Necessary Reminders

In all seriousness, a day doesn't go by where I have don't have pangs of regrets over my decision to leave the Episcopal Church. The Anglican spiritual tradition is a rich one and never to be dismissed, nor I hope forgotten. Fortunately, however, whenever the pangs become acute, good ol' TEC reminds me why I left; that the tradition I love has long ago passed. Just yesterday there were two good reminders, provided via Christopher Johnson at MCJ, and both taken from the "Calendar of Events" on the Episcopal Church website.

First up for your inspection, "Movement as Prayer: A Workshop. An Experience. An Education." At Saint Mark's Cathedral in Seattle you are invited to

Join us on October 13 for a day of learning and experiencing the ways in which movement becomes a form of worship. There will be opportunities to whirl with the Sufis, dance with liturgical dancer Betsey Beckman, to walk the labyrinth.

There will be both instruction and demonstrations; no previous experience needed. It is about turning and turning until we come around right (emphasis added).

Uh oh, that could make for a long, long day. You might want to hire a sitter and leave the kids at home...and wear comfortable shoes. Speaking of kids, next up is "Hip Hop Schoolhouse" where in the land of the bean and the cod

All are welcome at St. Paul's Cathedral in Boston, Massachusetts on October 13 at 5:30 p.m. for the HipHopEMass 'Big Bean' Celebration with the newest Hip Hop Bishop (sic), 'Great Momma' Gayle Harris.

On October 14, 10 a.m. - 3 p.m., the Cathedral will then host HipHopEMass Schoolhouse where the elements of Hip Hop, theology of Hip Hop, Hip Hop liturgy and evangelization will be introduced.

Ah, the Hip Hop Mass; an old favorite of mine. This one pretty much defies belief but picture if you will a bunch of ageing baby-boomer Episcopal Clergy in vestments, shoutin' out into over-amplified hand-held mikes the likes of

The Lord is all that, I need
For nothing
He allows me to chill.
He keeps me from being heated
And allows me to breathe easy.
He guides my life so that
I can represent and give
Shouts out in his Name.
And even though I walk through
The Hood of death,
I don't back down
For you have my back.
The fact that you have me covered
Allows me to chill.
He provides me with back-up
In front of my player-haters
And I know that I am a baler
And life will be phat
I fall back in the Lord's crib
For the rest of my life

"And life will be phat." God have mercy. Anyway, that would be the 23rd Psalm, in case you were wondering and fo' shizzle my nizzle that'll get my homies into the pews, yo! And, I guess, da bling.

I feel much better now, thank you.

Necessary Reminders

In all seriousness, a day doesn't go by where I have don't have pangs of regrets over my decision to leave the Episcopal Church. The Anglican spiritual tradition is a rich one and never to be dismissed, nor I hope forgotten. Fortunately, however, whenever the pangs become acute, good ol' TEC reminds me why I left; that the tradition I love has long ago passed. Just yesterday there were two good reminders, provided via Christopher Johnson at MCJ, and both taken from the "Calendar of Events" on the Episcopal Church website.

First up for your inspection, "Movement as Prayer: A Workshop. An Experience. An Education." At Saint Mark's Cathedral in Seattle you are invited to

Join us on October 13 for a day of learning and experiencing the ways in which movement becomes a form of worship. There will be opportunities to whirl with the Sufis, dance with liturgical dancer Betsey Beckman, to walk the labyrinth.

There will be both instruction and demonstrations; no previous experience needed. It is about turning and turning until we come around right (emphasis added).

Uh oh, that could make for a long, long day. You might want to hire a sitter and leave the kids at home...and wear comfortable shoes. Speaking of kids, next up is "Hip Hop Schoolhouse" where in the land of the bean and the cod

All are welcome at St. Paul's Cathedral in Boston, Massachusetts on October 13 at 5:30 p.m. for the HipHopEMass 'Big Bean' Celebration with the newest Hip Hop Bishop (sic), 'Great Momma' Gayle Harris.

On October 14, 10 a.m. - 3 p.m., the Cathedral will then host HipHopEMass Schoolhouse where the elements of Hip Hop, theology of Hip Hop, Hip Hop liturgy and evangelization will be introduced.

Ah, the Hip Hop Mass; an old favorite of mine. This one pretty much defies belief but picture if you will a bunch of ageing baby-boomer Episcopal Clergy in vestments, shoutin' out into over-amplified hand-held mikes the likes of

The Lord is all that, I need
For nothing
He allows me to chill.
He keeps me from being heated
And allows me to breathe easy.
He guides my life so that
I can represent and give
Shouts out in his Name.
And even though I walk through
The Hood of death,
I don't back down
For you have my back.
The fact that you have me covered
Allows me to chill.
He provides me with back-up
In front of my player-haters
And I know that I am a baler
And life will be phat
I fall back in the Lord's crib
For the rest of my life

"And life will be phat." God have mercy. Anyway, that would be the 23rd Psalm, in case you were wondering and fo' shizzle my nizzle that'll get my homies into the pews, yo! And, I guess, da bling.

I feel much better now, thank you.

Oh Please, Please, Pretty Please?

Rumors are flying Al Gore is contemplating another run at the presidency.

(h/t Riehl World View)

Oh Please, Please, Pretty Please?

Rumors are flying Al Gore is contemplating another run at the presidency.

(h/t Riehl World View)

Baloney Sandwich

Mr. Franklin Jennings writes: "I'll sing in an ordinary form liturgy just about the time I hear the cantor intoning the Propers. Heaven deliver us from the four hymn sandwich. Somebody wrote the propers for good reason."

Well said, sir, and understandable given that the sandwiches served up in most Catholic churches are made with Wonder Bread and Cheez-food product. It can be done better: in most Anglo-Catholic churches the minor propers are song as well the four hymn sandwich. The difference is in the hymns. The 1940 Episcopal Hymnal, most often used in A-C parishes, may be the finest collection of hymns ever assembled. Not only are most of the tunes (composers/arrangers include, Palestrina, J.S. Bach, S.S. Wesley, Sir Arthur Sullivan, Holst and Vaughan Williams, to name a few) and the set verses top notch, the hymns are meticulously arranged by subject and chronology so the music director and the priest may select hymns pertinent to the Mass. Further, in most Anglican churches you will find the "choir edition" of the hymnal in the pews so congregants may sing parts if they like (and many do). Every verse is sung.

In many Catholic churches I've attended there doesn't seem to be much thought given to hymn selection save for ease of playing by the often incompetent organist (by the way, those funny-looking wooden sticks at the bottom of the thing are called "pedals" and can actually be played!). Also, the only function for the hymn in some RC churches is to serve as a bumper. When it's time to move on it's rallentando and coda, no matter where you happen to be. Then there are the hymns themselves: many wonderful hymns are found in Catholic hymnals but others are simply deplorable. I recently saw in the Adoremus Hymnal a sweet and lilting tune used as a setting for a condemnation of abortion. I am vehemently and unalterably opposed to that despicable and murderous act--no argument there--but I don't want to sing about it either; same for the Holocaust and pederasty.

So please don't come down on hymn singing. Done right, it is enormously uplifting and it can be done right in Catholic churches: go to High Mass at Fr. Rutler's Church of Our Saviour in New York and listen to great hymns, well accompanied and song with gusto. You'll swear you're among Protestants . . . well, for a little bit, anyway.

Baloney Sandwich

Mr. Franklin Jennings writes: "I'll sing in an ordinary form liturgy just about the time I hear the cantor intoning the Propers. Heaven deliver us from the four hymn sandwich. Somebody wrote the propers for good reason."

Well said, sir, and understandable given that the sandwiches served up in most Catholic churches are made with Wonder Bread and Cheez-food product. It can be done better: in most Anglo-Catholic churches the minor propers are song as well the four hymn sandwich. The difference is in the hymns. The 1940 Episcopal Hymnal, most often used in A-C parishes, may be the finest collection of hymns ever assembled. Not only are most of the tunes (composers/arrangers include, Palestrina, J.S. Bach, S.S. Wesley, Sir Arthur Sullivan, Holst and Vaughan Williams, to name a few) and the set verses top notch, the hymns are meticulously arranged by subject and chronology so the music director and the priest may select hymns pertinent to the Mass. Further, in most Anglican churches you will find the "choir edition" of the hymnal in the pews so congregants may sing parts if they like (and many do). Every verse is sung.

In many Catholic churches I've attended there doesn't seem to be much thought given to hymn selection save for ease of playing by the often incompetent organist (by the way, those funny-looking wooden sticks at the bottom of the thing are called "pedals" and can actually be played!). Also, the only function for the hymn in some RC churches is to serve as a bumper. When it's time to move on it's rallentando and coda, no matter where you happen to be. Then there are the hymns themselves: many wonderful hymns are found in Catholic hymnals but others are simply deplorable. I recently saw in the Adoremus Hymnal a sweet and lilting tune used as a setting for a condemnation of abortion. I am vehemently and unalterably opposed to that despicable and murderous act--no argument there--but I don't want to sing about it either; same for the Holocaust and pederasty.

So please don't come down on hymn singing. Done right, it is enormously uplifting and it can be done right in Catholic churches: go to High Mass at Fr. Rutler's Church of Our Saviour in New York and listen to great hymns, well accompanied and song with gusto. You'll swear you're among Protestants . . . well, for a little bit, anyway.

Anglican or English?

Ruth Gledhill in the (London) Times has a good piece on the Rt. Rev'd Jeffrey Steenson , Bishop of the Rio Grande (Episcopal), who recently announced his intentions to resign his orders and be received into the Holy Catholic Church. He hopes to become a priest in Holy Mother Church and though married, it seems a good bet this will happen, owing to the Pastoral Provision created under the aegis of Paul VI that allows married Anglican priests to be received into the Catholic Church and, eventually, into the priesthood. The Pastoral Provision also allows for "Anglican Use," parishes established by former Episcopalians (but of course open to all Catholics) using the modified Book of Common Prayer.

Gledhill writes of Bishop Steenson's dream "creating more space for the growing number of Anglican-rite churches in the Catholic Church in the US." She quotes Steenson: "I hope and pray that the Catholic Church might encourage us to bring a meaningful expression of Anglicanism into the life of the Catholic Church. I think the hope would be that Rome actually countenance the creation of some kind of meaningful Anglican ecclesial community under the umbrella of the Catholic Church."

As an Anglo-Catholic departing for Rome, those should be welcome words, indeed I should be ecstatic. In truth, however, I have mixed feelings. The Holy Catholic Church is at work on a new translation of the Novus Ordo Mass and judging by the enticing snippets I have seen, it is vastly superior to the present translation (proof of its superiority is that there is already whining from the liberals who complain of too many big words, all spelled out and everything; too challenging for the average Catholic Joe). I wonder, however, the efficacy of introducing a new English translation at the same time expanding Anglican Use parishes. Does the Church really need two English translations (three, actually: Anglican Use parishes may also use, if I have it right, the woeful Rite II from the 1979 Prayer Book)?

One of the great virtues of the Episcopal/Anglican Church, before the rot set in, was one could walk into any Anglican service, anywhere in the world, and know exactly what was going on; the glorious English was the same (even if the liturgy was disparate). Similarly with the Catholic Church (that part of it using the Roman Rite, of course) before the Vatican II reforms and the use of the vernacular. Understand, I am not against Anglican Use, indeed I am all for it. The proliferation of A.U. parishes would be a shot in the arm for the dismal music and liturgy found in so many Catholic churches--nothing like competition! It seems, however, to this layman the Holy Catholic Church needs but one (albeit a good one) English translation of the Mass. More might encourage Balkanization.

(Thanks to William Tighe)

Anglican or English?

Ruth Gledhill in the (London) Times has a good piece on the Rt. Rev'd Jeffrey Steenson , Bishop of the Rio Grande (Episcopal), who recently announced his intentions to resign his orders and be received into the Holy Catholic Church. He hopes to become a priest in Holy Mother Church and though married, it seems a good bet this will happen, owing to the Pastoral Provision created under the aegis of Paul VI that allows married Anglican priests to be received into the Catholic Church and, eventually, into the priesthood. The Pastoral Provision also allows for "Anglican Use," parishes established by former Episcopalians (but of course open to all Catholics) using the modified Book of Common Prayer.

Gledhill writes of Bishop Steenson's dream "creating more space for the growing number of Anglican-rite churches in the Catholic Church in the US." She quotes Steenson: "I hope and pray that the Catholic Church might encourage us to bring a meaningful expression of Anglicanism into the life of the Catholic Church. I think the hope would be that Rome actually countenance the creation of some kind of meaningful Anglican ecclesial community under the umbrella of the Catholic Church."

As an Anglo-Catholic departing for Rome, those should be welcome words, indeed I should be ecstatic. In truth, however, I have mixed feelings. The Holy Catholic Church is at work on a new translation of the Novus Ordo Mass and judging by the enticing snippets I have seen, it is vastly superior to the present translation (proof of its superiority is that there is already whining from the liberals who complain of too many big words, all spelled out and everything; too challenging for the average Catholic Joe). I wonder, however, the efficacy of introducing a new English translation at the same time expanding Anglican Use parishes. Does the Church really need two English translations (three, actually: Anglican Use parishes may also use, if I have it right, the woeful Rite II from the 1979 Prayer Book)?

One of the great virtues of the Episcopal/Anglican Church, before the rot set in, was one could walk into any Anglican service, anywhere in the world, and know exactly what was going on; the glorious English was the same (even if the liturgy was disparate). Similarly with the Catholic Church (that part of it using the Roman Rite, of course) before the Vatican II reforms and the use of the vernacular. Understand, I am not against Anglican Use, indeed I am all for it. The proliferation of A.U. parishes would be a shot in the arm for the dismal music and liturgy found in so many Catholic churches--nothing like competition! It seems, however, to this layman the Holy Catholic Church needs but one (albeit a good one) English translation of the Mass. More might encourage Balkanization.

(Thanks to William Tighe)

Wasting No Time Wearing Out My Welcome

My first RC Mass in the hinterlands: not so ghastly, actually. Owing to obligations Sunday morning, I attended the Vigil Mass (a mild harumph) at a small RC Church not far from Bovina (if there are any Roman Catholics in Bovina, they must number only in the single digits).

What I didn't like:

1. The didactic, namby-pamby, sing-songy English of the N.O. English translation, fit for delivery by a kindergarten teacher: "Good morning, boys and girls, the Lord be with you." "Good morning, Miss Krabappel, and also with you." I've never understood that "also with you" (the Piskies do the same in the '79 Prayer Book). In the N.O. Latin, just as in the Traditional Mass, it reads, et cum spiritu tuo--"and with thy (or "your," if you like) spirit." And would someone tell me why the Latin Mass states Credo (not Credimus) in unum Deum but its English counterpart states "WE believe in one God?" There, like General Buck Turgidson in "Dr. Strangelove," I'm beginning to smell a big fat commie rat.

2. The singing: it's been said Catholics can't sing. That's not quite right, Catholics won't sing. All the hymns (four of them) were well known, easy and accompanied fairly competently on the electronic appliance. Despite that, most of those around me didn't even bother to pick up a hymnal, preferring to stand mute and stare ahead. This Anglican finds that the most discouraging about his future Catholic brethren: they don't even try.

What I did like:

1. The church itself: it was built ca. 1850 and has charm, albeit less than it must have had in earlier days, having been Vatican II Councilized with the picnic table altar and no altar rail (and yes, the Kirk chair; two of them, actually!).

2. The homily/sermon: it was a long one, this Anglican felt right at home. What's more, it was good. Given by an fine old Queens-born Irishman, it properly centered on the readings, of course, but the priest wasn't afraid to have at anti-Catholic bias in the media, singling out the New York Times, as well as the media's unrelentingly pro-abortion stance. It did my heart good to hear that.

3 (and most heartening). The attendance: the small church was packed, even on a Saturday evening. Many of those attending were young (young!), no doubt owing, in part, to there being a college nearby. Parishioners were welcoming (not so, I understand at many RC churches) and I quickly no longer felt the stranger.

So will I be back? Absolutely, the positives far outweighed the negatives and when you add sound doctrine and the unquestioned validity of the sacraments, it's a no-brainer. Just one plea to Christ's Vicar on earth: please, please, please, hurry up with the new English translation I keep hearing is on the way. And while you're at it, can we deep-six that kiss of peace/handshake business? We can commune with our neighbors before and after church. During church, let's keep it to God alone.

Wasting No Time Wearing Out My Welcome

My first RC Mass in the hinterlands: not so ghastly, actually. Owing to obligations Sunday morning, I attended the Vigil Mass (a mild harumph) at a small RC Church not far from Bovina (if there are any Roman Catholics in Bovina, they must number only in the single digits).

What I didn't like:

1. The didactic, namby-pamby, sing-songy English of the N.O. English translation, fit for delivery by a kindergarten teacher: "Good morning, boys and girls, the Lord be with you." "Good morning, Miss Krabappel, and also with you." I've never understood that "also with you" (the Piskies do the same in the '79 Prayer Book). In the N.O. Latin, just as in the Traditional Mass, it reads, et cum spiritu tuo--"and with thy (or "your," if you like) spirit." And would someone tell me why the Latin Mass states Credo (not Credimus) in unum Deum but its English counterpart states "WE believe in one God?" There, like General Buck Turgidson in "Dr. Strangelove," I'm beginning to smell a big fat commie rat.

2. The singing: it's been said Catholics can't sing. That's not quite right, Catholics won't sing. All the hymns (four of them) were well known, easy and accompanied fairly competently on the electronic appliance. Despite that, most of those around me didn't even bother to pick up a hymnal, preferring to stand mute and stare ahead. This Anglican finds that the most discouraging about his future Catholic brethren: they don't even try.

What I did like:

1. The church itself: it was built ca. 1850 and has charm, albeit less than it must have had in earlier days, having been Vatican II Councilized with the picnic table altar and no altar rail (and yes, the Kirk chair; two of them, actually!).

2. The homily/sermon: it was a long one, this Anglican felt right at home. What's more, it was good. Given by an fine old Queens-born Irishman, it properly centered on the readings, of course, but the priest wasn't afraid to have at anti-Catholic bias in the media, singling out the New York Times, as well as the media's unrelentingly pro-abortion stance. It did my heart good to hear that.

3 (and most heartening). The attendance: the small church was packed, even on a Saturday evening. Many of those attending were young (young!), no doubt owing, in part, to there being a college nearby. Parishioners were welcoming (not so, I understand at many RC churches) and I quickly no longer felt the stranger.

So will I be back? Absolutely, the positives far outweighed the negatives and when you add sound doctrine and the unquestioned validity of the sacraments, it's a no-brainer. Just one plea to Christ's Vicar on earth: please, please, please, hurry up with the new English translation I keep hearing is on the way. And while you're at it, can we deep-six that kiss of peace/handshake business? We can commune with our neighbors before and after church. During church, let's keep it to God alone.

The Kids These Days . . .

An RC friend sent the pic above, taken in front of the Episcopal church in his suburban New Jersey neighborhood (in Bp. Spong's vibrant Diocese of Newark), expressing bemusement. Well, dear Brother, it's like this: the Episcopal Church is desperately trying to attract younger membership because the actuarial tables are stacked against her. By incorporating the music of the likes of U2 into the Mass (as do ageing Catholics thumping for the Post Vatican II reforms), they hope to lure more young people into the churches; young people who won't be turning fifty for at least a couple of years.

The Kids These Days . . .

An RC friend sent the pic above, taken in front of the Episcopal church in his suburban New Jersey neighborhood (in Bp. Spong's vibrant Diocese of Newark), expressing bemusement. Well, dear Brother, it's like this: the Episcopal Church is desperately trying to attract younger membership because the actuarial tables are stacked against her. By incorporating the music of the likes of U2 into the Mass (as do ageing Catholics thumping for the Post Vatican II reforms), they hope to lure more young people into the churches; young people who won't be turning fifty for at least a couple of years.

Goodness . . .

Reaction to my last post was a tad more than expected. To all who e-mailed, thank you, I have have tried to answer each of you individually ("Minuteman," my response to you was bounced back for some reason). To those who commented, grateful thanks for your encouragement and solace, I am astonished and gratified at your solicitude.

Answers to a couple of FAQs.

Regarding RCIA: the priest whose care I am under has exempted me from it, a privilege he often extends to Anglicans, he tells me. Nevertheless, I have been attending the classes his parish offers because (apparently unlike so many others) they are informative and stimulating. This week's class, for example, was on grace and there was much discussion of it in the form found in Flannery O'Connor's stories. Hardly boring, that!

Where I attend Mass: I am blessed (in this case, at least) to live in Manhattan where quality Catholic worship is readily available. I find myself attending St. Agnes's on 43rd Street for their superb celebration of the old Latin Rite and Fr. Rutler's Church of Our Saviour where the N.O. is used. The mediocre English is regrettable but otherwise the ritual, music and preaching are superb. Fr. Rutler has announced the Old Rite will be celebrated at Our Saviour when they can figure out where to schedule it. He is a very busy man.

Finally, a personal note to JAC: hearing from you was especially gratifying and due credit is acknowledged. I wonder if you recall a rather heated debate we had back in 2003 about the state of the Episcopal Church. You and I argued vociferously (at that point a fair amount of Hendrick's gin had worked its way into the conversation) the appropriateness of leaving the Episcopal Church. I was against, you were for. That'll larn me. It would be a joy to see you on on the other side of the Tiber but regardless, you'll always be my favorite priest (and you're up against some powerful competition).

Goodness . . .

Reaction to my last post was a tad more than expected. To all who e-mailed, thank you, I have have tried to answer each of you individually ("Minuteman," my response to you was bounced back for some reason). To those who commented, grateful thanks for your encouragement and solace, I am astonished and gratified at your solicitude.

Answers to a couple of FAQs.

Regarding RCIA: the priest whose care I am under has exempted me from it, a privilege he often extends to Anglicans, he tells me. Nevertheless, I have been attending the classes his parish offers because (apparently unlike so many others) they are informative and stimulating. This week's class, for example, was on grace and there was much discussion of it in the form found in Flannery O'Connor's stories. Hardly boring, that!

Where I attend Mass: I am blessed (in this case, at least) to live in Manhattan where quality Catholic worship is readily available. I find myself attending St. Agnes's on 43rd Street for their superb celebration of the old Latin Rite and Fr. Rutler's Church of Our Saviour where the N.O. is used. The mediocre English is regrettable but otherwise the ritual, music and preaching are superb. Fr. Rutler has announced the Old Rite will be celebrated at Our Saviour when they can figure out where to schedule it. He is a very busy man.

Finally, a personal note to JAC: hearing from you was especially gratifying and due credit is acknowledged. I wonder if you recall a rather heated debate we had back in 2003 about the state of the Episcopal Church. You and I argued vociferously (at that point a fair amount of Hendrick's gin had worked its way into the conversation) the appropriateness of leaving the Episcopal Church. I was against, you were for. That'll larn me. It would be a joy to see you on on the other side of the Tiber but regardless, you'll always be my favorite priest (and you're up against some powerful competition).

Good-bye to All That

The House of Bishops of the Episcopal Church met in New Orleans last week, first with the Archbishop of Canterbury and then among themselves to draft a response to the Primates' requests made in Dar es Salaam last February that they cease and desist their wayward behavior. Yesterday they issued their report. You can read the Episcospeak version here; I won't take the trouble breaking it down (essentially, it's the same old slop) because it doesn't concern me much anymore and besides, why bother when the able Captain Yips and Christopher Johnson have already done it themselves--anything I can do, they can do better.

It is possible, however, some people, possibly numbering as high as the middle single digits, may wonder what the Bovina Bloviator is doing about it. Here's what: anticipating the HOB report issued yesterday, last week I sorrowfully wrote my most excellent rector I was leaving the Episcopal Church and undergoing instruction to be received into the Holy Catholic Church.

For regular readers this revelation is letting the cat out of the cellophane bag (to borrow a Walt Kelly expression), but I am truthful when I relate leaving the Episcopal Church, despite her wretched excesses of the past thirty years, has been a gut-wrenchingly difficult decision and one I have not rushed into. I was baptized a Christian in the Episcopal Church and my earliest memories of Sundays are being in an Anglo-Catholic church in Connecticut, standing while the grownups were kneeling, barely clearing the top of the pew (and gnawing on the top of said pew, I confess) and my dear mom, whenever I squirmed (frequently) propping the Prayer Book (1928) or the Missal in front of me, pointing out where we were and thus giving me my first reading lessons; that and of learning to roar out the glorious hymns found in the 1940 Hymnal.

Alas, those days are long gone and the Episcopal Church has, while so many of us shamefully stood by, transformed itself antithetically. As an Anglo-Catholic, I have long thought, like the Rt. Rev'd Steenson, "Anglicans ought to be directed toward the goal of reunification with the Catholic Church." When I was a boy, this was a distinct possibility. Now the chances of it are just about nil.

So it's off to Rome for me. I do not labor under the illusion all is milk and honey on the other side of the Tiber. It is not, the Roman Catholic Church, especially in the United States, is beset with woes, lousy liturgy and music being among the less egregious. But the Holy Catholic Church possesses something the Episcopal Church does not: sound doctrine, along with a Pope (especially the present one) and magisterium to ensure that it remains so. Sound doctrine will make it possible for me (I pray) to tolerate Masses where the priest sits in the Captain Kirk chair while the miasmal excrescences of Marty Haugen and David Haas waft into the nave. And while my heartbreak over what happened to the Episcopal Church will remain with me to the end of my days (as I suspect it will for Fr. Kimel), at the same time I look forward with great joy to embracing the full Catholic Faith. I ask your prayers.

Good-bye to All That

The House of Bishops of the Episcopal Church met in New Orleans last week, first with the Archbishop of Canterbury and then among themselves to draft a response to the Primates' requests made in Dar es Salaam last February that they cease and desist their wayward behavior. Yesterday they issued their report. You can read the Episcospeak version here; I won't take the trouble breaking it down (essentially, it's the same old slop) because it doesn't concern me much anymore and besides, why bother when the able Captain Yips and Christopher Johnson have already done it themselves--anything I can do, they can do better.

It is possible, however, some people, possibly numbering as high as the middle single digits, may wonder what the Bovina Bloviator is doing about it. Here's what: anticipating the HOB report issued yesterday, last week I sorrowfully wrote my most excellent rector I was leaving the Episcopal Church and undergoing instruction to be received into the Holy Catholic Church.

For regular readers this revelation is letting the cat out of the cellophane bag (to borrow a Walt Kelly expression), but I am truthful when I relate leaving the Episcopal Church, despite her wretched excesses of the past thirty years, has been a gut-wrenchingly difficult decision and one I have not rushed into. I was baptized a Christian in the Episcopal Church and my earliest memories of Sundays are being in an Anglo-Catholic church in Connecticut, standing while the grownups were kneeling, barely clearing the top of the pew (and gnawing on the top of said pew, I confess) and my dear mom, whenever I squirmed (frequently) propping the Prayer Book (1928) or the Missal in front of me, pointing out where we were and thus giving me my first reading lessons; that and of learning to roar out the glorious hymns found in the 1940 Hymnal.

Alas, those days are long gone and the Episcopal Church has, while so many of us shamefully stood by, transformed itself antithetically. As an Anglo-Catholic, I have long thought, like the Rt. Rev'd Steenson, "Anglicans ought to be directed toward the goal of reunification with the Catholic Church." When I was a boy, this was a distinct possibility. Now the chances of it are just about nil.

So it's off to Rome for me. I do not labor under the illusion all is milk and honey on the other side of the Tiber. It is not, the Roman Catholic Church, especially in the United States, is beset with woes, lousy liturgy and music being among the less egregious. But the Holy Catholic Church possesses something the Episcopal Church does not: sound doctrine, along with a Pope (especially the present one) and magisterium to ensure that it remains so. Sound doctrine will make it possible for me (I pray) to tolerate Masses where the priest sits in the Captain Kirk chair while the miasmal excrescences of Marty Haugen and David Haas waft into the nave. And while my heartbreak over what happened to the Episcopal Church will remain with me to the end of my days (as I suspect it will for Fr. Kimel), at the same time I look forward with great joy to embracing the full Catholic Faith. I ask your prayers.

Another One Goes to Rome

The Rt. Rev'd Jeffrey Steenson, Bishop of the Rio Grande, announced via a letter to his clergy that owing to his concerns over "where the Episcopal Church is heading" he will resign his position by the end of the year and enter the Roman Catholic Church. Read the whole thing.

That make three Bishops in under a year (one was retired) who have poped. Dare I say there might be a trend developing here?

(Thanks to Stand Firm)

Another One Goes to Rome

The Rt. Rev'd Jeffrey Steenson, Bishop of the Rio Grande, announced via a letter to his clergy that owing to his concerns over "where the Episcopal Church is heading" he will resign his position by the end of the year and enter the Roman Catholic Church. Read the whole thing.

That make three Bishops in under a year (one was retired) who have poped. Dare I say there might be a trend developing here?

(Thanks to Stand Firm)

A Grim Milestone

It was one year ago today this blog was first foisted upon a blissfully ignorant public which, for the most part, remains blissfully ignorant of it. There are, however, those few of you who make the occasional visit here and for that I can only offer my warm thanks and, of course, mea maxima culpa.

A Grim Milestone

It was one year ago today this blog was first foisted upon a blissfully ignorant public which, for the most part, remains blissfully ignorant of it. There are, however, those few of you who make the occasional visit here and for that I can only offer my warm thanks and, of course, mea maxima culpa.

Just a Coincidence?

Newsweek has an interview with another woman who claims to be a Roman Catholic priest. Her "ordination" took place recently at the Eden Theological Seminary in Webster Groves, MO. Webster Groves is also the home of Christopher Johnson, proprietor of the well-known Midwest Conservative Journal, and who has thus far not denied attending the ceremonies.

Just a Coincidence?

Newsweek has an interview with another woman who claims to be a Roman Catholic priest. Her "ordination" took place recently at the Eden Theological Seminary in Webster Groves, MO. Webster Groves is also the home of Christopher Johnson, proprietor of the well-known Midwest Conservative Journal, and who has thus far not denied attending the ceremonies.

More Smoke from the Thurible

• This Sunday past, 5 P.M. at Fr. Rutler's Church of Our Saviour in Manhattan: Solemn High Mass in the traditional rite of the liturgical books of Blessed John XXIII; absolutely magnificent and, in time, to be regularly celebrated in that glorious church.

• From this week's Spectator, a piece by Damian Thompson:

AN EXCITING TIME TO BE CATHOLIC

Next Friday, 14 September, the worldwide restrictions on the celebration of the ancient Latin liturgy of the Catholic Church will be swept away. With a stroke of his pen, Pope Benedict XVI has ended a 40-year campaign to eradicate the Tridentine Mass, whose solemn rubrics are regarded with contempt by liberal bishops. In doing so, he has indicated that the entire worship of the Church — which has become tired and dreary since the Second Vatican Council — is on the brink of reformation. This is an exciting time to be a Catholic.

(snip)

But in many … dioceses it was still easier to track down a witches’ coven than a traditional Mass. And, depressingly, the one curial cardinal who really cared about these things was heading for retirement.

Only he didn’t retire. He became Pope instead.

Read it all.

Is it mere fortuity the Episcopal Church is plunging into the abyss at the same time the Catholic Church, especially in the U.S., is poised for splendid rebirth and growth? Who can say but regardless, these are exciting, even heady, times indeed.

More Smoke from the Thurible

• This Sunday past, 5 P.M. at Fr. Rutler's Church of Our Saviour in Manhattan: Solemn High Mass in the traditional rite of the liturgical books of Blessed John XXIII; absolutely magnificent and, in time, to be regularly celebrated in that glorious church.

• From this week's Spectator, a piece by Damian Thompson:

AN EXCITING TIME TO BE CATHOLIC

Next Friday, 14 September, the worldwide restrictions on the celebration of the ancient Latin liturgy of the Catholic Church will be swept away. With a stroke of his pen, Pope Benedict XVI has ended a 40-year campaign to eradicate the Tridentine Mass, whose solemn rubrics are regarded with contempt by liberal bishops. In doing so, he has indicated that the entire worship of the Church — which has become tired and dreary since the Second Vatican Council — is on the brink of reformation. This is an exciting time to be a Catholic.

(snip)

But in many … dioceses it was still easier to track down a witches’ coven than a traditional Mass. And, depressingly, the one curial cardinal who really cared about these things was heading for retirement.

Only he didn’t retire. He became Pope instead.

Read it all.

Is it mere fortuity the Episcopal Church is plunging into the abyss at the same time the Catholic Church, especially in the U.S., is poised for splendid rebirth and growth? Who can say but regardless, these are exciting, even heady, times indeed.

Operator, Get Me AIsha 6-7272

Reactionary cuss I am, for years I've had my eye out for a old-fashioned black rotary-dial desk telephone like the one I dimly remember in the house I grew up in; that would be a Western Electric Model 302, in the off chance you're interested. Unfortunately, old telephones are highly collectible, even fairly common ones like the 302, hence they are also highly priced and I could never bring myself to shell out the big bucks usually asked for them, especially if they worked. Last week, up Bovina way, I happened on a yard sale and there, nestled among the old percolators one always finds at those things, was a gently used Model 302 for sale for the princely sum of $5.00. The seller couldn't warrant it worked but claimed it had the last time he used it--twenty-five years ago. So I took a chance. It worked fine except the ringer was silent and a slight rewiring of the guts fixed that. I love the thing: it weighs a ton and has a loud but cheerful bell that will wake the dead. This particular phone is 54 years old and will likely outlast me.

It probably comes as no surprise I am not a fan of cell phones. I actually have one but it's the cheapo kind and you pay for every call made or received so it's just for emergencies. The only good reason I can see for upgrading would be for the ability to download ringtones, some of which are truly marvelous, this one especially: the Infidelphone which you can listen to here (Warning: not safe for politically correct workplaces or if you happen to be in a mosque).

Operator, Get Me AIsha 6-7272

Reactionary cuss I am, for years I've had my eye out for a old-fashioned black rotary-dial desk telephone like the one I dimly remember in the house I grew up in; that would be a Western Electric Model 302, in the off chance you're interested. Unfortunately, old telephones are highly collectible, even fairly common ones like the 302, hence they are also highly priced and I could never bring myself to shell out the big bucks usually asked for them, especially if they worked. Last week, up Bovina way, I happened on a yard sale and there, nestled among the old percolators one always finds at those things, was a gently used Model 302 for sale for the princely sum of $5.00. The seller couldn't warrant it worked but claimed it had the last time he used it--twenty-five years ago. So I took a chance. It worked fine except the ringer was silent and a slight rewiring of the guts fixed that. I love the thing: it weighs a ton and has a loud but cheerful bell that will wake the dead. This particular phone is 54 years old and will likely outlast me.

It probably comes as no surprise I am not a fan of cell phones. I actually have one but it's the cheapo kind and you pay for every call made or received so it's just for emergencies. The only good reason I can see for upgrading would be for the ability to download ringtones, some of which are truly marvelous, this one especially: the Infidelphone which you can listen to here (Warning: not safe for politically correct workplaces or if you happen to be in a mosque).

Just Asking

Archbishop Cranmer has a fine piece on the "European Day Against the Death Penalty," to be foisted on the hapless populace October 10th. Poland is opposed, requesting the festivities also include a discussion on abortion. No surprise at all, the Eurocrats have rejected Poland's request. A question: why do those so opposed to the taking of life from the guilty frequently so favor the taking of life from the innocent?

(Thanks to the Damn Yankee Infidel)

Just Asking

Archbishop Cranmer has a fine piece on the "European Day Against the Death Penalty," to be foisted on the hapless populace October 10th. Poland is opposed, requesting the festivities also include a discussion on abortion. No surprise at all, the Eurocrats have rejected Poland's request. A question: why do those so opposed to the taking of life from the guilty frequently so favor the taking of life from the innocent?

(Thanks to the Damn Yankee Infidel)

A Poor, Infirm, Weak, and Despised Old Man

I have tried to steer clear writing on the state of the Episcopal Church lately but an exception is in order in the case of the retired Bishop of Newark, John Shelby Spong. He recently issued a jeremiad against the Archbishop of Canterbury which is breathtaking in its rudeness and rant. Understandably, Anglican conservatives in this country are in an uproar. They ought not to be, it isn't worth it.

Spong is old. As Bishop of Newark he oversaw radical innovations which have pushed the diocese into a tailspin from which it has little chance of recovery. Calcified but ardent he continues preaching apostasies and seems not to notice at the same time he insists the Church will die unless she adopts his innovations, the Church is dying because she has adopted his innovations. Spong must be aware of the wreckage and rot in his midst but cannot acknowledge it because doing so would be de facto admission he is in large part responsible. Instead, he blusters, bluffs and pretends: living in a world where it is perpetually 1976, where he, as a leader of the Church of rich, old-line WASPs, the Republican Party at prayer, is her prophet; crying out in the fairways the gospel of social justice. That world, of course, is long gone and the present world, to his consternation, increasingly passes him by. He continues cranking out book after book, all telling the same story and all bought by the same people whose numbers, however, owing to Father Time and flue epidemics, are declining precipitously.

So what is the self-centered Spong to do? It gets increasingly difficult for him to get the attention he craves; making outrageous theological pronouncements no longer does it, he's squeezed that lemon dry. Even his fans these days temper their praise of him by gently distancing themselves after proclaiming his brilliance. Poor fellow: he has become the tiresome drunk at a party who after long overstaying his welcome, ignored by the other guests, plants a lampshade on his head and starts singing, loudly and badly, his old college fight song. Once again he is the center of attention but only briefly as the other guests, appalled, politely excuse themselves and hurry out the door.

A Poor, Infirm, Weak, and Despised Old Man

I have tried to steer clear writing on the state of the Episcopal Church lately but an exception is in order in the case of the retired Bishop of Newark, John Shelby Spong. He recently issued a jeremiad against the Archbishop of Canterbury which is breathtaking in its rudeness and rant. Understandably, Anglican conservatives in this country are in an uproar. They ought not to be, it isn't worth it.

Spong is old. As Bishop of Newark he oversaw radical innovations which have pushed the diocese into a tailspin from which it has little chance of recovery. Calcified but ardent he continues preaching apostasies and seems not to notice at the same time he insists the Church will die unless she adopts his innovations, the Church is dying because she has adopted his innovations. Spong must be aware of the wreckage and rot in his midst but cannot acknowledge it because doing so would be de facto admission he is in large part responsible. Instead, he blusters, bluffs and pretends: living in a world where it is perpetually 1976, where he, as a leader of the Church of rich, old-line WASPs, the Republican Party at prayer, is her prophet; crying out in the fairways the gospel of social justice. That world, of course, is long gone and the present world, to his consternation, increasingly passes him by. He continues cranking out book after book, all telling the same story and all bought by the same people whose numbers, however, owing to Father Time and flue epidemics, are declining precipitously.

So what is the self-centered Spong to do? It gets increasingly difficult for him to get the attention he craves; making outrageous theological pronouncements no longer does it, he's squeezed that lemon dry. Even his fans these days temper their praise of him by gently distancing themselves after proclaiming his brilliance. Poor fellow: he has become the tiresome drunk at a party who after long overstaying his welcome, ignored by the other guests, plants a lampshade on his head and starts singing, loudly and badly, his old college fight song. Once again he is the center of attention but only briefly as the other guests, appalled, politely excuse themselves and hurry out the door.

Let Them Eat Tofu

I've written before of environmentalism being a quasi-religious cult for rich lefties and the latest evidence of that are the plenary environmental indulgences known as as carbon offsets. An outfit in England calling itself ClimateCare.org offers a quick and convenient way for the well-to-do to offset their size-16 carbon footprints by means of a variety of handy calculators to determine how much CO2 their activities generate. Calculated as well are the monetary costs necessary to obtain absolution. Click the checkout button, choose the payment method (most major credit cards accepted) and bingo, a donation is made to one of the many projects ClimateCare sponsors to sop up transgressions, a payment of the debt which the sinner owes to Gaia.

Of the many projects under the aegis of ClimateCare, one is truly a standout, revealing the true feelings environmentalists have for their fellow passengers on spaceship earth, particularly those who have to fly tourist. It's called the "Human Energy Project"and the mission is to . . . well, why not quote directly from the ClimateCare website:

Sometimes the best source of renewable energy is the human body itself. With some lateral thinking, and some simple materials, energy solutions can often be found which replace fossil fuels with muscle-power.

How it works

Every source of human energy will be different, and the number of applications are hugely varied. The example below is from our project in India promoting treadle pumps for irrigation, to replace [dirty] diesel power.

The treadle pump is a simple device which uses human power to pump water from wells, streams and lakes. One person - man, woman or even child - can operate the pump by manipulating his/her body weight on two treadles and by holding a bamboo or wooden frame for support. These pumps displace the diesel pumps that are more commonly used.

And there is the real genius of ClimateCare: not only does it offer well-off socialists in the west a salve for their consciences, due to extravagant living, by shaking them down for donations, the money is then used to dissuade (apparently through "lateral thinking," a pensive activity I confess I am not familiar with but assume is akin to re-education) the foolish notions of impoverished but uppity wogs they, too, can use use CO2-producing machinery to ease somewhat their grinding existences; notions that puts them at cross purposes with their betters by offsetting the offsets/indulgences they have so conscientiously purchased and must be, well, offset themselves. Friar Tetzel himself would doff his cowl in awe and admiration of such audacity.

Let Them Eat Tofu

I've written before of environmentalism being a quasi-religious cult for rich lefties and the latest evidence of that are the plenary environmental indulgences known as as carbon offsets. An outfit in England calling itself ClimateCare.org offers a quick and convenient way for the well-to-do to offset their size-16 carbon footprints by means of a variety of handy calculators to determine how much CO2 their activities generate. Calculated as well are the monetary costs necessary to obtain absolution. Click the checkout button, choose the payment method (most major credit cards accepted) and bingo, a donation is made to one of the many projects ClimateCare sponsors to sop up transgressions, a payment of the debt which the sinner owes to Gaia.

Of the many projects under the aegis of ClimateCare, one is truly a standout, revealing the true feelings environmentalists have for their fellow passengers on spaceship earth, particularly those who have to fly tourist. It's called the "Human Energy Project"and the mission is to . . . well, why not quote directly from the ClimateCare website:

Sometimes the best source of renewable energy is the human body itself. With some lateral thinking, and some simple materials, energy solutions can often be found which replace fossil fuels with muscle-power.

How it works

Every source of human energy will be different, and the number of applications are hugely varied. The example below is from our project in India promoting treadle pumps for irrigation, to replace [dirty] diesel power.

The treadle pump is a simple device which uses human power to pump water from wells, streams and lakes. One person - man, woman or even child - can operate the pump by manipulating his/her body weight on two treadles and by holding a bamboo or wooden frame for support. These pumps displace the diesel pumps that are more commonly used.

And there is the real genius of ClimateCare: not only does it offer well-off socialists in the west a salve for their consciences, due to extravagant living, by shaking them down for donations, the money is then used to dissuade (apparently through "lateral thinking," a pensive activity I confess I am not familiar with but assume is akin to re-education) the foolish notions of impoverished but uppity wogs they, too, can use use CO2-producing machinery to ease somewhat their grinding existences; notions that puts them at cross purposes with their betters by offsetting the offsets/indulgences they have so conscientiously purchased and must be, well, offset themselves. Friar Tetzel himself would doff his cowl in awe and admiration of such audacity.

Letting Sleeping Dogs Lie

The Queen of service workers Leona Helsmley, recently died, was laid to rest not long ago. Last week her will was read and not surprisingly, many of Mrs. Helmsley's survivors were stiffed (if you'll pardon the expression). There was, however, one glorious exception: Mrs. Helmsley's little dog Trouble who will soon be richer to the tune of $12 million thanks to a bequest from her late owner. Mrs. Helmsley, nobody's fool, may have had good reason to bestow upon her beloved poochie such a handsome sum. There may be a legal battle ahead to determine Trouble's final resting place.

In her will, Mrs. Helmsley directed upon Trouble's death the dog's remains be interred alongside the late Mr. and Mrs. Helmsley's. But there's trouble ahead: apparently most cemeteries have strict policies against the burial of animals in grounds intended for humans. The outfit that runs the cemetery where the late Harry and Leona reside have that policy and recently stated they have no intention violating it by entertaining the late Mrs. Helmsley's request. Mrs. Helmsley may be dead but her litigious spirit lives on; there will certainly be a lawsuit against the cemetery to force it to inter Trouble in the Helmsley tomb. I imagine most legal experts wouldn't give the lawsuit much chance of succeeding but I think it may have a fighting chance if plaintiffs invoke the old equitable doctrine of laches, sleeping on your rights. Plaintiff's counsel could correctly insist cemetery management's permitting its policy to be violated in the past nullifies any future attempts at its enforcement. How so, you might ask? By permitting Mrs. Helmsley to be buried on the cemetery grounds without protest, management surrenders its right to prohibit the bitch to be buried alongside her.

Letting Sleeping Dogs Lie

The Queen of service workers Leona Helsmley, recently died, was laid to rest not long ago. Last week her will was read and not surprisingly, many of Mrs. Helmsley's survivors were stiffed (if you'll pardon the expression). There was, however, one glorious exception: Mrs. Helmsley's little dog Trouble who will soon be richer to the tune of $12 million thanks to a bequest from her late owner. Mrs. Helmsley, nobody's fool, may have had good reason to bestow upon her beloved poochie such a handsome sum. There may be a legal battle ahead to determine Trouble's final resting place.

In her will, Mrs. Helmsley directed upon Trouble's death the dog's remains be interred alongside the late Mr. and Mrs. Helmsley's. But there's trouble ahead: apparently most cemeteries have strict policies against the burial of animals in grounds intended for humans. The outfit that runs the cemetery where the late Harry and Leona reside have that policy and recently stated they have no intention violating it by entertaining the late Mrs. Helmsley's request. Mrs. Helmsley may be dead but her litigious spirit lives on; there will certainly be a lawsuit against the cemetery to force it to inter Trouble in the Helmsley tomb. I imagine most legal experts wouldn't give the lawsuit much chance of succeeding but I think it may have a fighting chance if plaintiffs invoke the old equitable doctrine of laches, sleeping on your rights. Plaintiff's counsel could correctly insist cemetery management's permitting its policy to be violated in the past nullifies any future attempts at its enforcement. How so, you might ask? By permitting Mrs. Helmsley to be buried on the cemetery grounds without protest, management surrenders its right to prohibit the bitch to be buried alongside her.

Murderous Perfection

The usually estimable Ronald Radosh dropped the ball yesterday in the New York Sun when he shared a letter he received recently from the lefty folk icon Pete Seeger in response to Radosh's criticism of his old pal for keeping mum so many years on the treachery of Joseph Stalin. In the letter, Seeger, formerly (and likely still) a communist finally owns up Stalin might not have been such a swell guy after all and even goes so far as to admit, "I should have asked to see the gulags when I was in [the]USSR." Radosh thinks that's a big enough admission from Seeger to give him a pass.

I'm not so sure. Collectivism, i.e. communism, requires the subordination of the individual to the state in exchange for the putative promise of the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Most people, however, would rather not give up their individuality so the communist state must force them do so, beginning with persuasion via propaganda, followed by imprisonment and finally, if that fails, liquidation. Since communism cannot work unless all go along with the gag, Stalin can hardly be considered guilty of excess, merely the prosecution of Marxist-Leninist ideology with vigorous and, you might say, religious fervor. Mao and Pol Pot did exactly the same in later years.

For Seeger to denounce Stalin without denouncing communism is disingenuous. If he still believes in it he ought to recognize in order for it to obtain, the brutal methods used by Stalin have to be used, just as they are today in North Korea and Cuba. If he and others like-minded think one hundred percent literacy and universal (if mediocre--how many desperately ill people fly to those two countries for advanced treatments unavailable in the U.S.?) health care are worth the brutality necessary to bring it about, they ought come right out and say so. At the same time, they might also admit their belief in the singularly non-Catholic (but paradigmatically liberal Protestant) notion the perfectibility of man and its corollary, the possibility of heaven on earth, while acknowledging those goals may only be attainable by the liquidation of every last one of us.

Murderous Perfection

The usually estimable Ronald Radosh dropped the ball yesterday in the New York Sun when he shared a letter he received recently from the lefty folk icon Pete Seeger in response to Radosh's criticism of his old pal for keeping mum so many years on the treachery of Joseph Stalin. In the letter, Seeger, formerly (and likely still) a communist finally owns up Stalin might not have been such a swell guy after all and even goes so far as to admit, "I should have asked to see the gulags when I was in [the]USSR." Radosh thinks that's a big enough admission from Seeger to give him a pass.

I'm not so sure. Collectivism, i.e. communism, requires the subordination of the individual to the state in exchange for the putative promise of the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Most people, however, would rather not give up their individuality so the communist state must force them do so, beginning with persuasion via propaganda, followed by imprisonment and finally, if that fails, liquidation. Since communism cannot work unless all go along with the gag, Stalin can hardly be considered guilty of excess, merely the prosecution of Marxist-Leninist ideology with vigorous and, you might say, religious fervor. Mao and Pol Pot did exactly the same in later years.

For Seeger to denounce Stalin without denouncing communism is disingenuous. If he still believes in it he ought to recognize in order for it to obtain, the brutal methods used by Stalin have to be used, just as they are today in North Korea and Cuba. If he and others like-minded think one hundred percent literacy and universal (if mediocre--how many desperately ill people fly to those two countries for advanced treatments unavailable in the U.S.?) health care are worth the brutality necessary to bring it about, they ought come right out and say so. At the same time, they might also admit their belief in the singularly non-Catholic (but paradigmatically liberal Protestant) notion the perfectibility of man and its corollary, the possibility of heaven on earth, while acknowledging those goals may only be attainable by the liquidation of every last one of us.

Revisiting

Follows is an abridgement of a posting I made last November, its purpose made clear after it.

A commenter on Whitehall links to a piece in the Daily Mail (UK) about a bishop in the Church of England, the Rt. Rev'd Tom Butler of Southwark, who officially speaking for the Church proposes that doctors be allowed to let sick newborn babies die: that "there are occasions when it is compassionate to leave a severely disabled child to die." While this may seem a reasonable point of view to the compassionate, if casual, thinker, in reality it is a dangerous notion and, unfortunately, all of a piece of the New Religion: that God should serve the individual, not the other way around; that if a dogma results in suffering, the dogma is faulty and must be revised, for God does not intend for us (me) to suffer. Sorry, it doesn't work that way.

As Christians, we must believe life is a gift, the greatest gift, from God, as recounted in Genesis. If God is omniscient and omnipotent, as we believe Him to be, we cannot dictate the terms of His gift to us, otherwise we are questioning His supernal qualities and making Him one of us. If He really is one of us, however, we really don't need Him, do we? We can handle matters quite well without Him, can't we? If we do so, however, we are playing God ourselves, and unfortunately we are just not that good at it . . .

I have a cousin who was born paralyzed from the neck down but blessed (or cursed) with a first-class mind. The difficulty of her life I cannot begin to fathom but she bears her burden well and manages to possess a wicked sense of humor. Still, I wonder if +Butler, upon witnessing the protracted suffering my cousin has gone through in her life would think that it would have been better she had not been born or allowed to live. I hope, at least, he would ask her first.

My cousin died last week. In sixty-two years of an unimaginable life she put up with the damnably unfair hand she was dealt with nearly unfailing grace and good nature. In the end she may have decided (she never discussed it with anyone) she had had enough and stopped eating and, in her last days, drinking. Her caretakers had strict instructions not to use extraordinary actions to keep her alive when the end was near and they did not, much to their credit. Was what my cousin did wrong? It is beyond my ken and frankly I do not care, it is now in God's hands. I do know my cousin's life was a blessing and she touched many souls. At her behest the funeral will be held at the institution where she lived, she being much loved by the other residents as well as the staff. I also know I must offer thanks to almighty God for my cousin's life and pray for the repose of her soul. I do so as well as for my late aunt and uncle who, from the moment their only child was diagnosed in her infancy, devoted themselves at huge personal sacrifice to ensure a reasonably comfortable life for her when they were gone.

Thanks be to God for His creatures and for those who cherish them.

Revisiting

Follows is an abridgement of a posting I made last November, its purpose made clear after it.

A commenter on Whitehall links to a piece in the Daily Mail (UK) about a bishop in the Church of England, the Rt. Rev'd Tom Butler of Southwark, who officially speaking for the Church proposes that doctors be allowed to let sick newborn babies die: that "there are occasions when it is compassionate to leave a severely disabled child to die." While this may seem a reasonable point of view to the compassionate, if casual, thinker, in reality it is a dangerous notion and, unfortunately, all of a piece of the New Religion: that God should serve the individual, not the other way around; that if a dogma results in suffering, the dogma is faulty and must be revised, for God does not intend for us (me) to suffer. Sorry, it doesn't work that way.

As Christians, we must believe life is a gift, the greatest gift, from God, as recounted in Genesis. If God is omniscient and omnipotent, as we believe Him to be, we cannot dictate the terms of His gift to us, otherwise we are questioning His supernal qualities and making Him one of us. If He really is one of us, however, we really don't need Him, do we? We can handle matters quite well without Him, can't we? If we do so, however, we are playing God ourselves, and unfortunately we are just not that good at it . . .

I have a cousin who was born paralyzed from the neck down but blessed (or cursed) with a first-class mind. The difficulty of her life I cannot begin to fathom but she bears her burden well and manages to possess a wicked sense of humor. Still, I wonder if +Butler, upon witnessing the protracted suffering my cousin has gone through in her life would think that it would have been better she had not been born or allowed to live. I hope, at least, he would ask her first.

My cousin died last week. In sixty-two years of an unimaginable life she put up with the damnably unfair hand she was dealt with nearly unfailing grace and good nature. In the end she may have decided (she never discussed it with anyone) she had had enough and stopped eating and, in her last days, drinking. Her caretakers had strict instructions not to use extraordinary actions to keep her alive when the end was near and they did not, much to their credit. Was what my cousin did wrong? It is beyond my ken and frankly I do not care, it is now in God's hands. I do know my cousin's life was a blessing and she touched many souls. At her behest the funeral will be held at the institution where she lived, she being much loved by the other residents as well as the staff. I also know I must offer thanks to almighty God for my cousin's life and pray for the repose of her soul. I do so as well as for my late aunt and uncle who, from the moment their only child was diagnosed in her infancy, devoted themselves at huge personal sacrifice to ensure a reasonably comfortable life for her when they were gone.

Thanks be to God for His creatures and for those who cherish them.

Jonathan Swift and Warm Fashion Accessories

From the New York Sun:

For New Yorkers without the time, space, or willingness to commit to owning a dog, a new share program launching in Manhattan next month offers pets for rent.

Singles who don't own pets but want excuses to chat up dog lovers at city parks, for example, can break the ice with Jackpot, a midnight-black Labrador retriever billed as a "happy dog who loves everyone," who can be a best friend for a month, a week, or an hour. While researchers tout the positive impact of spending time with pets, the rent-a-dog program, FlexPetz, is seen as a "shocking" development by veterinarians, dog trainers, and longtime pet owners. Veterinarians say renting out dogs could inflict permanent damage to their psyches, as multiple owners could muddle their understanding of loyalty.

I can appreciate those concerns and trust the proprietors of FlexPetz will be sensitive to them, e.g. not hiring out a prize Manhattan purebred to a B&T from Broad Channel; the damage to the poor critter's self-esteem (the dog's, that is) could be catastrophic. With the risks carefully addressed, however, I think FlexPetz is a marvelous idea and one that could give rise to a wonderful and even bigger marketing opportunity: the leasing of children.

It may come as a surprise to those who don't live in Manhattan but these past few years children have been the latest fashion accessory among the hip and clever. They are, however, an accessory requiring heavy lifting and not all possess the considerable strength required. Consider the plight of the typical well-to-do couple living in Tribeca, say (by "couple" I refer to the quasi-archaic straight man and woman joined in Holy Matrimony but being Manhattan it can include any other pairings): both parties draw six-figured incomes and are socially active. They long to to spread their considerable largess spoiling progeny and showing them off at gallery openings but alas, the crushing demands of their busy lives, not just of their jobs but of daily gym workouts, pilates classes and sessions with the shrink permit nary a second to devote to such unpleasant and unrewarding tasks as feeding, bathing, dressing, diaper-changing etc. of little ones. Also, as is well known among Manhattan moms (if they happen to be women) childbirth can have devastating consequences to taut and expensive physiques. It may be the case the child-deprived couple may not earn quite enough to hire a surrogate birther and no matter how the kid is manufactured, there's no way in hell Mom and Dad are going to let a Spanish-accented nanny of questionable legality anywhere near the Manolo Blahniks and signed Andy Warhol lithographs.

With child leasing all those concerns are eliminated. For a reasonable down payment and monthly maintenance fee, a leasing agency will make available a broad line of attractive children of all races and colors (right now, Asians and Africans are the new black) for short-term leasing, as little as one hour. The service would include a 24-hour help desk, reachable by cell and Blackberry, for assistance dealing with the myriad problems that can arise with young children including the most dreaded of them all, meltdown. Should that assistance prove unavailing the agency will provide guaranteed 30-minute or less child replacement (within the Metropolitan area). The agency will conduct rigid screening procedures and while it may not be possible to guarantee problem-free infant hirelings, those that are found to be unsatisfactory will be quickly removed from the leasing pool.

The procurement of child-product would be accomplished by partnerships with leading environmental organizations and Planned Parenthood, consisting of generous payments to them as "child-offsets" and contracting with them to locate mothers with unwanted children to whom they would pay a portion of the payments in return for transfer of title to the children to the leasing companies.

There will be, of course, numerous other details to work out in this marketing concept but none that anyone with an MBA from an accredited institution couldn't work out. Quite frankly, I don't see a downside to it.

Jonathan Swift and Warm Fashion Accessories

From the New York Sun:

For New Yorkers without the time, space, or willingness to commit to owning a dog, a new share program launching in Manhattan next month offers pets for rent.

Singles who don't own pets but want excuses to chat up dog lovers at city parks, for example, can break the ice with Jackpot, a midnight-black Labrador retriever billed as a "happy dog who loves everyone," who can be a best friend for a month, a week, or an hour. While researchers tout the positive impact of spending time with pets, the rent-a-dog program, FlexPetz, is seen as a "shocking" development by veterinarians, dog trainers, and longtime pet owners. Veterinarians say renting out dogs could inflict permanent damage to their psyches, as multiple owners could muddle their understanding of loyalty.

I can appreciate those concerns and trust the proprietors of FlexPetz will be sensitive to them, e.g. not hiring out a prize Manhattan purebred to a B&T from Broad Channel; the damage to the poor critter's self-esteem (the dog's, that is) could be catastrophic. With the risks carefully addressed, however, I think FlexPetz is a marvelous idea and one that could give rise to a wonderful and even bigger marketing opportunity: the leasing of children.

It may come as a surprise to those who don't live in Manhattan but these past few years children have been the latest fashion accessory among the hip and clever. They are, however, an accessory requiring heavy lifting and not all possess the considerable strength required. Consider the plight of the typical well-to-do couple living in Tribeca, say (by "couple" I refer to the quasi-archaic straight man and woman joined in Holy Matrimony but being Manhattan it can include any other pairings): both parties draw six-figured incomes and are socially active. They long to to spread their considerable largess spoiling progeny and showing them off at gallery openings but alas, the crushing demands of their busy lives, not just of their jobs but of daily gym workouts, pilates classes and sessions with the shrink permit nary a second to devote to such unpleasant and unrewarding tasks as feeding, bathing, dressing, diaper-changing etc. of little ones. Also, as is well known among Manhattan moms (if they happen to be women) childbirth can have devastating consequences to taut and expensive physiques. It may be the case the child-deprived couple may not earn quite enough to hire a surrogate birther and no matter how the kid is manufactured, there's no way in hell Mom and Dad are going to let a Spanish-accented nanny of questionable legality anywhere near the Manolo Blahniks and signed Andy Warhol lithographs.

With child leasing all those concerns are eliminated. For a reasonable down payment and monthly maintenance fee, a leasing agency will make available a broad line of attractive children of all races and colors (right now, Asians and Africans are the new black) for short-term leasing, as little as one hour. The service would include a 24-hour help desk, reachable by cell and Blackberry, for assistance dealing with the myriad problems that can arise with young children including the most dreaded of them all, meltdown. Should that assistance prove unavailing the agency will provide guaranteed 30-minute or less child replacement (within the Metropolitan area). The agency will conduct rigid screening procedures and while it may not be possible to guarantee problem-free infant hirelings, those that are found to be unsatisfactory will be quickly removed from the leasing pool.

The procurement of child-product would be accomplished by partnerships with leading environmental organizations and Planned Parenthood, consisting of generous payments to them as "child-offsets" and contracting with them to locate mothers with unwanted children to whom they would pay a portion of the payments in return for transfer of title to the children to the leasing companies.

There will be, of course, numerous other details to work out in this marketing concept but none that anyone with an MBA from an accredited institution couldn't work out. Quite frankly, I don't see a downside to it.

Transcendent Idiocies

A cautious reminder: Those distressed over the bumper crop of idiots sprouting from the fertile grounds of the Episcopal Church and considering taking the Tiberian swim should be aware the fruited (fruity?) plains of the Holy Catholic Church can be just as fecund. Consider this item from Europe: a Dutch RC Bishop is calling upon Catholics to "use the name Allah for God to ease tensions between Muslims and Christians." The last time I checked non-Muslims still outnumbered Muslims by a considerable margin in the Netherlands and thus it seems we should be asking the Muslims to call Allah God, but hell, I'm game, let's all call Him Allah and give the fool Bishop his Nobel prize.

By the way, we’re always seeing media references to the "tensions" between Muslims and Christians. Well, perhaps but there’s a subtle yet distinct difference the form the tensions suffered by the two entities take that requires clarification: Muslims' tensions are the very real urge to murder us all, every one (including Christians). Christians' tensions are the very real fear the Muslims' urge to murder us all, every one (including Christians). There now, is that clear?

(Thanks to Bro. Rob)

Transcendent Idiocies

A cautious reminder: Those distressed over the bumper crop of idiots sprouting from the fertile grounds of the Episcopal Church and considering taking the Tiberian swim should be aware the fruited (fruity?) plains of the Holy Catholic Church can be just as fecund. Consider this item from Europe: a Dutch RC Bishop is calling upon Catholics to "use the name Allah for God to ease tensions between Muslims and Christians." The last time I checked non-Muslims still outnumbered Muslims by a considerable margin in the Netherlands and thus it seems we should be asking the Muslims to call Allah God, but hell, I'm game, let's all call Him Allah and give the fool Bishop his Nobel prize.

By the way, we’re always seeing media references to the "tensions" between Muslims and Christians. Well, perhaps but there’s a subtle yet distinct difference the form the tensions suffered by the two entities take that requires clarification: Muslims' tensions are the very real urge to murder us all, every one (including Christians). Christians' tensions are the very real fear the Muslims' urge to murder us all, every one (including Christians). There now, is that clear?

(Thanks to Bro. Rob)

End Days for Anglo-Catholicism?

A while back, following the motu proprio issued by Pope Benedict XVI that considerably eases the restrictions on use of the 1962 Missal for celebrating Mass, along with a steady stream of hints from his Holiness suggesting the time for innovation has come to an end, I asked rhetorically whether the time for Anglo-Catholics had also come to an end, whether they should consider embracing the fullness of the Faith. Recently, one prominent Anglican gave answer to the question: according to the Living Church, the Rt. Rev'd Clarence Pope, retired bishop of the Diocese of Fort Worth, an Anglo-Catholic stronghold, has announced he has left the Episcopal Church for the Roman Catholic Church. While it is not particularly earthshaking for someone from Fort Worth departing for Rome, what is surprising about his Grace Clarence’s move is, this is the second time he has done it.

Thirteen years ago, Bishop Pope (yes, I am a grownup and will try to refrain making stupid jokes), distressed with the way things were going in the Episcopal Church, took the swim and was received by Bernard Francis Cardinal Law. Owing to shabby treatment from the RC Diocese of Louisiana, where he was denied entry to the priesthood, along with illness and depression, he was lured back into the Anglican fold just a year later in 1995. Now Pope has re-poped (sorry, that one just slipped out of me), this time, presumably, for good. He has a bleak outlook for the future of Catholicism in the Episcopal Church saying, “Doctrinal changes concerning holy matrimony, holy orders, and matters of sexual morality have put the Episcopal Church outside the limits of the Vincentian Canon, and marginalize everyone within it from the Catholic world.”

No kidding. In addition to being marginalized, people don’t realize how small a proportion the Episcopal Church comprises traditional Anglo-Catholics (not to be confused with so-called “affirming” Catholics: Unitarians who love vestments and smoke but only when it doesn't come from tobacco), there are perhaps 25,000 to 50,000 of us. Whichever the alphabet soup organizations of apostates of the apostates ends up taking the place of the Episcopal Church in the aftermath of its inevitable crash and burn, it will likely be dominated by former low-church Protestants, many of whom actually embrace what traditional Catholics deplore: the “ordination” of women, the dumbing down of the Prayer Book, God-awful “praise music” and of course and most objectionable, Calvinistic doctrine. Finding themselves so outnumbered, traditional Anglo-Catholics may find it incumbent to remove themselves to a friendlier and more sympathetic institution: the one in Rome, which for all its myriad woes, some of which experienced by Bishop Pope, not altering his outlook, but unlike its Anglican counterpart is on the mend under the sure guidance of Benedict XVI and surely the logical place for those who call themselves “Catholic.”

End Days for Anglo-Catholicism?

A while back, following the motu proprio issued by Pope Benedict XVI that considerably eases the restrictions on use of the 1962 Missal for celebrating Mass, along with a steady stream of hints from his Holiness suggesting the time for innovation has come to an end, I asked rhetorically whether the time for Anglo-Catholics had also come to an end, whether they should consider embracing the fullness of the Faith. Recently, one prominent Anglican gave answer to the question: according to the Living Church, the Rt. Rev'd Clarence Pope, retired bishop of the Diocese of Fort Worth, an Anglo-Catholic stronghold, has announced he has left the Episcopal Church for the Roman Catholic Church. While it is not particularly earthshaking for someone from Fort Worth departing for Rome, what is surprising about his Grace Clarence’s move is, this is the second time he has done it.

Thirteen years ago, Bishop Pope (yes, I am a grownup and will try to refrain making stupid jokes), distressed with the way things were going in the Episcopal Church, took the swim and was received by Bernard Francis Cardinal Law. Owing to shabby treatment from the RC Diocese of Louisiana, where he was denied entry to the priesthood, along with illness and depression, he was lured back into the Anglican fold just a year later in 1995. Now Pope has re-poped (sorry, that one just slipped out of me), this time, presumably, for good. He has a bleak outlook for the future of Catholicism in the Episcopal Church saying, “Doctrinal changes concerning holy matrimony, holy orders, and matters of sexual morality have put the Episcopal Church outside the limits of the Vincentian Canon, and marginalize everyone within it from the Catholic world.”

No kidding. In addition to being marginalized, people don’t realize how small a proportion the Episcopal Church comprises traditional Anglo-Catholics (not to be confused with so-called “affirming” Catholics: Unitarians who love vestments and smoke but only when it doesn't come from tobacco), there are perhaps 25,000 to 50,000 of us. Whichever the alphabet soup organizations of apostates of the apostates ends up taking the place of the Episcopal Church in the aftermath of its inevitable crash and burn, it will likely be dominated by former low-church Protestants, many of whom actually embrace what traditional Catholics deplore: the “ordination” of women, the dumbing down of the Prayer Book, God-awful “praise music” and of course and most objectionable, Calvinistic doctrine. Finding themselves so outnumbered, traditional Anglo-Catholics may find it incumbent to remove themselves to a friendlier and more sympathetic institution: the one in Rome, which for all its myriad woes, some of which experienced by Bishop Pope, not altering his outlook, but unlike its Anglican counterpart is on the mend under the sure guidance of Benedict XVI and surely the logical place for those who call themselves “Catholic.”

You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up

From the "Organizational Effectiveness Plan" just announced by the Episcopal Church: "The purpose of the Episcopal Church Center is to further God’s mission, interpreted by the General Convention."

(h/t MCJ)

You Just Can't Make This Stuff Up

From the "Organizational Effectiveness Plan" just announced by the Episcopal Church: "The purpose of the Episcopal Church Center is to further God’s mission, interpreted by the General Convention."

(h/t MCJ)

Competent Authority

Comes word last Thursday, the Rt. Rev'd Gene Robinson, the Bishop of New Hampshire, endorsed Barack Obama's bid for the presidency. The reaction has been muted so far, probably because few members of the media have picked up the story. No doubt many of my conservative colleagues will make much hay over this, accusing the media of a double standard by not jumping all over Obama for receiving an endorsement from a religious organization, comparing it with the media's hysterical shrieks three years ago when Jerry Falwell endorsed George Bush.

Not at all, not at all, I say. The media, by ignoring the endorsement of a political candidate by a representative of the Episcopal Church are simply recognizing what many of us have believed for years: the Episcopal Church is not a religious organization. And just as the judge in "Miracle on 34th Street" was, to his relief, able to rule Kris Kringle the real Santa Claus owing to a "competent authority," the U.S.Post Office, recognizing he was, I am, to my relief, able to dismiss any lingering notions the Episcopal Church is a religious organization, owing to competent authorities like the New York Times tacitly recognizing it is not.

(h/t Creative Minority Report)

Competent Authority

Comes word last Thursday, the Rt. Rev'd Gene Robinson, the Bishop of New Hampshire, endorsed Barack Obama's bid for the presidency. The reaction has been muted so far, probably because few members of the media have picked up the story. No doubt many of my conservative colleagues will make much hay over this, accusing the media of a double standard by not jumping all over Obama for receiving an endorsement from a religious organization, comparing it with the media's hysterical shrieks three years ago when Jerry Falwell endorsed George Bush.

Not at all, not at all, I say. The media, by ignoring the endorsement of a political candidate by a representative of the Episcopal Church are simply recognizing what many of us have believed for years: the Episcopal Church is not a religious organization. And just as the judge in "Miracle on 34th Street" was, to his relief, able to rule Kris Kringle the real Santa Claus owing to a "competent authority," the U.S.Post Office, recognizing he was, I am, to my relief, able to dismiss any lingering notions the Episcopal Church is a religious organization, owing to competent authorities like the New York Times tacitly recognizing it is not.

(h/t Creative Minority Report)

Oh, the Horror

A mime Mass in Switzerland, where they have too much money and too little to do.

(Thanks, I think, to Gerald at The Cafeteria is Closed.)

Oh, the Horror

A mime Mass in Switzerland, where they have too much money and too little to do.

(Thanks, I think, to Gerald at The Cafeteria is Closed.)