Saturday, January 21, 2023

Opera News

 The February number of Opera News came today.  (What?  You thought I was limited to The American  Conservative, The Remnant  and talk radio?  I'm disappointed in you.  The Metropolitan Opera Saturday matinees have been on the radio since, I think, the '40s and on my radio since I was in high school. . . which was, indeed, a very, very long time ago but, ahem, later than the '40s.)

Where was I?   Oh, yes, the Opera News.  The February number came today and there on page 10 was this delightful bit about the late Chief Justice Rehnquist:

Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Antonin Scalia were famous opera fans, but William Rehnquist had his tastes, too.  In 1995, the chief justice added four gold stripes to his robes, which he infamously wore at Bill Clinton's impeachment trial.. "he [was] lampooned by Jay Leno, derided by cartoonists and ridiculed across continents" for them, the Washington Post reported.  He'd added them as "a whimsical emulation of the Lord Chancellor" in Gilbert and Sullivan's Iolanthe.   USA Today explains.  "Asked years later to assess his role during the impeachment trial . . . Rehnquist quoted from that opera: 'I did nothing in particular, and I did it very well.'"


Thursday, January 19, 2023


This is a first:  I've never used the blogger app on my phone before.  Seems to be working.  .  . but there is still the one-finger-typing issue. Hate that. 

Saturday, January 14, 2023

Da nobis, quæsumus Domine, pluviam salutarem . . .

 . . . and He has been.  And is doing so again today.  "Thou, O God, sentest a gracious rain upon thine in heritance, and refreshedst it when it was weary." -Psalm 68, ix

There is supposed to be a video showing the rain off our front  porch right about 


for your information and delectation. But for reasons known only to the Blogspot software, it only shows up on the input page and not on the actual blog.  Not much of a loss to posterity but still annoying to me.

In any event, we are fortunately at the tail end of the various storms that have come through the west coast and haven't had the flooding and isolation that other areas have had.   Just a lovely rainy day here, good for large  pots of tea and biscuits.*


*"biscuits" = "cookies" in this house.  Mary is occasionally annoyed when someone tells her that she's losing her accent.  I usually point out that it isn't lost.  I have it.   Which isn't, strictly speaking, true.  What I have is not so much the accent as the turns of phrase that were common in the Ireland of her youth.  Which is why biscuits and cookies are used interchangeably hereabouts.

Sunday, January 08, 2023

Epiphany Observed at St John Henry Newman


Our chapel this morning, taken after the last Mass.  I'm not entirely comfortable taking pictures during Mass.  Lèse majesté may be a bit strong.  Perhaps just not sufficiently reverent?

Any way, very happy to be back home at St John's this Sunday.

That 2d picture is not our church but it was our recessional this morning.   I love that hymn.

1. As with gladness men of old

Did the guiding star behold,

As with joy they hailed its light,

Leading onward, beaming bright;

So, most gracious Lord, may we

Evermore be led to Thee.

2. As with joyful steps they sped

To that lowly manger bed,

There to bend the knee before

Him whom heaven and earth adore;

So may we, with willing feet,

Ever seek the mercy seat.

3. As they offered gifts most rare

At that manger rude and bare;

So may we with holy joy,

Pure and free from sin’s alloy,

All our costliest treasures bring,

Christ! to Thee, our heavenly King.

4. Holy Jesus! every day

Keep us in the narrow way;

And, when earthly things are past,

Bring our ransomed souls at last

Where they need no star to guide,

Where no clouds Thy glory hide.

5. In the heavenly country bright,

Need they no created light;

Thou its light, its joy, its crown,

Thou its sun which goes not down:

There for ever may we sing

Alleluias to our King.  Amen.

Thursday, December 29, 2022

29 December -- St Thomas Becket


O GOD, for whose Church the glorious Bishop Thomas Becket fell by the swords of wicked men: grant, we beseech thee; that all who call upon him for succour may be profited by the obtaining of all that they desire; through Jesus Christ thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

Fr Z this morning has a very interesting post about the finding of the  prayer book -- psalter, actually -- that St Thomas was holding when he was murdered.  You can find it here.   Clicke, lege as we used to say in the early days of Catholic blogdom.  It's a fascinating read. 

Monday, December 26, 2022

St Stephen's Day a.k.a. Boxing Day

A couple versions of The Wren song, traditional for St Stephen's Day:

 The above not churchy enough for the holy martyr's feast day?  Try here for something perhaps more to your liking.

Some Random Thoughts on the Day after Christmas


Didn't quite make the Anglican Use Mass on Christmas Day.  (Yes, I know I'm not supposed to call it that any more; I fail in that as in other particulars.)  It was earlier than usual and, alas, too many unpleasant infirmities make mornings a difficult proposition.  But I did make the noon-time traditional Roman/Gregorian Mass at St Mary by-the-Sea so all was not lost.

And we had a proper Christmas dinner, prominently featuring turkey which I had never attempted before.  Yes, you read correctly:  I attempted it.  And apparently succeeded.   It was tasty and the both of us are still alive and in good health.  Or at least  no worse off than we were pre-prandial.

As I think I mentioned before in this space, the Christmas pudding was not home-made.  But the store boughten one was quite good.   If you too have lost your pudding pan, the Mileeven product is quite good indeed.  In fact, I had some for breakfast this a.m.  Fried up a slice with the bacon.   Yum.  (And for those who worry about that sort of thing, other than buying their products, no, I have no connection with Mileeven, financial or otherwise.)

The google/blogspot feature that keeps its eye on The Inn and tells me if anyone dropped by, tells me that, indeed, a few do still find their way here.  And to you few is owed my annual apology for not posting  more regularly.  In fact,  last week I did have rather more to say than usual but the time available was nibbled to death by small but time-consuming bits and pieces . . . . provoking most justly thy wrath and  indignation against me?  Well, I hope not.  But in any event . . . as usual . . . I shall try to do better.

The above is this year's Christmas creche.  Yes, it does look remarkably like all the previous year's creches.  It's called tradition, doncha know.   And, as is often the case, in many browsers you can click on the picture and make it far too large.

Sunday, December 18, 2022

Last Year's Poinsettia

 It's not a poinsettia longevity record.  If memory serves 5 years is the record for a Christmas poinsettia here at the ancestral manse.  But this one - the one in the picture - probably looks the healthiest for a one year old.

Thursday, December 15, 2022

Cancel Culture

 It seems cancel culture isn't all that new.  In the martyrology for 15 December we find Genseric of the Vandals having a go at it:

In the same country, [north Africa] the holy bishop Valerian, who, being upwards of eighty years old,  in the persecution of the Vandals, under the Arian King Genseric, was asked to deliver the vessels of the church, and as he constantly refused, an order was issued to drive him all alone out of the city, and all were forbidden to allow him to stay either in their houses or on their land. For a long time he remained lying on the public road, in the open air, and thus, in the confession and defense of the Catholic verity, closed his blessed life.

No doubt if St Valerian  had had a credit card or a web page those would have been done away with also.  So it seems our current masters have a patron non-saint in Genseric.   And how appropriate that he should have been a Vandal, too, a word that has come down to us with all sorts of appropriate linguistic baggage.


Saturday, December 10, 2022

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas . . . .

Boy, howdy, it sure is.  My evening stroll through the neighborhood revealed decorations up or in the process, um,  "everywhere you go."  Yessiree, nothing says "Christmas" like giant, ten-foot tall inflatable cartoon characters.  That's what I always say.

The Third Sunday of Advent, i.e., Gaudete Sunday

 Something from the wonderful Bl Ildephonse Cardinal Schuster, O.S.B. -- first appearing in The Inn 17 years ago and re-posted occasionally thereafter.

Another of the Blessed Cardinal Schuster's historical briefs on the liturgical day. He goes into great detail on this, the third Sunday of Advent, and never explicitly calls it "Gaudete Sunday".

The Third Sunday of Advent
Station at St Peter's

Seeing that in Rome on the fourth Sunday of Advent there was no station – because of the great ordinations of priests and deacons mense decembri which took place on the preceding night – this third station preparatory to Christmas was celebrated at St Peter's, with unwonted splendour of rites and processions, as if it were the mind of the church to introduce us at this moment to the holy joys which belong to the season of our Lord's birth.

This, in fact, is the week of the great scrutinies and of the solemn fasts preceding the ordinations; hence the faithful also on this day assemble at the tomb of the Prince of the Apostles, in order to obtain for themselves his heavenly protection, and to share with the Pastor Ecclesiæ the joy which fills the hearts of the flock at the glad news of the approaching parousia: Prope est jam Dominus. . . .

Formerly the Pope used to repair to the Vatican Basilica at sunset on the Saturday, and, being present at Vespers, intoned the first and last antiphons which were indicated to him by one of the canons. The Ordines Romani tell us that in reward for this service the Pontiff was accustomed to place a gold coin in the mouth of the worthy ecclesiastic.

It was the duty of the Vatican Chapter to provide the Pope and the cardinals with supper and sleeping accommodation for the first part of the night; this latter, however, was not required for long, since the Office of the Vigil began shortly after midnight. The Pope, preceded by acolytes with candles and torches, went first to incense the altars of St Leo I, St Gregory the Great, St Sebastian, St Tiburtius, the Apostles SS Simon and Jude, the Holy Face, the Blessed Virgin and lastly that of St Pastor. This being done, he went down into the crypt of the Confession of St Peter, and after he had offered incense at the tomb of the Apostle the first Offices of the Vigil began. Three psalms and three scriptural lessons were chanted by the clergy, then the primicerius intoned the Te Deum, the Pope recited the collect, and so ended the first part of the night psalmody ad corpus.

The procession then returned to the basilica above in the same order in which it had come down, and after the altar under which the body of St Peter rested had been incensed, began the Office of Matins, properly so called. This pro­ceeded without there being anything special to be noted. The Vatican canons chanted the lessons of the first nocturn; in the second, the first two lections — extracts from the letter of St Leo I to the Patriarch Flavian — fell to the bishops; the third lection and the first of the third nocturn to two of the cardinals; the last but one to the senior canon of the Vatican Chapter; and the last one of all to the Pope. The Office of Dawn followed, in which the Pontiff intoned the antiphon preceding the Canticle of Zachary, and last of all recited the final collect.

The stational Mass for this day, as it immediately precedes the Christmas season, had originally a strikingly festive character. We know that novenas and triduums in preparation for the greater feasts are of later origin, and in the golden age of the Liturgy these weeks before Easter and Christmas, with their vigiliary Masses and stational synaxes at the most famous basilicas of the Eternal City, were intended to prepare the souls of the faithful and to obtain for them from heaven the grace to profit by the various solemnities of the liturgical cycle.

At the Mass the Pope intoned the Angelic Hymn, which was then taken up by all the clergy. After the Collect, the singers, led by the cardinal deacons, the apostolic sub-deacons and the notaries, recited the Acclamations or Laudes, in honour of the Pontiff, the clergy and the Roman people, a custom still observed at the coronation ceremony of the Sovereign Pontiffs. At the termination of the holy sacrifice the deacons replaced the tiara on the head of the Pope, and, having mounted their horses, the whole cavalcade proceeded with all due solemnity to the Lateran, where the banquet took place.

To-day's ceremonial has preserved very little indeed of all this brilliant ritual setting; joy is, indeed, by no means the dominant note of modern society. At the Mass, it is true, the sacred ministers are clothed in rose-coloured vestments in place of the customary ones of violet, and the organ once again fills the aisles with its strains. The divine Office itself has not undergone any change; it preserves intact its primitive spirit of festivity and eagerness aroused by the nearness of the coming of the Saviour.

The Introit is derived from St Paul's Epistle to the Philippians (iv, 4), and is well adapted to the occasion. The Lord is now very close at hand, and at this announcement the heart overflows with joy. Yet this joy is in complete contrast to that to which the world gives itself up, for it is the fruit of that inward peace which the Holy Ghost communicates to the soul when it remains faithful to God's holy will. Such fidelity — the careful fulfilling, that is, of the duties belonging to one's state, is here called by St Paul modestia; the exact measure and form, as it were, of all the virtues. Interior peace might well find an obstacle in the sorrows and anxieties of the outward life; but St Paul would have us banish from our hearts all excessive solicitude, having recourse in humble confidence to God in prayer, and laying all our needs trustingly before him whom he calls the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation. Psalm Ixxxiv, which forms the concluding portion of the Introit, is in a special manner the canticle of the Redemption.

So that's what modestia means: "the careful fulfilling,. . . ,of the duties belonging to one's state". It always seemed somewhat oxymoronic for St Paul to advise us to let our "modesty" be known to all men. "Modesty" then, isn't quite proper for a 21st century translation. I wonder: was it proper for 16th century English? Used "modesty" to be more like Schuster's definition of "modestia"?

Friday, December 09, 2022

It's another one of those days . . . .

One of those days, that is, when something from the morning psalms speaks to the heart, hits all the right notes:

But now,  O Lord,  thou art far off, and puttest us to confusion, * and goest not forth with our armies.  Thou makest us to turn our backs upon our enemies, * so that they which hate us spoil our goods.  Thou lettest us be eaten up like sheep, * and hast scattered us among the heathen. . . . . Up, Lord, why sleepest thou? * awake, and be not absent from us for ever.  Wherefore hidest thou thy face, * and forgettest our misery and trouble?   For our soul is brought low, even unto the dust; * our belly cleaveth unto the ground.  Arise, and help us, * and deliver us, for thy mercy's sake.

The daily Office usually seems to know when I shouldn't have spent so much time with the morning news. 

Tuesday, December 06, 2022

Saint Nicholas Day

 And not for the first time, herewith the collect for St Nicholas, the most succinct and to the point in the calendar:

O God, who didst adorn Thy blessed Bishop Saint Nicholas with power to work many and great miracles: grant, we beseech Thee: that by his prayers and merits, we may be delivered from the fires of Hell.  Through Christ our Lord.  Amen.



And while we're on the subject of collects, two more short prayers  -- O.K., not  exactly collects --  that are increasingly appropriate to the present time, if not the day in particular.  From the Aid to the Church in Need charity, a prayer to our Lady:

Mother, now that the need is at its greatest and the powers of darkness seem to have free rein, we come to you with childlike trust and implore your powerful aid.  We consecrate ourselves to you. Preserve us in the love of your Son, protect us from the evil of this world and lead us safe to the heart of God.  Amen.

And one from the shrine of Our Lady of Victory.  Fortunately, it's expressed in the plural for I have several in mind:

O Victorious Lady!  You who have ever such owerful influence with your Divine Son in conquering the hardest of hearts, intercede for those for whom we pray that their hearts, being softened by the rays of the  Divine Grace, they may return to the unitiy of the true faith.  Through Christ, our Lord.  Amen.  (By the Venerable Nelson Baker.)

Wednesday, November 30, 2022

St Andrew's Day -- 30 November

 The St Andrew's Christmas Novena begins today.

Although it's not to St Andrew and it's not really a novena since it lasts for 25 or 26 days, depending upon whether you continue it on the 25 of December.

It goes like this:

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God! to hear my prayer and grant my desires, through the merits of Our Saviour Jesus Christ, and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.

Say it 15 times a day until Christmas.  But not all at once, so they tell me.  Unless, say, um, you forgot and had to get them all in at 11:50 p.m. some day.  Not that I would forget.  Just a f'rinstance, you understand.  Best practice is 5 in the morning, 5 in the afternoon, and 5 at night as Michael Matt recommends here.

So why St Andrew?  Because it begins today and today is his feast day.

A history of the vigil of his feast.

St Andrew in the east.

Monday, November 21, 2022

Brìghde Chaimbeul live at Cafe OTO

One of the commenters in the Youtube page remarked that everything Brighde Chaimbeul plays is magic.   Yup.  That about says it.

Sunday, November 13, 2022

Friday the 13th . . . .

 . . . . comes on a Sunday this month.

So remember:  don't break any ladders or walk under any black cats.   And whatever you do, don't be superstitious.   It's bad luck to be superstitious.

Next Sunday would have been Stir-Up Sunday if Bishop Bugnini and his merry band of elves hadn't moved the feast of Christ the King from its proper place and pushed the good old Sunday collect off it's Sunday perch.  So you'll get no timely liturgical reminder to start your Christmas puddings as in days of yore.  This blog post will have to do.  Although, The Inn does have the advantage of being a week early so you'll have time to gather all the requisite ingredients.

When I was a boy we used to have Christmas pudding every other year.  There was a proper pudding bowl and a detailed recipe that went with it and only it.  (From my great grandmother, I think.  Alas,  the younger me was more interested in eating the pudding than in recording its history.)  One  year my mother would make the pudding and then mail the bowl back to my aunt in New York who would make the pudding that year for the east coast contingent.  Then she would  mail it back here for the next year.  Somewhere along the line the bowl went missing.  Nothing else like it could be found.   (No google searches in those days.)   The Recipe never quite worked right with anything else.   Thereafter, we made do with store-boughten.  (Yes, it is too a word.  An old one but a good 'un.)

I have been told by people who claimed to know that that story is preposterous.  No pudding could depend upon a particular bowl like that.  To which I respond:  Beats me.  Maybe.  But that's the family story and I'm sticking with it.

Wednesday, November 09, 2022


The above was found on the web this morning -- Dr Turley's morning youtube video as it happens -- and it pretty much sums up what I've been thinking.  (And, as usual, you can click the above and make it legible.)

Although nationwide it's worth remembering that the GOP did in fact have a win.  The hope was for a rout hence the depressed looks.   But a win is better than a loss even if only a narrow win.

And here in the People's Republic of California?

Don't ask.


Tuesday, November 08, 2022

Votin' Day


No doubt you already knew it was election day in these United States.  You could hardly avoid knowing it.

We dutifully participated in  our civic religion and cast our highly futile ballots.  We can vote for a Republican in theory hereabouts.  Alas,  for most local offices in this area the Republicans don't even bother to put up a sacrificial lamb.  The choice here is usually between a left-wing Democrat and an extreme left-wing Democrat.  This year rhere is a Republican congressional candidate on the ballot for a change.  But nothing else locally to bother about..

We read about election fraud elsewhere but it doesn't happen here.   It doesn't have to.  When you've got a lock on the vast majority of the constituency, why bother?  But in the event the Democrats don't have a solid lock in your area and something untoward might be happening, Fr Z has a suggestion here.  It's worth a try.

Otherwise, from the Occasional Prayers section of my office book:

Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom:  Guide and direct, we humbly beseech Thee, the minds of all those who ae called at this time to elect fit persons to serve in the government of this country.  Grant that in the exercise of their choice they may promote Thy glory, and the welfare of our nation and state.  And this we beg for the sake of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.  Amen.

While we're on the topic of respectable voting for responsible people and whatnot, I don't get this one:

I mean isn't the minimum age now, what, around 12? Surely, they can't all be that young.

Monday, September 26, 2022

Hurricanes Ian and Fiona

 Excellent suggestions from Fr Z here and here.

"From lightning and tempest; from earthquake, fire, and flood; from plague, pestilence, and famine,

   Good Lord, deliver us!"   [DW: The Litany]

Friday, September 09, 2022

Elizabeth II: Requiescat in Pace



Thursday, August 18, 2022

Worship the Lord in the Beauty of Holiness

 Lætatus sum in his quæ dicta sunt mihi: In domum Domini ibimus!

Found in this morning's post on Fr Z's site here.

Wednesday, August 17, 2022


All the links in the left-hand column are now live and up-to-date!  Well, up-to-date-ish.   As mentioned therein some of those folks  haven't  posted in a good long time.  Years.  

In any event, they are all now at least live.  And will be for the next -- oh, what do you think?   Hour and a half?  Two hours?   

The Painting the Golden Gate Bridge analogy springs to mind. 

 Good ole changeable internet.

Sunday, August 14, 2022

One whole month since you last posted? Are you dead?

 No.  Not yet.

But I haven't been ignoring The Inn either.  I have been spending a good deal of time cleaning up dead links, dropping links that are woefully  out of date, adding a few new ones, and generally tidying up The Inn's left-hand column.  And, yes, some of those links still up haven't been up-dated in years.  What can I tell you?   Sentimental favourites from folks I'm hoping will start posting again some day.

And I'm not finished anyway; I'm only about half way down the column.  Next up is the "Radio" section.  Maybe tomorrow or the next day.

Thursday, July 14, 2022

14 July

 It is, once again, Bastille Day.  Sounds a tad more romantic than Alcatraz Day or Leavenworth Day, doesn't it?.  It isn't.  

So "as is our custom",  The Inn herewith once again reprints the late and much-missed Jerry Pournelle's annual post on the, ahem, great day:

On July 14, 1789, the Paris mob aided by units of the National Guard stormed the Bastille Fortress which stood in what had been the Royal area of France before the Louvre and Tuilleries took over that function. The Bastille was a bit like the Tower of London, a fortress prison under direct control of the Monarchy. It was used to house unusual prisoners, all aristocrats, in rather comfortable durance. The garrison consisted of soldiers invalided out of service and some older soldiers who didn't want to retire; it was considered an honor to be posted there, and the garrison took turns acting as valets to the aristocratic prisoners kept there by Royal order (not convicted by any court).

On July 14, 1789, the prisoner population consisted of four forgers, three madmen, and another. The forgers were aristocrats and were locked away in the Bastille rather than be sentenced by the regular courts. The madmen were kept in the Bastille in preference to the asylums: they were unmanageable at home, and needed to be locked away. The servants/warders were bribed to treat them well. The Bastille was stormed; the garrison was slaughtered to a man, some being stamped to death; their heads were displayed on pikes; and the prisoners were freed. The forgers vanished into the general population. The madmen were sent to the general madhouse. The last person freed was a young man who had challenged the best swordsman in Paris to a duel, and who had been locked up at his father's insistence lest he be killed. This worthy joined the mob and took on the name of Citizen Egalite. He was active in revolutionary politics until Robespierre had him beheaded in The Terror.

 There probably is a direct link to Dr Pournelle's post  somewhere.  But the one I have doesn't work.   The link to his site, which thanks-be-to-God is still up, is here.   It's worth a visit;  you're guaranteed to learn a lot.

Monday, July 04, 2022

The Glorious Fourth

 Yes, once again it's National Scare the Living Daylights Out of Your Household Pets Day.  Or Evening, I guess.  And the patriotic pyromaniacal brethren are out there doin' it this evening:  bombs, mortars, sky rockets, roman candles, and any other illegal firework you can think of.  For most of these devices are indeed illegal in this city.

The city has extra police on patrol, so they say.  Haven't seen or heard any.  But considering the fines involved -- $2,000 a time-- I expect they're out there.  Somewhere.   Just not here.

Sunday, June 26, 2022

Found While Rummaging Around the Internet

 In the world of typography, a humble horizontal line can mean at least seven different things depending on its length and the context in which it gets used. Generally, the most confusing of these are the hyphen, en dash, and em dash.

The differences can be found -- in great detail -- here.

I didn't know any of these differences even existed.  And it is highly unlikely that I will ever use any of that wonderfully arcane knowledge in practice.  It's still going to be that little dash key tucked away near the top of the keyboard between the zero and the plus sign no matter what the world of typography thinks. Oh, once in a while the minus sign in the number pad when dealing with numbers.  But that's it.

And,  yes, you're right.  Even I found it a bit surprising that I found that interesting.  But I did.

Wednesday, June 22, 2022

Thunder and Lightning

 Not much rain this morning, alas.  Just a thimbleful during a ten minute or so cloud burst.  But plenty of thunder and lightning.

Which certainly made for an interesting June morning.  That's not the sort of thing we get hereabouts of a June morning.  We could've used a lot more of the rain and a bit less of the donner und blitz but I suppose it makes for a little excitement over breakfast.   It even moved me to log on to The Inn.

(Um, donner und blitz is thunder and lightning.  Nothing to do with Santa.)

Saturday, June 18, 2022

On Speaking Too Soon

 "It's been one of those days," said a friend of mine early last week.   "It's Tuesday and it's felt like Thursday all day."

"Ah," sez I.  "You should pray the Daily Office, or at least part of it.  Then you'd always know what day it was."

Right.  And the fates, whom it isn't good to tempt, or the Good Lord, Who doesn't like smug responses, proposed a little humility for me.  And so for the second time this month I have prayed the wrong office. 

Fortunately the Lord is merciful and only I know about it.  Well, and you, of course.  But I can trust you.


Wednesday, June 15, 2022

After an Overdose of Vatican News

Eons ago back in the Jurassic age when I was young, one read the morning papers with breakfast.  In our house that was the L.A. Times until old man Chandler died and his very up-to-date progeny took over.  Then it was the O.C. Register until old man Hoiles died and his progeny sold it to . . . well, I've forgotten and it doesn't matter anyway.  No doubt Wikipedia knows if you're interested.  In any event, both papers are still around - just - and neither one is worth the powder to blow it to hell.

So instead, one fires up the tablet to read one's favourite bloggers, columnists, assorted news sources, and to see how badly the Anaheim Angels did the night before.  And so it happens that one can find out a great deal about PF and assorted goings on in the Vatican if one is not careful.  And I was not careful this morning.   I read Fr Z's piece here.   Which is not a criticism of Fr Z.   He didn't do it; he just reported it.  And gave some excellent commentary.  But it did rather suck the joy out of an otherwise beautiful morning.

Fortunately, Morning Prayer came after breakfast and the psalter, as it so often does, felt my pain, to uses a phrase which I wouldn't otherwise dream of using:

7  Will the Lord absent himself for ever? * and will he be no more intreated?
8  Is his mercy clean gone for ever? * and is his promise come utterly to an end for evermore?
9  Hath God forgotten to be gracious? * and will he shut up his loving-kindness in displeasure?
10  And I said, It is mine own infirmity; * but I will remember the years of the right hand of the Most Highest.
11  I will remember the works of the Lord, * and call to mind thy wonders of old time.
12  I will think also of all thy works, * and my talking shall be of thy doings.

Psalm 77 if you've a mind to look up the rest of it.

Sunday, June 12, 2022

Trinity Sunday

 It's 7:53 p.m PDT on Trinity Sunday. If you haven't performed your Easter Duty yet, you've got 4 hours and 7 minutes left.  

It wasn't so very long ago that the old Athanasian Creed appeared regularly in the liturgy in the office of Prime. On the eve of the late Council it was only recited once, on Trinity Sunday, i.e.., today. Then the post conciliar Liturgia Horarum did away with the office of Prime, so you're unlikely to see the Athanasian Creed unless you go looking for it.  Or unless you're in the Ordinariate, in which case you may have recited it or heard it at Morning Prayer this morning.   

We wouldn't want to put you to all the trouble of looking it up.  So "as is our custom" on Trinity Sunday -- except when I forget, which is lamentably often  --  we give you the Athanasian Creed which gives as neat a summary of the doctrine of the Trinity as you're likely to find:

Whosoever will be saved, before all things it is necessary that he hold the Catholic Faith. Which Faith except everyone do keep whole and undefiled, without doubt he shall perish everlastingly. And the Catholic Faith is this, that we worship one God in Trinity and Trinity in Unity. Neither confounding the Persons, nor dividing the Substance. For there is one Person of the Father, another of the Son, and another of the Holy Ghost. But the Godhead of the Father, of the Son and of the Holy Ghost is all One, the Glory Equal, the Majesty Co-Eternal. Such as the Father is, such is the Son, and such is the Holy Ghost. The Father Uncreate, the Son Uncreate, and the Holy Ghost Uncreate. The Father Incomprehensible, the Son Incomprehensible, and the Holy Ghost Incomprehensible. The Father Eternal, the Son Eternal, and the Holy Ghost Eternal and yet they are not Three Eternals but One Eternal. As also there are not Three Uncreated, nor Three Incomprehensibles, but One Uncreated, and One Uncomprehensible. So likewise the Father is Almighty, the Son Almighty, and the Holy Ghost Almighty. And yet they are not Three Almighties but One Almighty.

So the Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Ghost is God. And yet they are not Three Gods, but One God. So likewise the Father is Lord, the Son Lord, and the Holy Ghost Lord. And yet not Three Lords but One Lord. For, like as we are compelled by the Christian verity to acknowledge every Person by Himself to be God and Lord, so are we forbidden by the Catholic Religion to say, there be Three Gods or Three Lords. The Father is made of none, neither created, nor begotten. The Son is of the Father alone; not made, nor created, but begotten. The Holy Ghost is of the Father, and of the Son neither made, nor created, nor begotten, but proceeding.

So there is One Father, not Three Fathers; one Son, not Three Sons; One Holy Ghost, not Three Holy Ghosts. And in this Trinity none is afore or after Other, None is greater or less than Another, but the whole Three Persons are Co-eternal together, and Co-equal. So that in all things, as is aforesaid, the Unity in Trinity, and the Trinity in Unity, is to be worshipped. He therefore that will be saved, must thus think of the Trinity.

Furthermore, it is necessary to everlasting Salvation, that he also believe rightly the Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ. For the right Faith is, that we believe and confess, that our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is God and Man.

God, of the substance of the Father, begotten before the worlds; and Man, of the substance of His mother, born into the world. Perfect God and Perfect Man, of a reasonable Soul and human Flesh subsisting. Equal to the Father as touching His Godhead, and inferior to the Father as touching His Manhood. Who, although He be God and Man, yet He is not two, but One Christ. One, not by conversion of the Godhead into Flesh, but by taking of the Manhood into God. One altogether, not by confusion of substance, but by Unity of Person. For as the reasonable soul and flesh is one Man, so God and Man is one Christ. Who suffered for our salvation, descended into Hell, rose again the third day from the dead. He ascended into Heaven, He sitteth on the right hand of the Father, God Almighty, from whence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead. At whose coming all men shall rise again with their bodies, and shall give account for their own works. And they that have done good shall go into life everlasting, and they that have done evil into everlasting fire. This is the Catholic Faith, which except a man believe faithfully and firmly, he cannot be saved.
The translation is not that from the Ordinariate's Daily Office book, although pretty close, but is the Marquis of Bute's translation as found in the good old Catholic Encyclopædia, which you can find here.

(If this post looks familiar, you have an astonishingly good memory as it is, indeed, a reprint (mostly) and from a full ten (10) years ago.)

Wednesday, June 08, 2022


I know you're all dying to know the election results from yesterday. 

You can find them here.

And how did I do?  Ahem.  Of all the lebenty-leben people on the ballot, two (2) of my choices won outright.  Both of them judges.  And, of course, it was a primary election.   So, a few of my choices won their nomination bid.  But when  you look at the numbers you know that the snowball-in-hell analogy applies to their chances in finals.  Well, here in the People's Republic of California* that's pretty close to what I expected.  Except for the part about my two judicial picks winning.  I have no idea how that happened.  Maybe I was mistaken about them.  Or there was a fubar in the vote counting.  We'll probably never know.


*Old joke, I know.  But it gets to be less of a joke and more of an accurate description every day.  So I go with it quite a lot.  Or sometimes just PRC.

Tuesday, June 07, 2022

It's Votin' Day Here in the PRC

I have done my civic, albeit completely futile, duty and voted for some of the carefully vetted candidates presented for my choice.  A few of them were even good folks.  (I voted for you, James Hanink.  Yup, I'm the one.)

"Futile?" I hear you ask.  Indeed.  The Democrats have got this state, and especially this corner of the state,  laced up tighter than an 1890's corset.  They don't even have to rig the vote the way they do elsewhere.  Although, they do.  No idea why.  Force of habit, I guess.