Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Found While Looking for Something Else

"The New Lord Abbot receives the Abbatial Blessing at Mount Melleray" says the title of this silent video:

We don't actually get to see an abbatial blessing. What it is, is about two minutes worth of procession into the monastic chapel by assorted clerics and religious: lots of lace-on-cottas, old religious habits (I noted after a couple of run-throughs Franciscans, Dominicans, one each Redemptorist, Passionist, and Discalced Carmelite, and perhaps a couple of Augustinians).   There are a few clerics wearing what look like papal mozettas  --  I suspect they're canons of the local diocese.  A pair of cappae magnae bring up the rear.

It's a delight to see in the beginning and in the end kind of sad and nostalgic, remembering the stark-white polyester nightgowns that make up clerical processions in the 21st century.  (They seem to be called "cassockalbs", God help us.)


Sunday, April 20, 2014

Mass of Easter Day

 photo 0e222e2b-0b17-407a-9ad4-5e61fe64f1d9_zps36178787.jpg
Easter at Bl John Henry Newman Catholic Church of the Ordinariate of the Chair of St Peter.

Yes,  yes, of course there was a congregation. It's just that no one sat in the front row.

And it was a beautiful Easter Mass.  It seems to me our little chapel should be filled (even the front row) and all of Orange County clamouring to get in.  But they weren't.  Hmm.  Another of the increasing number of things in life I don't understand.

But as for me:

 "I was glad when they said unto me: We will go into the house of the Lord."


One Ha'penny . . .

. . . two ha'penny, hot cross buns.

In the dear, dead days of my youth we used to buy them - or occasionally make them -- on Good Friday and eat them on Easter Sunday.  Officially.  One,  of course,  might turn up as part of the "single normal sized meal" allowed on Good Friday.  Or one might comprise the breakfast on Holy Saturday.  But officially they were a treat for Easter Sunday no matter what others might do.

Chambers' wonderfully eclectic and occasionally accurate Book of Days has something to say about hot cross buns:

A superstition regarding bread baked on Good Friday appears to have existed from an early period. Bread so baked was kept by a family all through the ensuing year, under a belief that a few gratings of it in water would prove a specific for any ailment, but particularly for diarrhea. We see a memorial of this ancient superstition in the use of what are called hot cross-buns, which may now be said to be the most prominent popular observance connected with the day. 
In London, and all over England (not, however, in Scotland), the morning of Good Friday is ushered in with a universal cry of Hot Cross-Buns! A parcel of them appears on every break-fast table. It is a rather small bun, more than usually spiced, and having its brown sugary surface marked with a cross. Thousands of poor children and old frail people take up for this day the business of disseminating these quasi-religious cakes, only intermitting the duty during church hours; and if the eagerness with which young and old eat them could be held as expressive of an appropriate sentiment within their hearts, the English might be deemed a pious people. The ear of every person who has ever dwelt in England is familiar with the cry of the street bun-vendors: 
One a penny, buns,
Two a penny, buns,
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot cross-buns! 
Whether it be from failing appetite, the chilling effects of age, or any other fault in ourselves, we cannot say; but it strikes us that neither in the bakers' shops, nor from the baskets of the street-vendors, can one now get hot cross-buns comparable to those of past times. They want the spice, the crispness, the everything they once had. Older people than we speak also with mournful affection of the two noted bun-houses of Chelsea. Nay, they were Royal bun-houses, if their signs could be believed, the popular legend always insinuating that the King himself had stopped there, bought, and eaten of the buns. Early in the present century, families of the middle classes walked a considerable way to taste the delicacies of the Chelsea bun-houses, on the seats beneath the shed which screened the pavement in front. An insane rivalry, of course, existed between the two houses, one pretending to be The Chelsea Bun-house, and the other the Real Old Original Chelsea Bun-house. Heaven knows where the truth lay, but one thing was certain and assured to the innocent public, that the buns of both were so very good that it was utterly impossible to give an exclusive verdict in favour of either.
Things may have gotten even worse since Chambers' day (which according to the imprint was 1867, if you were wondering.)  Look at that picture again.  That's not where the cross goes.  Hmpf.  Although to tell the truth, mine tasted pretty good.

I may have another.


Saturday, April 19, 2014

Good Friday II

Good Friday is also the start of the Divine Mercy Novena.  Leaving Sr Faustina's diary in the middle of the kitchen table makes a pretty good reminder should you be the sort who forgets to begin novenas. Or continue novenas.  At least it's worked so far.  One down, eight to go.

(There's a website on the Divine Mercy devotion here.  A link to the novena text is about 15 or so lines down the table of contents on that page.)


Friday, April 18, 2014

Good Friday

The Rome of a thousand years ago and more as related by the Blessed Cardinal Schuster in his Liber Sacramentorum:

Christ had said, Non capit prophetam perire extra Hierusalem; for this reason the station is held today in the basilica known as Sancta Hierusalem, to which the Pope formerly went barefoot, walking in procession from the Lateran. He swung, as he went, a censer filled with precious perfumes before the wood of the true cross, carried by a deacon, whilst the choir sang Psalm csviii: Beati immaculati in via.
Originally, as a sign of deep mourning, this day was aliturgical, as were usually all the Fridays and Saturdays of the year in Rome. Thus, when towards the sixth century the rigour of the ancient rule was somewhat relaxed and the Friday stations of Lent were instituted, the Popes still continued for many centuries the ancient Roman usage, which excluded even the Mass of the Presanctified on this day. Therefore the present rite does not go back beyond the Middle Ages, and represents the order used in the titular churches in Rome, in which the Pope was never present.
The Adoration of the True Cross on Good Friday was taken, as we have already said, from the Liturgy of Jerusalem, where it was already in use towards the end of the fourth century. Indeed, for a long time, in the West also, this adoration formed almost the most important and characteristic part of the ceremony, the central point, as it were, of the whole Liturgy of the Parasceve. Ecce lignum crucis: this is the beginning of the parousia of the divine judge, and at the sight of the triumphal banner of redemption, whilst the Church prostrates herself low in adoration, the powers of hell flee away terror-stricken into the abyss.
In Rome in the Middle Ages the papal reliquary containing the true cross was sprinkled with perfumes, indicating thereby the sweetness of the grace which flows from the sacred wood, and the inner unction and spiritual balm which the Lord pours into the hearts of those who carry the cross for love of him. 
According to the Ordines Romani of the eighth century, today's ceremony took place partly in the Sessorian Basilica and partly in the Lateran. Towards two o'clock in the afternoon the Pope and palatine clergy moved in procession barefoot from the Lateran to the stational basilica, where the Adoration of the Cross took place, followed by the reading of the Passion according to St John, and the Great Litany for the various ecclesiastical orders and for the necessities of the Church. The procession then returned to the Lateran. Singing as they walked the psalm Beati immaculati in via. On this day of sadness neither the Pope nor the deacons received Holy Communion, but the people were free to do so either at the Lateran, where one of the suburbicarian bishops celebrated, or at any of the titular churches in the city.
Towards the ninth century the rite was somewhat altered. The Adoration of the Cross was deferred until after the Litany, which was followed by the Pater Nostertogether with the Communion of those who were present. The procession of the Blessed Sacrament did not take place at that point, the ceremony ending with the Pope's blessing – “In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti” – to which the assembly replied: “Et cum spiritu tuo”. Everyone then recited privately the Vesper psalms, after which all went off to break their fast.

And if you were wondering, no, I have no idea why the font size changes in the above quote.  It's not that way in the original and it's not that way on the work page.  Blogspot just decided to do it.  Mysterious are the ways of Blogspot, its wonders to perform.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Advice on a Sunday Afternoon

From Professor Wilson, late of the University of South Carolina:

Those who are still addicted to the useless and indeed pernicious vice of following U.S. politics—let me urge you to go into recovery now. The habit of abstinence must be well-established soon  or you will be tempted by the hoopla of the 2016 Presidential sweepstakes. The primaries are only two years away and the uproar will start long before that. Without a determined recovery you will have to endure an endless carnival  of water temperature testing, trial balloon floating, absurd and short-lived ambitions and enthusiasms, and arrant speculation. It will all be pointless and ephemeral and have absolutely no relevance to any genuine process for selecting the next “Leader of the Free World” and Great Decider.

There is no hope  that any statesmanship or even real leadership can emerge from the carnival. The American political system, and alas probably also the American people,  left behind any such possibility long ago. What we will see is a contest of superficial celebrity backed by special-interest pandering that can have no meaning for any serious lover of his country. In case you haven’t noticed, the U.S. is now a glorified banana republic culturally and politically, if not quite yet economically and militarily.

There is more here but you have just read what you need to take away with  you.


Some Piping for the Weekend

Some outstanding uilleann piping this week.  Here Tommy Martin plays a knockout rendition of what The Fox Chase.  Listen for the dogs, the fox, and the hunting horn.  The couple of tunes whose names I knew were The Foxhunt and An Maidrín Rúa. There are more.


Monday, April 07, 2014

Mozilla, etc.

The very best commentary on the Mozilla/Eich kerfuffle can be found here:  The Eich Affair: Why Conservatives are Wrong

That's the first post.  There are two more (so far) following here and here.   They're longish, but well-worth your time.

In summary:  conservatives continue to play by the liberal rules and with liberal principles assumed.  Catholics should do better.


Tuesday, April 01, 2014

A Brief History of April Fool's Day

The "Brief History" itself is here.

You probably know a good deal of it already.  But I did want to post something about the day in order to segue into a warning about Damian Thompson's blogpost on the day.  Really.  Don't go there.  It could cause a seizure.  Particularly if you don't know the meaning of Aprilis Stulte Dies.  Or if, like I did, you sort of breeze by it without paying any attention to the meaning but just sort of getting distracted by the odd grammar.

I'm only calming down now.

Monday, March 31, 2014

First Cousins

Which came first?


or Star of the County Down:

In case you were wondering, they "both" fit the pipe scale rather well.  Actually, it's hard to keep Kingsfold from turning into The Star of the County Down;  all the solemnity fades away at some  point.  And why does nobody ever sing the  most delightful of all the verses:

I'd a heart to let 
and no tenant yet
Did I meet with in shawl or gown,
But in she went 
and I asked no rent
From the Star of the County Down.

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Some Piping for the Weekend

The opening of the Edinburgh Military Tattoo from 2013.

And speaking of "Suppressio Veri" . . .

 . . . this pretty much hits the nail on the head.


Thursday, March 13, 2014

Suppressio Veri, Suggestio Falsi Department (from which title the author wanders at length)

From Fr Z's blog:

I want everyone to know about this.
This was posted at the blog Protect The Pope, which was run by Deacon Nick Donnelly.
Diocese of Lancaster’s statement about Deacon Nick Donnelly
The Bishop’s office of the Diocese of Lancaster has kindly sent Nick the statement they issued to the press about him and Protect the Pope which is copied below.
“After learning that a notice had been placed upon the Protect the Pope website on 7 March saying: ‘Deacon Nick stands down from Protect the Pope for a period of prayer and reflection’ the Bishop’s Office at the Diocese of Lancaster was able to confirm that Bishop Campbell had recently requested Deacon Nick Donnelly to voluntarily pause from placing new posts on the Protect the Pope site.
Meanwhile, it was also confirmed that the Bishop asked Deacon Nick to use this pause to enter into a period of prayer and reflection on the duties involved for ordained bloggers/website administrators to truth, charity and unity in the Church.
Deacon Nick has agreed to the Bishop’s request at this time”.
I, for one, can imagine that a lot of pressure was exerted on the Bishop of Lancaster to have gone to such an extreme as to command a cleric under his charge not to think aloud in public.
I see now, however, that “M Donnelly” is posting at the blog. I take it that this is Missus Deacon. Good for her.

Boy, howdy.  The Church of Nice gets more open and inclusive by the minute.

But The Inn should still be safe.  Relatively safe.  We are, after all, not a cleric and very unlikely to be on any episcopal radar screens.  And, of course,  nobody else in or out of holy orders knows The Inn is here anyway.  That might be remedied if I ever got round to posting something on any sort of regular basis.  But I haven't, so it hasn't been, and so most of the traffic comes from occasional visitors who googled drawings from old missals or biographies of saints posted in 2005.

 I suppose if I actually wrote as obstreperously as I think, perhaps I would annoy  more people.  And at one time I probably did.  When The Inn first showed up, weblogs with a Catholic point of view were still pretty thin on the ground.  And ones with a traditional focus even more so.  But that was a dozen years ago.  There's a lot more out there now and weblogs are doing a lot more things than I ever could and doing it a lot better than I could ever attempt.  When you have blogs like Rorate Cæli, Creative Minority Report, and Orwell's Picnic  (to name just my favourites) you don't really need The Inn to chime in on a regular basis to say "Me, too!"  Oh, and The Remnant has been expanding its web presence making it a regular stop.

And so you get a lot of piping and some Scottish dancing.  And tea.  And . . . hmmm . . .where was I?  Oh, yes.  Deacon Nick's blog was suppressed  the other day by his bishop.  (Yeah, yeah, I know: he abstained for a period of reflection.  Right.)  Read the rest at Fr Z's site, which also links to Deacon Nick's site.

(Some day I'm going to wander so far off the topic I'll never find my way back.  Contrary to all appearances my muse is not Laurence Sterne and The Inn is not a sort of updated Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy.)

Found While Looking for Something Else

The medieval shrine of Our Lady of Caversham:  ever hear of it?

Me neither. 

But it existed up until Henry VIII, who had no Cardinal Kasper to console him in his marital difficulties, and so took alternate measures resulting in the shrine's destruction and his majesty's enrichment.

And now it exists again.  You can read the story here.  I found the first reference to it here.  So if you're in the neighbourhood, i.e., England, you can attend a Latin Mass Society pilgrimage this Saturday.

I, alas, am an ocean and a continent away.


Friday the 13th . . .

. . . comes on a Thursday this month.

All the usual precautions remain in force.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Swiped, uh, I mean Quoted from CMReport's Twitter Feed

It is clear to  me that the world has collectively decided that hand-baskets are too slow a method of travel.


(There's a website, too.  It's here.  But I don't know how to link to a Twitter feed.  If you're good at rummaging around the web you can probably find it.  Otherwise, you'll just have to trust me.)


Tuesday, March 11, 2014

On Silence in the Liturgy

You may have seen this already on Rorate Cæli.  If not, here it is again.  The talk is based upon one of a series  of position papers on the traditional Roman Rite that the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales has put together.  Click the link above which will take you to the - practically indispensable these days - Rorate Cæli site which has all the appropriate links for the Latin Mass Society and the original position papers.

Friday, February 21, 2014

As if worrying about reeds wasn't enough . . .

I was handed this little piece of business yesterday when driving into the local cemetery where  I play pipes on occasion.  It seems there was a coyote loitering on the premises a few weeks ago who tried to drag a visiting 3 or 4 year old into the nearby brush for an early lunch. (Or  was it a cougar?  The memory fades.  I suppose if you really want to know you could look it up.  Google knows everything, so they say.)  The mother was nearby and apparently gave the critter a good bash with a handbag or something and rescued the child.  But we have now all been duly warned.  I was used to the warnings on the signs about locking the car doors and not leaving valuables in plain sight.  I suppose there's  nothing for it now but to sharpen up the sgian dubh and try not to forget it when next I'm called for a funeral.

Now that I think about it there's a cemetery out in the valley -- the one where both Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are buried --  that has signs  posted at regular intervals informing visitors that it is "rattlesnake season" and to be careful where you tread.  (I'm not actually certain what season rattlesnake season is since the signs seem to be permanent.)  I don't think I ever take my eyes off the ground when I play there.

Some Piping for the Weekend . . .

Fin Moore and Andrea Beaton on border pipes and fiddle.


Monday, February 17, 2014

17 February -- St Finan of Lindisfarne: Traditionalist

From Mrs D'Arcy's The Saints of Ireland:

Finan succeeded Aidan at Lindisfarne, the Irish mission based on the northeast coat of England.  Seventeen years earlier the Anglo-Saxon King Oswald had requested Irish missionaries from  Iona to teach Christianity to his people and Aidan had gathered all of Northumbria to the faith.  Beginning in 651, Bishop Finan carried forward into the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms.  The English historian Bede tells that the people flocked joyfully to hear the Word, that "the English great and small were by their Irish masters instructed in the rules and observances of regular discipline."

There are a few paragraphs on St Finan on the Catholic Online website here.  Even though he was principally responsible for the conversion of the English midlands, he is probably best known for his stance in the controversy over the dating of Easter and other practices of the Irish church.  Finan held fast to his tradition, learnt from St Colmcille.  In the words of Mrs D'Arcy:

And although an Irish priest, Ronan, is on record as having tried strenuously to persuade Finan to change over to the universal date, even as the rest of Ireland had done, nothing could move Finan from the traditions of Colmcille.  Commendable in every way, blameful in none, Finan died as he had lived, true in every smallest way to the traditions of Iona and the holy men from whom he proceeded.  Aidan's regime won all of Northumbria. Under Finan, Celtic jurisdiction reached the Thames and the diocese of London where the Canterbury mission had failed.


An Unsolicited. . . .

. . . and, alas, uncompensated endorsement.

I.e., this stuff:

A decaffeinated tea that's actually worth drinking.  This is the only  decaf tea I've ever tried that wasn't equivalent to hot, coloured water.  Even the Irish, who have wonderful, strong blends of tea, can't do decaf.  But Typhoo decaf really is worth buying.  It tastes like tea.  Good tea.


Sunday, February 16, 2014


It's Septuagesima Sunday and Lent is just around the corner.  The Roman Rite and the Ordinariate liturgies do Septuagesima but the poor old Pauline Rite is still wandering about in Common or Garden Variety Time.

We went on at length a few years ago about Septuagesima and the liturgical farewell to Alleluia.  You can find it here.  (Judging from the introduction, Epiphanytide must have been rather short in 2005.)

Friday, February 14, 2014

Another of the Mysteries of Life

At least in the English-speaking part of what's left of western civilization, there are two saints left in the popular imagination whose days are acknowledged: St Valentine and St Patrick.  So  for reasons known only to himself and God, Bugs and company demoted St Valentine and erased his feast day from their brand new liturgy.

But St Valentine is still around and his relics and shrine are in Whitefriar Street Church in Dublin should you choose to make a visit.  You can read a bit about it here and here.  You can even attend a Mass celebrated in his honour today,  should you be among the fortunate few near a church which still celebrates in the traditional Roman Rite on a weekday.


Thursday, February 13, 2014

Bl Archangela Girlani, O. Carm.

It is her feast day again in the old Discalced Carmelite calendar.

A few years ago we put down all we know about her here.  And we can add a collect now:

O God, who hast specially favoured the virgin, blessed Archangela, from her youth in preparation for thy gift of heroic virtue: grant through her intercession, that having been protected by the gift of thy grace upon earth we  may deserve  to join the choirs of the blessed in heaven: through Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Careful: Friday the 13th . . .

 . . . comes on a Thursday this  month, even today. 

I haven't walked under any black cats so it's been a fairly lucky day.  Amazon decided to deliver  my copy of "Finding Your Irish Ancestors in New York City" about a week early and I have been duly pouring over it. I've been trying for a good long time to find exactly where in Ireland great grandfather Thomas Cahill comes from. It would be a lot more helpful if I actually lived in New York but even so there are some very good leads for those of us on the other side of the continent. 

A hunting we will go.


Monday, February 10, 2014

Alert from the Jean Arthur TV Movie Alert Service

TODAY MONDAY 10 FEB 2014 1:00 p.m. on TCM: "Mr Deeds Goes to Town".

. . . . . . . . .

The Jean Arthur TV Movie Alert Service is kind of ashamed of itself these days. It has allowed several Jean Arthur movies to go unremarked here in the past few months, including two or three showings of "The More the Merrier" in just the past few weeks.  Why, this isn't even the first showing of Mr Deeds this month.  The Jean Arthur TV Movie Alert Service could kick itself.  A fine way to treat the finest comic actress America ever produced.

Saturday, February 01, 2014

February 1 -- St Brigid of Kildare

Today is the feast of St Brigid of Kildare, the co-patron of Ireland and the first Irish nun.  Mrs Vidal has summary of her life here.  Wikipedia tells her story at some length here.

Chambers Book of Days in its usual chatty, gossipy, and occasionally accurate way has this verbal detour which St Brigid's name seems to have taken in England:

For some cause or other Bridget was a popular saint in England and Scotland, where she was better known by the corrupted or abbreviated name of St. Bride, and under this name a number of churches were dedicated to her. We need only mention St. Bride's Church in Fleet-street, London.

Adjoining to St. Bride's Churchyard, Fleet-street, is an ancient well dedicated to the saint, and commonly called Bride's Well. A palace erected near by took the name of Bridewell. This being given by Edward VI to the city of London as a workhouse for the poor and a house of correction, the name became associated in the popular mind with houses having the same purpose in view. Hence it has arisen that the pure and innocent Bridget—the first of Irish nuns—is now inextricably connected in our ordinary national parlance with a class of beings of the most opposite description.

Bride a "corruption or abbreviation".  Hmmm.  Perhaps instead a more accurate approximation to the original Irish of her name than Brigid?

(Aaaand it's my grandmother's birthday.  If she were alive she would be . . .  135 years old.  May she rest  in peace.)


Friday, January 31, 2014

31 January - the death of Charles III

On this day in 1788, Charles Edward Stuart, by right of birth king of Great Britain, France, and Ireland died in exile in Rome.  He was succeeded by his brother, the Cardinal Duke of York, who became Henry IX.


Thursday, January 30, 2014

30 January -- The Judicial Murder of King Charles I

A year of years ago (that's 365) on this day King Charles I was executed at the behest of the dictator Cromwell.

On the morning of 30th January, 1649 Charles awoke early and told his attendant Thomas Herbert, “this is my second marriage day… for before night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus.” The winter weather was so severe that the Thames had frozen over. The King was concerned that the cold would make him shiver giving the appearance of shaking with fear, so he asked as he was dressed to be provided with an extra shirt for warmth (one of these shirts is kept at Windsor Castle and the other at the Museum of London).
 More here.

"On this day we must remember to pray for all rulers, especially those divinely ordained to rule, that they may come closer to Christ and his Church."
-Fr. B. 


Wednesday, January 29, 2014

On Having a Side

I've complained before about not having a side.  I miss having a side.  You know, a "side".  As in "Hooray for our side!"  In politics I just don't have a side any more.  When I was a boy I had a side and politics was loads more fun.  Now, it's just Hudge and Gudge, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and . . . who were the two candidates in Pickwick?  I've drawn a blank.  If I remember before I post this, I'll look it up and fill in their names.  If you're actually reading this bit of text, you'll know that the memory remains as fallible as ever.  In any event, I suppose it was always just Hudge and Gudge but I was having too much fun to notice.

In any event, this week's The Wanderer in the "From the Mail" column has a nice piece pointing out why I don't have a side:

An update on the dialectic: The January 16 edition of FTM featured the wisdom of the late Brent Bozell, founding editor of Triumph, on how a truly Christian politics is outside — cannot be part of — the liberal dialectic, that narrow little cell which holds what is acceptable or not to our Republican/ Democrat duopoly.

That same subject was also discussed in a commentary, “ Transcending the Dialectic,” by the late philosopher Frederick Wilhelmsen of the University of Dallas.

“ Close readers of this magazine will have discovered the difficulties of trying to locate the authentic teaching of the Catholic Church in the conventional slots of left, right, and center. The orthodox view of religious authority seems ‘ rightist’; the orthodox limitations on war- making seem to have ‘ leftist’ consequences. The orthodox approach to culture often looks quite ‘ conservative’; the approach to economics and government alarmingly ‘liberal.’ “In politics the orthodox Catholic appears to be a romantic traditionalist one moment and an anarchist the next. Nor is anything more futile than to try to place orthodoxy ‘ in the middle of the road.’ Orthodox Catholics, plainly, don’t fit
anywhere in the philosophical and political dialectic that governs the dying secular order — which is an enormous advantage, of course, since there is no room for them in the conventional coffins in which history is burying the order. . . .

“[ T] he whole meaning of orthodoxy, in the context of the modern world, is that Christianity is
outside the dialectic. . . . The whole political vocation of Christians is consciously and purposively to transcend the dialectic.”


Sunday, January 26, 2014

Some Piping for the Weekend. . .

. . . or the tail end of it anyway.

That's Kitty Hayes on concertina and Peter Laban on the union pipes playing The Fair Young Canavans and Hardiman the Fiddler.


Wednesday, January 15, 2014

For in my Faith and Loyalty / I never once shall faulter . . . except the Times shou'd alter.

We learn from Rorate Cæli this morning that the times have indeed altered.  It's not so sunny in Boston any more if one happens to be a traditionalist.  There was this a couple of years ago.  And now there's this.

Rorate Cæli has more here, along with details of Cardinal O'Malley's Methodist baptismal reaffirmation . . . whatever the &%! that is.


That Wasn't Supposed to Happen

But apparently it did.  According to this piece, "Walmart's health plan is better than Obamacare".


"Ah, it's only a wee, humble cottage. . ."

For those with happy memories of "The Quiet Man", this Facebook site may be of interest.  And for those with no use for Facebook, and there seem to be a few, it links and refers people to this site which would like to preserve - and rehabilitate, no doubt - the White 'o Morn cottage that is so prominent in the film.

Friday, January 03, 2014

I Can Think of Worse Places to Celebrate Mass. . . .

. . . .and I can think of better ones, too.  The picture was in this morning's Wall Street Journal.

(And, no, I have no idea how or if this relates to Evangelii Gaudium.)

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

1 January 2014

There's a hogmanay dance on this evening, which I am not at.  The Memsahib doesn't want to go.  She has allowed as how I might go on my own,  but I think the reasonable and prudent man would not take advantage of that permission on new year's eve.   Just as well, actually.  The back and the sciatica have been making nuisances of themselves today.  I doubt the three-beat pas de basque would've done them any good.

A happy new year to all this year's visitors to The Inn.

King Charles III

It's the 293d birthday of Charles Edward Louis John Philip Casimir Sylvester Severino Maria Stuart, a.k.a. Bonnie Prince Charlie, and by right-of-birth, King Charles III of Great Britain, France, and Ireland.

A short re-telling of his unfortunate life can be found here.


Monday, December 30, 2013

Found While Looking for Something Else

Those who live in Dublin and love the traditional Roman Rite have their very own parish providing Sunday and daily Masses in the old Rite.  I've known that since it was established a few years ago, although I've never been there.  (That happens when you're visiting and have to fit in with other people's schedules.)  But I only found this evening that the Latin Mass Chaplaincy, as it it's known, has its own website.  You can find it here.

What a beautiful church they've been given.  It's worth clicking the link just to see the pictures.  (Especially if you live in California where most of the modern ecclesiastical architecture has been inspired by the shoe box.)


Sunday, December 29, 2013

December 29 -- St Thomas Becket, Archbishop and Martyr

Ant. This is a  Saint who strove for the truth even unto death, and feared not the words of sinful men, forasmuch as he was founded on a sure foundation, even upon the rock of his Master's precepts.

V. Thou has crowned him with glory and worship, O Lord.
R. And hast made him to have dominion of the works of thy hands.

O God, who for thy Church's sake didst suffer thy Bishop Saint Thomas gloriously to be slain by the swords of wicked men : grant, we beseech thee; that all they who call upon him for succour may be profited by the obtaining of all that they desire.  Through Christ our Lord.  Amen.

An eyewitness account of his martyrdom can be found here.


Saturday, December 28, 2013

Some Piping for the Weekend. . .

Fin Moore, Gary West, and Hamish Moore play a set on Scottish smallpipes at the Flowers of Edinburgh concert last May.  When it begins they're already into "Go to Berwick, Johnny" and then break into "Blue Bonnets".  Don't remember the name of the last one.


Friday, December 27, 2013

Christmas on Royal Deeside

Deeside it may be, but there's no piping in the video above.  It's about 4 minutes worth of lovely countryside covered in ice and snow.

Now there's a fairly good chance that you, being able to look out your front window and see your fill of ice and snow, are  not in the least interested in this.  I am sorry.  Really.  But it was in the mid 80's here today, the 27th of December.  And sitting here in cotton dockers and a polo shirt with the ceiling fan going, I found it a delight.


St John's Day

Today is the feast of St John the Apostle and Evangelist.  Yes, the source is the Gospels, but the good old Catholic Encyclopædia will tell you something of St John in more condensed form here.

The Inn has copied this paragraph about St John's wine from the late Msgr Richard Schuler before.  And we do it again now:

St John the Evangelist was honored on December 27. His feast was a general holiday, being kept as the third day of Christmas. Special wine, called St John's Love, was blessed on St John's Day, the formula for the blessing being found in the Rituale Romanum. It was thought that St John had survived the drinking of poisoned wine. Those going on a long journey fortified themselves from harm by drinking St John's wine, and at weddings it was regularly drunk. Often those about to depart this life were given a sip to strengthen them for their departure from this world. In St John's Gospel, Christ is called the Light of the World, and so when lighting the Christmas tree, a child with the name of John is often given the privilege of lighting the tree.

That's from an old number - about 10 years ago - of The Wanderer.  The original link no longer links to the original story and I'm not finding it in the archive (which you'd probably have to subscribe to anyway).  But if you want to have a go  yourself you can start here.

Here's "The Blessing of Wine on the Feast of St John, Apostle and Evangelist" from the old Roman Ritual:

After the principal Mass on the feast of St John, Apostle and Evangelist, after the last gospel, the priest, retaining all vestments except the maniple, blesses wine brought by the people.  This is done in  memory and honor of St John, who without detriment drank the poisoned wine proffered by  his enemies:

V. Our help is in the name of the Lord.
R. Who made both heaven and earth.
V. The Lord be with you.
R.  And with thy spirit.

     Let us pray.

Bless + and consecrate, + O Lord God, this chalice of wine (or any other beverage - et cujuslibet potus)through the merits of St John, Apostle and Evangelist.  Bestow benediction and protection upon all who drink of this cup.  For as the blessed John partook of the poisoned potion without any hurt, so may all who on this day drink of the blessed wine to the honor of St John, by him be freed from poisoning and similar harmful things.  And as they offer themselves soul and body to thee, O Lord God, give them absolution and pardon.  Through Christ our Lord.  R. Amen.

Bless, + O Lord, this draught that it be a helpful medicine to all who drink it; and grant by thy grace that all who taste thereof  may enjoy bodily and spiritual health in calling upon they holy name.  Through Christ our Lord,  R.  Amen.

May the blessing of almighty God, Father, Son, + and Holy Ghost come upon this wine and remain constantly.  R.  Amen.

There are actually two blessings for St John's wine in the Ritual.  The second one is perhaps twice as long so we'll leave that one for next year, along with the Latin text which I'm running out of time to proof at the moment. (And, yes, of course I proof these things.  I even edit them.  Hard to believe I know, but what you see here is, indeed, the improved version.)