honoured for almost a thousand years by the Latin Church.  Let us honour the authoritative power that God gave to him, but let us more than anything be thankful to him for having been one of the number of the 318 Bishops who proclaimed at Nicaea that the Word was consubstantial with the Father.  Nicholas was not shocked by the abasement of the Son of God; neither the lowliness of the flesh with which the Sovereign Lord clothed himself in the womb of the Virgin, nor the humbleness of the crib, prevented him from proclaiming the Son of God, the son of Mary, as equal to God; this is why he has been raised to glory, and has received the charge of obtaining, each year, for the Christian people, the necessary grace for them to go before the Word of Life, with a simple faith and a burning love.

St Nicholas is not in fact one of the signatories of the Council of Nicaea, but tradition has it that he was there, and that he played an extremely prominent role in suppressing any temptation to fall into the ways of Arianism.

As Dom Guéranger wrote, like St Gregory the Wonderworker, who was mentioned in an earlier post on this blog, St Nicholas also rejoices in the title of Θαυματουργός, Thaumaturgos, Wonderworker, on account of his renown for performing wondrous works and miracles. 

A good and wondrous work that might not strictly be a miracle is probably the deed with which he is most associated.  It is the tale of a poor father of three daughters, without sufficient funds to provide dowries for his girls :  Nicholas provided three bags of gold, either one each year as the girls came of age, or on three consecutive nights depending on the version of the story, and thus saved the young ladies from a life of poverty and prostitution.  You can guess the tradition of gift giving to children to which that story led....  More interestingly, it also led to St Nicholas often being depicted holding three round bags of gold, and in the way that these things often do, this depiction gradually morphed into St Nicholas holding three oranges, which is supposedly the origin of the tradition of orange giving in Christmas stockings (in the days before noisy flashing lumps of plastic tat became all powerful).

His most famous miracle is connected with his ordering sailors to unload some wheat from a ship docked at port.  The wheat was bound for the Byzantine Emperor, but St Nicholas, then Bishop of Myra, desperately wanted to feed his starving, famine-struck people.  He persuaded the reluctant sailors that no harm would come of their unloading some of their cargo : they relented, unloaded some wheat, and upon departure realised that they still had the same quantity of wheat aboard as before.

He is also said to calmed a storm during a sea voyage.

St Nicholas to this day maintains an association with the sea.  He is the Patron Saint of many places and of many professions and groups, but not only is he Patron Saint of Seafarers, his name is also associated with many port towns across Europe.  Here he is, depicted as he rescues sailors from a terrible, watery fate.

Of course, many know of his association with the city of Bari in southern Italy.  His remains were brought there from Smyrna during the eleventh century, in the midst of the struggles for posession of Asia Minor and the Holy Land.  Photography and scientific testing in the 1950s backed up the legend that his entire remains were buried Bari, with very little having been removed to supply relics around Christendom.

One place that does have a relic of St Nicholas is the French town of St Nicolas de Port.  Originally called simply Le Port, the town is situated on the Meurthe River, a tributary of the Rhine, not far from Nancy in the Lorraine.  St Nicholas is Patron Saint of the Lorraine, and in the eleventh century, a fingerbone from his right hand (hence the reliquary below showing his right hand giving a blessing) was brought to the town church from Bari. 

 

The first church dedicated to St Nicholas in the town of Le Port was built in the twelfth century, and now the town boasts its own Basilica, a flamboyant gothic creation of the 15th and 16th centuries, built by Rene II, Duke of Lorraine in thanksgiving for and in celebration of his victory at the Battle of Nancy over Charles the Bold.  It was raised to the status of Basilica by Pope Pius XII in 1950.  (It's been at least a week since Pius XII received a mention on this blog, so I'm pleased I found a way to do so.)

Finally, some music.  The choice is obvious, because the setting of the ordinary of the mass sung at my wedding in St Mary's Bourne St was the Missa Sancti Nicolai by Haydn.  That setting was a firm favourite at Bourne Street, making regular appearances over many Christmastides, just as it was a much overworked favourite - at any time of year - when I was in charge of choosing music lists at Pusey House. 

In this penitential season of Advent, even as we mark the feast of a great Saint, which better movement to pick than the Kyrie.  Even having heard this setting many times, I am still very keen on the beautiful simplicity of the circles of fifths in the Kyrie, and the descending sevenths of the alto part.  A classic piece of Haydn, painfully simple, yet utterly characteristic and extremely beautiful.



Deus, qui beatum Nicolaum Pontificem innumeris decorasti miraculis : tríbue, quaesumus ; ut eius meritis et precibus a gehennæ incendiis liberemur.

Deacon Bradley and the Gateway to the South

A blog like this needs to have several categories of posts if it is to stand a chance of keeping people interested.  One of our various categories describes our reactions, as new members of the Catholic Church, to our increasing awareness of being part of a very large "organisation", both in overall terms and in the specifics of parish and Ordinariate life.  In terms of the general, our October post entitled the Universal Church talked of a dawning consciousness of the global scale of the Catholic Church.  At a more local level, our blogpost on All Saints' Day talked about a most enjoyable visit to Holy Apostles, Pimlico.

Yesterday, I took the opportunity, following the kind invitation of James Bradley, to attend mass at the parish of the Holy Ghost in Balham, where James is parish Deacon.  James is a Deacon in the Ordinariate, and a friend of the Marylebone Ordinariate Group (having kindly deaconed our Reception Mass on September 3rd).  He is also a Deacon of some very spectacular international renown, having sung the Gospel in front of the Holy Father, countless Cardinals, Archishops, Bishops and Priests, and of a congregation far in excess of one million at the recent World Youth Day celebrations in Madrid.

Arriving in Nightingale Square, SW12, I was greeted by a sight that is now very familiar.  Catholic parishes usually have a series of masses each Sunday morning, often meaning that as the congregation from one mass files out, the congregation for the next mass is beginning to arrive.  This is something I had witnessed as an Anglican only during my days living in Hong Kong, where the Anglican Cathedral had the similar dual properties of a busy timetable and high attendance levels.  It was not something that I had previously encountered in the Church of England.

Since the often-maligned Victoria and Northern Lines had sped me down from Pimlico to Balham in unbelievably quick time (barely longer than it would have taken me to get to St James's), I was able to take the opportunity to wander around the square a little before mass, and to take the photo below, before finally approaching the church.  If you look very carefully in this photo by zooming and with your magnifying glass, you will see James in his purple dalmatic, right at the back, talking with a parishioner.

James greeted me at the door, helped me find the right selection of books and cards, and pointed me into the church itself.  Still not having the necessary brazen nature for papparazo duties, I managed only one photo of the interior of the church, the grainy result of which can be seen below.  Other photos are of course available by perusing the parish's own website.

I will confess that I had done a little preparation before my visit.  Years of Anglo-Catholic training had taught me to be very careful when stepping away from familar territory, you never know what you might find when away from home.  Yet, this caution was, as in the case of my visit to Holy Apostles Pimlico, shown to be utterly unnecessary.  In any event, the information I had read beforehand was extremely positive.  I had come across an article by Joanna Bogle entitled London's Balham parish, 'an icon of liturgical hope', which made me very much look forward to the Mass, despite my usual pathetic and despicable Central Londoner's attitude of wariness about crossing the river or going outside the Circle Line.

The Joanna Bogle article proved to describe a scene virtually identical to the one I found, as this extract explains :

Parish music director is Jeremy de Satge......  At Balham, there is a parish choir that sings Latin plainchant, and lovely settings of the Introit verse in Latin and English. The congregation has been taught some Mass settings and now large numbers of them join in, too.

The choir meets weekly to practise. It is made up of volunteers, many of whom do not read music. They are amateurs in the best sense of the word - people who love what they are doing.

Add to this a dignified sanctuary, a glittering new tabernacle in gold, marble floors that shine, a generous array of candles in tall silver candlesticks, and priests who celebrate the liturgy with love - and you have something that builds up the parish numbers, and attracts people from farther afield too.....

.....Is all this difficult? It seems not - although goodwill and energy are required. Jeremy de Satge is a convert- he joined the Church aged 18, back in the late 1970s, after a childhood spent singing in Anglican church and cathedral choirs. As a Catholic, he came to know and love the music and liturgy at London's Brompton Oratory and this was partly what inspired him to see what he could achieve at parish level.

Of course, commitment and encouragement from the parish priest are essential. Father Stephen Langridge, parish priest at Balham, makes no secret of wanting the best for God - a church that is a true place of prayer, a devout and enthusiastic congregation, a parish where the children are well instructed and the Faith is taught and honoured. Is it just a coincidence that confession is widely promoted? Confessions are heard regularly, including on Sundays, and the subject is mentioned frequently from the pulpit. 

I noticed that the church was busy, with a preponderance at the front of families with children, and elsewhere a remarkably healthy mix of men and women of all ages. Mass started with the sound of a bell, the choir beginning the plainchant introit in Latin, and a long procession entering from the sacristy.   The altar was censed (I noted the use of the so-called "Benedictine arrangement", with a cross standing in the middle of the altar), and we set to work using the new translation, which seemed already to have settled in very nicely with the congregation. 

After some more chant from the choir and some very well executed readings by a member of the congregation, I had the chance once again to hear Deacon Bradley singing the Gospel.  Then, we had the reason for his invitation, a homily that touched on the Ordinariate, what its place was, what its purpose was, and what its genesis had been.   This is part of the mission of the Ordinariate as mentioned in our blogpost yesterday, to introduce ourselves and to explain the purpose of the Ordinariate to the wider Catholic community. 

James's excellent homily may well be appearing elsewhere on the internet soon, and if it does, we will provide a link to it here.  Suffice it for now to say that I could very easily identify personally with much of what he said: life in Oxford and Sevenoaks, studying music at university, leaving behind Anglican years of a sound music tradition and catholic practice, and finally coming into the full communion of the Catholic Church this year.  The call to unity, as Our Lord had willed on the night that he was betrayed, was the driving force both behind the Holy Father's invitation in Anglicanorum coetibus, and behind the impetus that causes Anglicans to leave behind what they have known and loved and to accept that invitation.  The call to unity is a clear and explicit Gospel imperative.  The Catholic Church was not receiving us as naughty, errant schoolchildren, but as Christians who sought to follow that Gospel imperative.  Refusing Anglicanorum coetibus was not only resisting the call to unity, but actively blocking it. 

The homily talked of that great hymn, O Thou who at Thy Eucharist didst pray (which we sang later as a communion hymn) as a prayer very much connected with concepts behind the Ordinariate, especially the verse :

We pray Thee too for wanderers from thy fold;
O bring them back, good Shepherd of the sheep,
back to the faith which saints believed of old,
back to the Church which still that faith doth keep;
soon may we all one Bread, one Body be,
through this blest Sacrament of unity.

James explained that the Ordinariate had around 1000 lay members and around 60 clergy (with more in both categories planning to join in 2012), but as yet no churches and little money.  Members of the congregation were invited to discuss the Catholic Church and the Ordinariate with their Anglican friends, so that the human face of the Church can shine through.    As to financial support, another friend of the Marylebone Ordinariate Group, Peter Sefton-Williams, from the Friends of the Ordinariate, was present, and with James handed out leaflets about the work of the Ordinariate and the Friends of the Ordinariate after Mass.  We understand some donations were received, and a number of people have approached James about exploring the possibility of joining the Ordinariate.

After the homily and some sung intercessions, I was delighted to hear the Roman Canon, Eucharistic Prayer I, in use.  Although always dignified (not least the sonorous gong at the consecration), we moved quickly and efficiently through, and before long it was time to receive the sacrament, which a very sizeable proportion of people did on their knees, despite the lack of an altar rail.  A chance to sing Rorate Coeli in Latin followed (I had only sung it in English before, and so, despite having heard it in Latin previously, I was beaten to this achievement by a friend from Hong Kong.) 

We had various parish notices, including a reminder for parents to get references for applications to the Holy Ghost parish school, and a young chap called Peter then addressed the congregation in a very impressive and confident (and concise) fashion on youth group activities: it was all done efficiently though, and before long Deacon Bradley was inviting us to bow our heads for the blessing.

People might think they could accuse someone whose experience of the Catholic Church is mostly based around St James's Spanish Place, with some knowledge of the London Oratory, the Oxford Oratory and Westminster Cathedral of not having had the widest possible experience of the Catholic Church.  Perhaps so, but there is a clear answer to that superficial criticism: whenever I have found myself away from what critics might term my "comfort zone", I have always been very happy with what I have found, be that in France, Scotland, Kent, Pimlico or indeed Balham. 

The point is that, whatever the music, whatever the vintage of the vestments, whatever the particular Eucharistic Prayer employed, whatever the location, whether in Latin or the new English translation, the Catholic Church is the Catholic Church, and the Mass is the Mass, and all is in communion with the Holy Father.  That is one of the great joys of having becoming a Catholic, and does not depend in any way whatsoever on the Central London privilege of having access to some of the most well known Catholic places of worship in this country

Let us give thanks to God for the work of the parish of the Holy Ghost in Balham, and for the Ordinariate.  May their impressive achievements and ongoing efforts continue to bring great benefits to the people of that part of London.

Denial Ain't Just a River in Egypt

In our post discussing the introduction of Anglican liturgies in Anglican parishes where the Roman Rite had previously been used, we asked the following question.

So is it unkind, or is it actually rather merciful, for the Bishop of London to have written his letter in this way at this time?  Is he kicking people when they're down, or is he doing everyone a favour and asking them to make a decision about the future they truly want?

The more we think about it, the more we think that, whether this is what he intended or not, the Bishop of London is probably doing everyone a favour by forcing them to re-examine their positions.  Events are such that people need to give some thought to what is going around them.

John Betjeman, in his poem Summoned by Bells, cited the mocking questions often asked to him and fellow Anglo-Catholics as to why they seemed to "ape" some features of the Catholic Church:

Those were the days when that divine baroque
Transformed our English altars and our ways.
Fiddle-back chasuble in mid-Lent pink
Scandalized Rome and Protestants alike:
"Why do you try to ape the Holy See?"
"Why do you sojourn in a halfway house?"
And if these doubts had ever troubled me
(Praise God, they don't) I would have made the move.
What seemed to me a greater question then
Tugged, and still tugs: Is Christ the Son of God?

Betjeman was writing at a very different time from the one in which we live.  The Anglo-Catholic thesis, the branch theory, held then as much as it ever did.  Among other efforts to promote unity on the part of the Church of England, Saepius Officio and the "Dutch Touch" were very serious and sincere attempts (whether one considers them to have been succesful or not) to align the Church of England's orders with those of the Catholic Church.  Fr John Hunwicke talked of the Dutch Touch in the following terms :

Some sixteen years ago I coined the phrase 'the Dutch Touch' to describe the participation after 1933 of Dutch schismatics with indubitably valid orders in Anglican episcopal consecrations (the technical details are in my paper in the volume Reuniting Anglicans with Rome). The secret archives in Pusey House, Oxford, make absolutely clear that the intention of the very highest levels in the Church of England and the Dutch Old Catholic Church was to introduce the 'Dutch Succession' into the Church of England and so, after two or three generations, render Apostolicae curae obsolete. Remember that in 1662 the Cof E had made the formulae in presbyteral and episcopal ordination (which [Pope] Leo [XIII] had asserted were insufficiently clear), more explicit. Although the plotting of 1933 was done in private (so that nobody could say 'Ah, the Anglicans do realise they are not real priests'), it clearly represents a formal and ecclesial act.

Who in their right mind would argue that the approach of the Church of England would be the same today?  The Church of England has taken the approach that it has the right to vote on making whatever changes it likes, and if this leads to the creation of significant differences with the wider Church, whether in the East or the West, then that's just tough.  Not exactly Ut Unum Sint, is it?

Cardinal Walter Kasper, at the 2008 Lambeth Conference, said the following as part of his longer address :

We would see the Anglican Communion as moving a considerable distance closer to the side of the Protestant churches of the 16th century, and to a position they adopted only during the second half of the 20th century.

The 1966 Common Declaration signed by Pope Paul VI and Archbishop Michael Ramsey called for a dialogue that would “lead to that unity in truth, for which Christ prayed”, and spoke of “a restoration of complete communion of faith and sacramental life”. It now seems that full visible communion as the aim of our dialogue has receded further, and that our dialogue will have less ultimate goals and therefore will be altered in its character. While such a dialogue could still lead to good results, it would not be sustained by the dynamism which arises from the realistic possibility of the unity Christ asks of us, or the shared partaking of the one Lord’s table, for which we so earnestly long.

No-one, when trying to come up with examples of ultra-hardline, ultra-conservative or anti-ecumenical Catholics would ever come up with Pope Paul VI and Cardinal Kasper.  It's not just us pesky Catholics, of whatever hue, who are worried by the new approach of Anglicanism.  No, it's also the Orthodox, with whose spirituality a certain kind of Anglican cleric often likes to claim affinity.  At a 2010 address to the Nicaea Club at Lambeth Palace, Metropolitan Hilarion, of the Russian Orthodox Church, after recalling the warm history of co-operation between Anglicanism and the Orthodox, and having taken several none-too-subtle swipes at the über-liberal practices of certain parts of the Anglican Communion, went on to comment that the Church of England's approach on certain issues was not conducive to Christian Unity.

We have studied the preparatory documents for the decision on female episcopate and were struck by the conviction expressed in them that even if the female episcopate were introduced, ecumenical contacts with the Roman Catholic and the Orthodox Churches would not come to an end. What made the authors of these documents so certain?

Betjeman's concept of a "greater question" seems to have a completely different meaning now.  The "greater question" today is whatever happens to be on General Synod's agenda, and as long as the right legal and procedural niceties are respected, that can be just about anything.

There are, however, plenty in the Church of England who see what is happening as a very good thing, and of course they have every right to do so.  This is perhaps where the events of the past 20 years in the Church of England might be seen as having a positive outcome.  As suggested so compellingly in William Oddie's excellent and very prescient book The Roman Option, perhaps this is an opportunity for those who want to be clearly Catholic to become so, in full communion with Rome, and an opportunity for those who do not to be free of the shackles (as they might see it) of having to take into account the position of the Catholic Church on certain matters.

Even amongst those Anglicans who have felt themselves having difficulty with some of the Church of England's changes, there are different schools of thought.

There are people in the Church of England who, bravely and with great honesty, are deciding that in fact perhaps the label of Catholic or even Anglo-Catholic doesn't tell their whole story.  This must be difficult for some (but possibly joyful for others), and we must all hope and pray that for such people it represents a new and positive dawn.

Then there are those who are in a dilemma, who want to adhere to Catholic faith and practice within the Church of England.  These people, who see impaired communion as the only difference between them and their friends in the Catholic Church, need our prayers, support and sympathy.  There are difficult times ahead for them, and hard realities to be faced. 

There is a third category, one that includes many clergy: those who are in denial. 

Their view is that the Church of England will remain catholic (more so than the Pope indeed, who they feel has got many things wrong), no matter what General Synod decides on any issue.  Theirs is an Anglo-Catholicism steeped in an almost congregationalist approach, taking the John Keble line that as long as they run their parish, all is well.  Après moi le déluge.  They hark back to times long gone, to the era of the magnificent triumphs of the Anglo-Catholic conferences, when people, such as exemplified in the fictional Fr Hugh Chantry-Pigg, talked disparagingly of the Italian Mission and the Irish Mission.  The dramatic transformation in the ecclesial body around them is irrelevant, they believe.  They don't need to listen to the Bishop of Rome, they say, although they will pick and mix their way through the liturgies of his many predecessors, blending the concoction that best pleases them (one wonders how the Anglican Bishop of London, who disapproves of the use of the new translation of the Roman Missal by his clergy, feels about the use of never-authorised translations of pre-1955 Holy Week rites in his diocese).  

Those in denial are, to be fair, enjoying something that is truly appealing and truly great fun to a certain number of people.  Many a present and former Anglo-Catholic fully understands the temptation to take the "pull up the drawbridge approach".  What is unfair though, is when such people criticise the Ordinariate.

Other Catholics who have not had full information on what the Ordinariate is, quite rightly ask questions about the Ordinariate.  Many on the liberal wing of the Church of England do not like the Ordinariate, perhaps as a result of synodical battle scars incurred over many years, even if we would argue they should be happy to see us go.  Similarly, what Damian Thompson might rather bluntly call the "tabletista tendency" in the Catholic Church is not always thrilled by the existence of the Ordinariate.  All that, we can take, we can understand, and we will all come to a mutual understanding free of the fears of the unknown on all sides.  The Ordinariate engages actively in a programme of explaining its mission as widely as possible.

Sadly, those "in denial" usually like to make a big point of how the Ordinariate is irrelevant to them.  They don't need to join the "Roman Church" and even if they ever did so, they proclaim that they would not join the Ordinariate.

Why do the "deniers" act like this?  Perhaps, to some extent, fear of the unknown (and we can all understand that).  Perhaps a sadness at having to face up their dream of a Church of England as the Catholic Church in this Land slipping away (again, an entirely legitimate emotion).  There may be other reasons too.

One of the ultimate bêtes noires of the deniers is the question of ordination, and as a layman, I am going to steer well clear of that topic.  The only thing I will say is that people who are anxious about how their own ministry up to that point will be regarded (very favourably, is the answer, including in a prayer of thanksgiving in the Ordination Service), should understand that the Ordinariate is one way in which the Holy Father shows that he most definitely values the existing ecclesial, liturgical and religious life of Anglicans, and that he wants to bring them in to the Catholic Church without treating them as if they knew absolutely nothing.

The establishment of the Ordinariate was about many things, not least a response to groups of Anglicans across the world who had asked for a way to come into communion with Rome as groups.  However, it was also about recognising that Anglicans have something to bring with them.  There has been much discussion about what Anglican Patrimony means, but certainly, one of the thing that the existence of the Ordinariate recognises is that incoming Anglicans do not arrive with a year zero level of knowledge.  Often, a tailored programme of catechesis will be provided (in the same way that a tailored programme of priestly formation is provided for Ordinariate priests), acknowledging that these Anglicans are in a special position, they are not totally new to the Faith.  One of our most popular blogposts talked about the shared beliefs between Anglo-Catholics and those already in the Catholic Church.
 
The Ordinariate should be understood for what it is, a means to welcome Anglicans in, if they want to make that journey, on a basis that values all that they have done thus far, that will build on their existing experience, knowledge and gifts, and doesn't treat them as if they know nothing.

If readers will permit me this moment of vanity, I conclude with the last few paragraphs I wrote in an email announcing my departure from the Church of England :

This is not a decision taken lightly or in the heat of the moment. It is not a decision made out of hurt or disappointment. It is a tremendously difficult decision made out of a conviction that the right home for people with views such as mine is the Roman Church.

In May 1843, Blessed JHN wrote :

"At present I fear, as far as I can analyze my own convictions, I consider the Roman Catholic Communion to be the Church of the Apostles, and that what grace is among us (which, through God's mercy, is not little) is extraordinary, and from the overflowings of His dispensation. I am very far more sure that England is in schism, than that the Roman additions to the Primitive Creed may not be developments, arising out of a keen and vivid realizing of the Divine Depositum of Faith"

I think that about sums it up. I am infinitely less uncomfortable with the trickier parts of Roman "innovation" than I am with what the CofE is doing.

Making a separate point, how apt that this Newman extract was also cited by Fr Aidan Nichols OP in his homily at the "first mass" of Fr Andrew Burnham (the inverted commas were used by the Oxford Oratory too, they are not mine). Fr Nichols made a reference to Newman saying that there was "not little" grace among us in the CofE, and referred to Fr Burnham as Bishop Andrew - so like Fr Aidan and Fr Andrew, I do not regard what I am about to do as a rejection or a negation of anything I have done, rather, to paraphrase Fr Nichols again, this time from his sermon at the deaconing of the three former Anglican bishops, a "quiet rectification" of my position.

It seems that Dr Chartres's words will bring people closer to accepting the reality of their situation.  Some will be delighted with the new situation, others will feel called to think seriously about making a change.  The outcome for both is surely positive, even if there will surely be trials and challenges along the way.