Saturday, 27 June 2009

Ordination time

Today is both the feasts of Our Lady of Perpetual Succour and St John Southworth. I know a splattering of men being ordained to the order of diaconate today, and at least one ordination to the presbyteral order and the first anniversary of an Oratorian whose ordination I attended last year. Congratulations to you all, and be confident of my prayers.
May they excel in every virtue:
in love that is sincere,
in concern for the sick and the poor,
in unassuming authority,
in self-discipline,
and in holiness in life.
May their conduct exemplify your commandments
and lead your people to imitate their purity of life.
May they remain strong and steadfast in Christ,
giving to the world the witness of a pure conscience.
May they in this life imitate your Son,
who came, not to be served but to serve,
and one day reign with him in heaven.

Friday, 26 June 2009

Ephraim the Syrian to the Mother of God

Sorrow on me, beloved! That I, unapt and reluctant in my will abide, and behold winter has come upon me, and the infinite tempest has found me naked and spoiled and with no perfecting of good in me. I marvel at myself, O beloved, how I daily default, and daily do repent; I build up for an hour, and an over overthrows what I have builded.

At evening I say, tomorrow I will repent, but when morning comes, joyous I waste the day. Again at evening I say, I shall keep vigil all night and I shall entreat the Lord to have mercy on my sins. But when night is come I am full of sleep.

Behold, those who received their talent along with me, strive by day and night to trade with it, that they may win the word of praise and rule ten cities. But I in my sloth hid mine in the earth and my Lord makes haste to come, and behold my heart, and I weep the day of my negligence and know not what excuse to bring.

Have mercy upon me, Thou who alone art without sin, and save me, who alone art pitiful and kind.

George Lucas

[A library picture of George Lucas laying his hand on Natalie Portman]

George Lucas was appointed Archbishop of Omaha at the start of this month, and on Monday, according to the Vatican, he will recieve the Pallium from the Holy Father.

Of course, my own metropolitan will be given the same honour, the second time he has travelled to Rome for the lambswool.
Made by nuns at St Agnes' convent from lambswool blessed by the Holy Father on the feast of St Agnes earlier in the year, on Sunday, the new Pallia will be placed in the tomb of the first Pope, St Peter, on Sunday and spend the night.
Being made of wool, they symbolise the light yoke of Christ, as well as the title of Christ, the Good Shepherd, who goes in search of lost sheep and brings them back on his shoulders, a role fulfilled today by bishops.
The Pope's Pallium, interestingly, is made of the wool of lambs and sheep, for at the end of John's Gospel, the Lord instructs Peter to feed both his lambs and sheep. Funnily enough, this is the same reading from which the title of this blog is taken.

Soundtrack of the day

As everyone has been playing this track since midnight, I thought why not replicate it here so you have to suffer it too.

Actually, loving all things 60's and 70's as I do, I quite like Jackson 5, so it doesn't infringe my self-imposed moratorium on my broadcasting solely Michael Jackson material since that paederasty trial.

Thursday, 25 June 2009

A faith of the heart

We are all converts on some level.

I suppose I am something of a revert: a Catholic since a baby who left for a bit and then came back. I suspect this story is quite common.

Many people go through life in a different religion, or no religion at all, and find that they have a faith and become a Catholic outwardly. Even those who are called cradle Catholics go through some conversion, because at some point, everybody has to look inside themselves and go into that room in the heart where God is and speak frankly with him. We cannot 'inherit' our faith from our parents - they can teach and show, as they should do - but we make our own choices in life, because when we come to face the Judge at the end of days, it is us - and only us as individuals - who will be asked the questions.

Our Holy Father reminds us of ancient teaching from our fathers in faith: that Christianity is not blind, but it is a reasonable, rational religion, illuminated by the gift of faith.

I wished to explode with joy yesterday when someone told me how they wished to learn more about the faith before starting a new job. Many Catholics don't really know much about their faith because they have never been taught it or have never looked, partly, it is said, because they were brought up with it in the family and it wasn't exactly questioned. My friend said he had largely missed out on learning the facts because his was a faith of the heart.

It just comes naturally. Questioned, undoubtedly, but when it comes to the crunch, it is always good to see someone who feels God in the heart, whether they understand what they believe or not.

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Victoriana and other monstrosities

I have spent a couple of days in our capital city recently, in part due to the fact I wanted to see the Baroque exhibition in the Victoria and Albert Museum (open until 19th July; 6 pounds for students, 11 pounds for normal people).

Like many exhibitions, it was quite small. Taking up just over a handfull of halls, it showed a splattering of highly selective examples of the baroque era: paintings, jewellery, furnature (which I particularly enjoyed), theatre costumes and props, religious antiquities of note, including a full size reredos (with tabernacle intact, but empty obviously) and original models of religious art including the Vatican's Holy Spirit window (on which, I didn't realise, the dove is the size of a fully grown man) and St Teresa of Avila in Ecstacy's face mould. Several of the pieces, unfortunately, focused on the French interpretation of Baroque trumpted by Louis XIV, rather than focusing on the Italian.

Also, I was very pleased to say hello to an old friend: cabinet I have seen in the sacristy of the Sistine Chapel was sat there in the first room. Or at least a copy.

Dinner sets, toilettes, wine coolers, beds, dresses (for men), Queen Anne's throne, clocks, tea tables, statuettes, ivory, Meissen: they are all there to be enjoyed. There were examples from almost every walk of life: if they had the money, of course. Even a seventeenth century Chinese Madonna and Child.

In the room dedicated to religion, there was a small section for Roman Catholicism's input to the world of art in the arena of the liturgy. A fine altar was laid out, though the altar cards were of interest: the text was writted on sheets of silver moulded to look like paper. Another altar card was studded with all sorts of fine jewels, next to various reliquaries and monstrances. All the other altar paraphanalia were there too: chalice, ciborium, thurible, boat, spoon, ewer, basin, cruets, paten, vestments, veils, burse (with tassels) and a video with a pair of white gloves demonstrating how all these things were put together. There was another video, which showed (maybe a mock up, I'm not sure) of the celebration of Holy Mass next door in the Oratory, which I thought was quite nice, and made its rounds on the internet quite a while ago.



Baroque: Oratory Latin Mass from Victoria and Albert Museum on Vimeo.

All the other videos and pieces of music in the exhibition are available to view on their website.

Monday, 22 June 2009

Today is my wedding day...

Sunday, 21 June 2009

Gottlieb

One of my favourite films is Amadeus.

This is quite unusual, as it is completely historically inaccurate. I think it's the only film in this category I like, probably because it changes the reality of events to suit the point of the film, rather than cinematic effect.

It is a film about Mozart, obviously. Lovers of his music enjoy the mention of some of his famous work, and present suggestions as to how they came about - "twelve foot snakes, magic flutes...it's rediculous", says his wife. "Too many notes", says the Emperor. And the outfits are wonderful. I wish I lived in those days just for that. Mozart, of course, had similar sartorial tastes to myself: not only into floral music, he was no stranger to lace and velvet.

Anyway, this film looks at the life of the musician through the eyes of Salieri, who was the Kappelmeister of the Austrian court (not the court composer, as the film suggests). He kept this post right up until his last illness, and did not die in an asylum. Needless to say, he probably didn't do anything to cause Mozart's death.

Despite these faults, Salieri is shown as a man filled with guilt and pain, and refusing to relieve himself of this, he boils over and becomes mad. It is beautiful to see his relationship with God grow and flower, and terrible to see it decline and faulter, but then again, that is often the reality of life. I wonder how many times we have asked ourselves: why does God make that arrogant wretch his instrument on earth, for the skills he has are God-given? Why does God implant a desire in us, only to take away the means of fulfilling it? I know I have asked those questions before, and I'm not the only one. But what is important is not ending up like Salieri is portrayed.



I can just feel that sword going through Saleri...excellent film.

I don't like the title of the film, though.

The composer's actual name was Johann Chrisostomus Wolfgang Gottlieb Mozart. None of his issue are around today, his line becoming extinct in the mid 19th century. I think his personality in the film is relatively accurate: i.e. arrogantly endearing. In fact, like a few people I can think of! He was a loyal Catholic, a gift from heaven certainly, and it's one of my life's aims to prove he wasn't a Freemason once and for all. His younger son suffered greatly from an inferiority complex, much unlike his father.

Saturday, 20 June 2009

And upon this rock, I build my... museum

So, the Greeks have opened yet another museum.


When I lived in the Mediterranean (where I was born), I often found that the Hellenistic society around me had a very ignorant attitude to its own history. In some ways, I would equate it to an American in England. They - and evidently I - do not understand why they don't appreciate fully what they have. It would often be the case that time after time, mouments of ancient importance would be moved around to a more convenient location, or be supplemented with modern equivalents; essentially, they were a stage set, not even a museum piece. Many landmarks would be left to ruin, no-one aware of their significance.


This was the case even in Athens in the 20th century; the level of pollution and tourism in the city was damaging its heritage. They were all very proud of their surroundings, but they didn't do anything to look after it: except patriotic politicians of course, firing shots towards their former imperial masters and 'protectors'.


Now Athens - the city known for its wisdom and philosophy, so useful in debates about modern secularisation - has opened a new museum of the Acropolis, that being the hill where the ancient city was centered, around the Parthenon bank.


First of all, this new swanky glass and concrete block completely obliterates the view of the old hill and the ruins on top of it. But overlooking that, they contain many works moved inside to preserve them, ripping them from their original location. Of course, the point of doing this is to make a very expensive point that a few of the marbles nicked by a British noble should go there.


Thomas Bruce was his name - a.k.a. the Earl of Elgin - who was a diplomat to the Ottoman court at the start of the 19th century, who then governed Greece and had done for centuries. They gave this man permission to remove a number of pieces from the site in Athens - then a Turkish fort. He had his critics at the time in Britain when they arrived here in 1812, and so the government stepped in, bought the rocks and housed them in the British Museum a couple of years later.


Anyway, with the rise of Greek nationalism and western liberalism, some argued louder and louder that the logic of retaining them in the Britain didn't make sense.


I argue, however, that the Elgin Marbles should remain in the British Museum and are, therefore, de facto property of the Museum and British state.


The British Museum is no country fayre. It is surely a world heritage site, containing not only the marbles, but an assortment of pieces which chart human civilisation world over, the most notable perhaps being the Rosetta stone. In our modern 'multicultural' and global world society, it makes sense to display different things in one place. The majority of musea around the world are in the same situation. And there is no problem with that. We are all part of the same human family, our cultures are very different, but we can all share in our heritages by virtue of our birth on this planet. The thought of hetrogenous musea - cultural ethnic-cleansing - is disgusting.


Moreover, modern Greece has barely anything to do with its ancient namesake, bar its location and alphabet (that word being just one thing we have the Greeks thank for). Our own British society and culture, as well as the Greek cuture, owes much to ancient Greece. The British, and many other societies, are the successors of ancient Greece. The Hellenic Republic has no monoply on it.


So, the arguments that they have nothing to do with Britain, and that they are solely Greek can be dismissed.


There is a legal argument, though. If the pieces were taken illegally, then they should be returned - they are stolen works.


Well, they are not stolen. Permission of the appropriate authority was sought and gained, and this was upheld by the British government too. Even if they were taken illegally, this argument can be dismissed because of the longevity of the case. A theft 200 years ago, where none of the parties are alive and everything which has happened in between, is surely irrelevant, and using this argument is clutching at straws.


The new museum did not invite any British guests to the opening, and no representitive of the place where part of its Parthenon is located, neither did it invite any royal - though that's not saying much for the country which chucked out its own king.

Your patience is rewarded


Welcome back to me.

I have returned from work at the National Shrine of Our Lady, and, funnily enough, today is the memorial of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. I know some of you have been eagerly awaiting my return. I don't quite know quite why, but it's nice to know I am enjoyed!

I have a few things I'd like to write about...some of which I shall do later today, but at the moment, I am all weak at the knees and other joints due to a blast from the past...and a lack of dietry intake today thus far.

See you in a bit. In the mean time, enjoy this picture of the Sanctissimum from this last Corpus Christi. Look! There I am holding the ombrellino (yes, I know it should be a canopy outside, but not enough men wanted to do it). And I sure didn't enjoy wearing that tippet around my shoulders.