The National Catholic Reporter agrees with me

Well this is awkward...

In 2011, the new English Translation of the Roman Missal became official, including a new translation of the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil.  Notable among the changes in the Exsultet was a reference to the Easter Candle made of wax, "the work of bees".

But 2011 was, after all, only five years ago and it's entirely inappropriate to expect people to actually implement something as radical as changing the Exsultet in such a short period of time.  So our humble parish, away from civilization, out in the boonies, with no access to electricity or fancy book-learning, continues with the old, non-apiary focused Exultset.  Apparently no one knows the music to the new expanded version.  All of our hymns were published by OCP in the 1990s, so that's understandable.  But if only some clever person would figure out how to record music so it could be played back as an aid to learning it.

But every spring, the promise of baseball, greening of the leaves and the buzzing of the insects warms the cockles of my cold black, pharisaical, throw-away, pre-Vatican heart and I long to hear about the beautiful bees in the Exsultet.  And every year I am disappointed.

Now, even the National Catholic Reporter is praising the bees.  The emphasis on environmentalism is a bit stretched, to my mind.  But since my parish and diocese regularly reads NcR perhaps next year will be different.

Fin de Siecle

With the passing of Mother Angelica, it seems even more clear that we've hit the end of an era, at least in America.  First our supposedly "conservative" Chief Justice started re-writing law to allow the Obamacare mandate that affected the biggest expansion in government control in the history of the United States.  Then Pope Benedict XVI, who ask for prayers that he wouldn't flee from the wolves fled from the wolves and resigned.  Then Cardinal Burke got fired.  Then our "conservative" Chief Supreme Court Justice decided that the constitution not only allows gay marriage, it requires it.  Then our "conservative" political party started playing footsie with a vulgar, adulterous, orange-colored boor as nominee.  Then the greatest conservative justice on the Supreme Court died and now Mother Angelica has passed the earth.

Not for the first time, I'm reminded of Yeat's The Second Coming.

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Who will take the place of Pope Benedict XVI, Antonin Scalia, and Mother Angelica?   The pessimist will say "no one".  The optimist will say "we may have lost leaders, but we still have a movement".  Wouldn't that be something?  A sea of cultural and spiritual conservatives breaking over the sea-wall of liberalism; the head is struck down, yet the flock charges on.

On Twitter, a question was posed: what would you say to new Catholics this Easter?  I replied "Don’t get discouraged by “bad” Catholics. We don’t follow pundits or priests. We follow Christ risen."  I meant it then, and I mean it today.  But it's one thing that there's a fever swamp of bad catholics out there that give the faith a bad name.  It's another thing that no one effectively repels it.  For every liberal outrage, there may be 100 or 1000 bloggers, Tweeters, Facebookers and so on to rebut the arguments or present an alternative interpretation.  But is there anyone that people are forced to take seriously?  Like it or not, the media controls the dialog. Is there anyone who the media recognizes as a voice for conservative Catholics?  Is there anyone who is in a position of authority who will do something besides issue limp wristed statements when liberal catholics get out of line?

In short, is there anyone in the Catholic Church who will (1) say something like this and (2) be listened to?

(Michael Voris and Father Zuhlsdorf are a "Yes" for the first question but a "No" for the second.)

Mother Angelica put steel in the spine of the US Catholic Bishops.  In the 1980s, they were willing collaborators with the liberal agenda of women priests, open marriage and contraception.  They reluctantly drew the line at abortion.  Mother Angelica's emotional and thoughtful rejection of that nonsense, along with the visible support of the Pope, eventually caused that nonsense to at least go underground.   And eventually we got a few Bishops in the mold of Burke, Chaput, Loverde, Morlino and Bruskewitz.

Now our Bishops are "pastoral" and the best conservatives can hope for is benign neglect from the Vatican.

Mother Angelica stepped down from EWTN over a decade ago.  Her passing is a symbolic tragedy and not a strategic setback.  And that it happened on Easter is inexplicable.

Rest in Peace.

A comfortable faith

I finished The Man Who Was Thursday today.  This is a bit from the end of the book. It is a conversation between the same two poets I mentioned a couple of posts back.  Gregory is the anarchist and Syme is the poet of order.  Gregory, in the novel, is a allegorical representation of Lucifer.

"You!" [Gregory] cried. "You never hated because you never lived. I know what you are all of you, from first to last—you are the people in power! You are the police—the great fat, smiling men in blue and buttons! You are the Law, and you have never been broken. But is there a free soul alive that does not long to break you, only because you have never been broken? We in revolt talk all kind of nonsense doubtless about this crime or that crime of the Government. It is all folly! The only crime of the Government is that it governs. The unpardonable sin of the supreme power is that it is supreme. I do not curse you for being cruel. I do not curse you (though I might) for being kind. I curse you for being safe! You sit in your chairs of stone, and have never come down from them. You are the seven angels of heaven, and you have had no troubles. Oh, I could forgive you everything, you that rule all mankind, if I could feel for once that you had suffered for one hour a real agony such as I—" 

Syme sprang to his feet, shaking from head to foot. 

"I see everything," he cried, "everything that there is. Why does each thing on the earth war against each other thing? Why does each small thing in the world have to fight against the world itself? Why does a fly have to fight the whole universe? Why does a dandelion have to fight the whole universe? For the same reason that I had to be alone in the dreadful Council of the Days. So that each thing that obeys law may have the glory and isolation of the anarchist. So that each man fighting for order may be as brave and good a man as the dynamiter. So that the real lie of Satan may be flung back in the face of this blasphemer, so that by tears and torture we may earn the right to say to this man, 'You lie!' No agonies can be too great to buy the right to say to this accuser, 'We also have suffered.' 

"It is not true that we have never been broken. We have been broken upon the wheel. It is not true that we have never descended from these thrones. We have descended into hell. We were complaining of unforgettable miseries even at the very moment when this man entered insolently to accuse us of happiness. I repel the slander; we have not been happy. I can answer for every one of the great guards of Law whom he has accused."

I can't speak for what the situation in England was in 1908, but today I frequently hear that religion is a source of strength and comfort.  "Religion is the opiate of the masses" and all that.  I suppose that what people mean is that people with faith believe that their fortunes will be improved, if not in this life, then in the next.  They may be sleeping in the gutter in this world, but in the next, they will be kings.  They may suffer torments from their betters in this world, but their tormentors will be their servants in the next.

Was that ever true?  Perhaps in different times and places, but surely not in general.  Faith has either been the mainstream position, in which case it would not soothe and comfort because your tormentor would likely profess the same religion, or it has been a hunted minority.  Can anyone say that Christianity is a comforting religion today?  Dr. Robert George dismissed that notion a few years ago.

Syme's comment is instructive:  ...Why does a dandelion have to fight the whole universe? For the same reason that I had to be alone in the dreadful Council of the Days. So that each thing that obeys law may have the glory and isolation of the anarchist. So that each man fighting for order may be as brave and good a man as the dynamiter.   This struggle was discussed at length in Chesterton's great apologetic Orthodoxy.  In that book he describes a conservative as a radical, always fighting the forces of entropy and decay around you.  "If you want a white post, you have to keep painting it or else you'll end up with a black post."  Fighting for order is every bit as desperate and romantic as fighting a dragon or fighting against injustice.  But it's so prosaic that no one notices.  The shopkeeper sweeping leaves out of his doorway is every bit as daring as the soldier fighting insurgents in Iraq.  But no one will write books or movies about the shopkeeper.

Keeping the faith in the midst of confusion is a bold proposition.  It's not for the faint of heart.  Today a great sifting is going on. We don't have to worry about being beheaded by Islamic radicals and we're not in imminent danger of imprisonment.  But even with that it's not for the faint of heart and it's not for those seeking comfort.  The Benedict Option is often touted as a way of preserving culture, even to the point of believers moving closer to their parishes so that the physical neighborhood would be a place of security and comfort.  But that's not the experience of many.  If you don't kowtow to the mainstream culture, you'll suffer for it.  And if you seek membership in the Church, it's likely that you'll suffer more because you're a bigger target.

However, if you're looking for a fight, if you're looking to engage the enemy and risk your life for your values, it may be just the place you're looking for.  "Culture Warrior" is not the prestigious title it was during Benedict XVI's reign, but that doesn't make them less necessary.  And I feel that's the direction things are going whether Rome likes it or not.  We'll either face our enemies on our feet or on our knees.

A final point before I put Thursday down for another year.  I want to comment on this line:  "I do not curse you for being cruel. I do not curse you (though I might) for being kind. I curse you for being safe!"  This is echoed in a scene from earlier in the book, and portrayed in the YouTube video I posted earlier:  "You policemen are cruel to the poor, but I could forgive you even your cruelty if it were not for your calm."  This runs through the book and it seems to be an inversion of the classic English stereotype of "keeping a stiff upper lip".  Chesterton wrote about it in earlier books, that the great heroes of English history were men of valor and emotion but by the time of Chesterton the English had been drained of emotion, and least in public comportment.  Emotional outbursts were the domain of hot-headed Frenchmen and Italians.  Even English women were advised to pull themselves together in the face of death.  The characters in Thursday find the lack of emotion infuriating.  They fear people that possess a bland expression more than the evil acts that person commits.

And yet the characters themselves are as stoic as them come.  Gregory, the villain in the book, is almost a Bond-villain: treating Syme to a good meal and pleasant conversation as a prelude to a dangerous introduction to the anarchist council.  (I'm going to kill you, but that doesn't mean we can't be civil).  I don't know if Thursday originated that trope, but it's the oldest book I've read that contains the Bond-villain motif.

Poverty, Inc

A new film from The Acton Institute.  It's available online.

Some background videos are
Andrew Mwenda at TED 2007

George Ayittey at TED 2007

Herman Chinery-Hesse

The speakers above advocate local solutions to the local problems in Africa.  Most of those local solutions involve "capitalism": jobs, entrepeneurship and free trade.  The current aid system is run by people who are successful capitalists, but who are suspicious of capitalism.   Let's be honest: the rat race sucks and a different system would be nice.  The rich donors seemingly wish to use their aid as a test bed for a post-capitalist system. Not quite socialism, but not quite capitalism either.  Crony capitalism, perhaps.

The film itself makes a case against paternalism: a feeling that rich countries and donors know better than poor countries.  This ties in with the skepticism about capitalism.  There's always risk in capitalism. People will get rich, but other people will go broke.  The rich donors don't want risk: they want everyone to succeed.  That's an odd position for successful people to take.  Why is bland subsistence with no chance for success acceptable for Africans and Haitians but not for Bono and Bill Gates?

Archbishop Chaput at BYU

Good stuff

America thrives on diversity. It needs immigration to constantly renew itself. So demographic change is a very good thing—so long as some mechanism exists in society to weave people together into a nation with common ideals; ideals that are organic to our past and higher than our personal appetites. America is an idea. And the idea needs to have a moral substance greater than “every man for himself” or “do whatever you want, as long as it doesn’t hurt somebody else.” That’s a hunting license, not a national purpose.

http://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2016/03/awakenings

More from Man Who Was Thursday

The Man Who Was Thursday was written in 1908, at the tail end of the period of the Anarchist movement.  The history of the Anarchists is complex and probably beyond my ability to summarize.  They descended from Marxism and sought to destroy the ruling class mostly through violent outrages.  They bear at least a superficial resemblance to the terrorists that plague the world today, at least in their methods.

The Man Who Was Thursday was nominally about the struggle against Anarchists.  And this scene from early in the book pretty much summarizes the philosophical motivation for the anarchists.  After today's attacks in Brussels, it's probably worth a look,

For more about the link between the old anarchists and modern terrorists, here's a 2005 article from The Economist.

http://www.economist.com/node/4292760

In defense of order

It's that time of year again.  Once a year I get the urge to read GK Chesterton's haunting epic The Man Who Was Thursday (the annotated version linked is highly recommended).  Thursday is enigmatic, humorous, frustrating and fascinating.  It is a lot like life.  Early in the book we have a dialog between an anarchist poet (Gregory) and "a poet of law, a poet of order" (Syme).

"An artist is identical with an anarchist," [Gregory] cried. "You might transpose the words anywhere. An anarchist is an artist. The man who throws a bomb is an artist, because he prefers a great moment to everything. He sees how much more valuable is one burst of blazing light, one peal of perfect thunder, than the mere common bodies of a few shapeless policemen. An artist disregards all governments, abolishes all conventions. The poet delights in disorder only. If it were not so, the most poetical thing in the world would be the Underground Railway." 

"So it is," said Mr. Syme. 

"Nonsense!" said Gregory, who was very rational when anyone else attempted paradox. "Why do all the clerks and navvies in the railway trains look so sad and tired, so very sad and tired? I will tell you. It is because they know that the train is going right. It is because they know that whatever place they have taken a ticket for that place they will reach. It is because after they have passed Sloane Square they know that the next station must be Victoria, and nothing but Victoria. Oh, their wild rapture! oh, their eyes like stars and their souls again in Eden, if the next station were unaccountably Baker Street!" 

"It is you who are unpoetical," replied the poet Syme. "If what you say of clerks is true, they can only be as prosaic as your poetry. The rare, strange thing is to hit the mark; the gross, obvious thing is to miss it. We feel it is epical when man with one wild arrow strikes a distant bird. Is it not also epical when man with one wild engine strikes a distant station? Chaos is dull; because in chaos the train might indeed go anywhere, to Baker Street or to Bagdad. But man is a magician, and his whole magic is in this, that he does say Victoria, and lo! it is Victoria. No, take your books of mere poetry and prose; let me read a time table, with tears of pride. Take your Byron, who commemorates the defeats of man; give me Bradshaw, who commemorates his victories. Give me Bradshaw, I say!" 

"Must you go?" inquired Gregory sarcastically. 

"I tell you," went on Syme with passion, "that every time a train comes in I feel that it has broken past batteries of besiegers, and that man has won a battle against chaos. You say contemptuously that when one has left Sloane Square one must come to Victoria. I say that one might do a thousand things instead, and that whenever I really come there I have the sense of hairbreadth escape. And when I hear the guard shout out the word 'Victoria,' it is not an unmeaning word. It is to me the cry of a herald announcing conquest. It is to me indeed 'Victoria'; it is the victory of Adam." 

Gregory wagged his heavy, red head with a slow and sad smile. 

"And even then," he said, "we poets always ask the question, 'And what is Victoria now that you have got there?' You think Victoria is like the New Jerusalem. We know that the New Jerusalem will only be like Victoria. Yes, the poet will be discontented even in the streets of heaven. The poet is always in revolt." 

"There again," said Syme irritably, "what is there poetical about being in revolt? You might as well say that it is poetical to be sea-sick. Being sick is a revolt. Both being sick and being rebellious may be the wholesome thing on certain desperate occasions; but I'm hanged if I can see why they are poetical. Revolt in the abstract is—revolting. It's mere vomiting."

I'm an engineer and I work in a technology company.  My company touts innovation and creativity.  Indeed, I have recently entered a contest for best innovation.  We have had talks about the power of innovation and we all nod our heads sagely and admit that creativity is the key to success.

Yet, there is a value in plain-old, humdrum order.  Imagine if every electrical outlet in your house was a different style, and the new widget you just brought home from the store had yet some other arrangement of prongs.  Imagine, indeed, if the stores didn't agree on what kind of money they'd take.  A store might take cash, credit, Apple Pay, Android Pay or Paypal, but all those transactions will be done in US currency (if the store is in the US).  Imagine if the plumbing fixtures didn't come in standard sizes, or if some cars had brake pedals on the right and some had the brakes on the left.

Innovation is wonderful.  We all benefit from new ideas and better products and more convenience, though a lot of the convenience brought about by technology comes from alleviating inconvenience from an earlier generation of technology.  But innovation is built upon a framework of agreed-upon standards.   Apple disrupted the cell-phone industry with the iPhone, but you can still call and text Samsung phones from an iPhone.  Without the standards you just have chaos.

Indeed, one of the marks of successful innovation is that it becomes the standard.  Check out the history of railroad gauges, for instance.  Chrysler was an early adopter of airbags and now you can't get a car without them.  

This is a different kind of post for me.  It's irrelevant to most of what I put here.  Actually, the quote above from Thursday is mostly irrelevant to the rest of the book.  I could make a God connection somewhere -- that God uses the ordinary world and the people in it as His "framework" to innovate on -- but I don't know if I can make that point without sounding stupid.

But mainly I just wanted to plug Chesterton, and that's always a good thing to do.

And I haven't even read the last one yet...

The post synodal exhortation is expected this month.  It's supposed to be signed on St Joseph's day (patron of families).  I don't know what that means as far as translation and distribution.  I haven't even read Laudato Si yet (I don't even know why there's always an apostrophe on Si' ).

Here's some advice while we wait.

... one of the things unofficially abolished by Vatican II was the art of brevity. 

Indeed.

Intro to Catholic Social Teaching

March 6, 2016 talk on Social Teaching or Social Justice

Text

Presentation

The full talk by Father Robert Sirico is on YouTube.

I put people to sleep! Probably talked too long and the room was a little warm.

I'll have to make it a little snappier next time.