There are Still Old-Fashioned Protestants in Northern Ireland

From the Independent:

A music video shoot proved too raunchy for a farmer, who called a halt to filming on his land over the singer's "inappropriate" attire.

The Bahamian pop star Rihanna stripped down to a red and white bikini top and jeans in a barley field near Bangor in Northern Ireland on Monday, prompting landowner Alan Graham to intervene.

"I realised things had got to a stage which were not acceptable to me," said the 61-year-old, who holds strong Christian beliefs. "Things became inappropriate and I asked the film crew to stop."

And they did, to their credit.

Mr Graham said he had not heard of Rihanna, 23, before her representatives requested the use of his 60-acre farm at Clandeboye.

"Someone explained she was as big as it gets as far as pop stars were concerned," said the father of four. "I am a bit illiterate about those issues."

You and me both, pal. Isn't she the one with a no-good-bum boyfriend who gets his jollies whacking her?

He hoped the singer understood where he was coming from.

"We had a conversation. We shook hands and parted company on good terms.

He seems like a decent chap.

"I wish no ill will against Rihanna and her friends. Perhaps they could acquaint themselves with a greater God."

'Twould be nice but I wouldn't hold your breath, sir.

There are Still Old-Fashioned Protestants in Northern Ireland

From the Independent:

A music video shoot proved too raunchy for a farmer, who called a halt to filming on his land over the singer's "inappropriate" attire.

The Bahamian pop star Rihanna stripped down to a red and white bikini top and jeans in a barley field near Bangor in Northern Ireland on Monday, prompting landowner Alan Graham to intervene.

"I realised things had got to a stage which were not acceptable to me," said the 61-year-old, who holds strong Christian beliefs. "Things became inappropriate and I asked the film crew to stop."

And they did, to their credit.

Mr Graham said he had not heard of Rihanna, 23, before her representatives requested the use of his 60-acre farm at Clandeboye.

"Someone explained she was as big as it gets as far as pop stars were concerned," said the father of four. "I am a bit illiterate about those issues."

You and me both, pal. Isn't she the one with a no-good-bum boyfriend who gets his jollies whacking her?

He hoped the singer understood where he was coming from.

"We had a conversation. We shook hands and parted company on good terms.

He seems like a decent chap.

"I wish no ill will against Rihanna and her friends. Perhaps they could acquaint themselves with a greater God."

'Twould be nice but I wouldn't hold your breath, sir.

Expunging the "C" Word

Back in the 'sixties there was a game show called You Don't Say! (whose host, Tom Kennedy, may well have been toothiest game show host in history, though with much competition, especially from the legendary Wink Martindale). In any event, Mr. Kennedy would always open (or close, I don't remember) the program with the pithy adage: "Remember, it's not what you say that counts, it's what you don't say!" Said pithy adage came to mind today upon learning, via the Cardinal Newman Society, a recent study found that on the home pages of Catholic college websites, more that 60% of them don’t identify the institution as being Catholic. It's as if they're embarrassed by it, or ashamed of it, or annoyed by it or worry they may scare off the atheists and the Moslems. Whatever.

In the end, however, those reticent Catholic colleges provide a useful service by their coyness. Prospective applicants (or their parents) who consider themselves orthodox may pretty much learn all they need to know about a putatively Catholic college and the sort of education it might offer if it is too squeamish to give even a cursory nod to the institution responsible for its very existence. They may safely click away from that site and look elsewhere. Should save them a lot of time.

Expunging the "C" Word

Back in the 'sixties there was a game show called You Don't Say! (whose host, Tom Kennedy, may well have been toothiest game show host in history, though with much competition, especially from the legendary Wink Martindale). In any event, Mr. Kennedy would always open (or close, I don't remember) the program with the pithy adage: "Remember, it's not what you say that counts, it's what you don't say!" Said pithy adage came to mind today upon learning, via the Cardinal Newman Society, a recent study found that on the home pages of Catholic college websites, more that 60% of them don’t identify the institution as being Catholic. It's as if they're embarrassed by it, or ashamed of it, or annoyed by it or worry they may scare off the atheists and the Moslems. Whatever.

In the end, however, those reticent Catholic colleges provide a useful service by their coyness. Prospective applicants (or their parents) who consider themselves orthodox may pretty much learn all they need to know about a putatively Catholic college and the sort of education it might offer if it is too squeamish to give even a cursory nod to the institution responsible for its very existence. They may safely click away from that site and look elsewhere. Should save them a lot of time.

St. Omobono* Pray for Us

In the opening scene of the moving and terribly sad Clint Eastwood picture, Gran Torino, the protagonist, Walt Kowalski, attending his wife's funeral, looks with utter disgust upon his grandchildren as they pile into the pews, all of them dressed atrociously (one of them wearing a Detroit Lions football jersey, if memory serves). I watched that picture shortly after I was received into the Catholic Church and I must say my heart went out to Walt Kawalski.

That too many Catholics dress horribly (and often behave likewise) at Mass is a painful fact. My least favorite way of fulfilling my obligation, when I can't make the Latin Mass at Holy Innocents in Manhattan, is at my local Bronx parish's 5 p.m. Sunday Mass. A Catholic friend once instructed me to avoid at all costs Saturday Vigil Masses because liturgy and deportment are usually at their nadir in them. Not so, at my local parish. While the Saturday Vigil is certainly dreadful enough, the men and women attending it at least seem to take pains to don their very best tank tops and short-shorts. Sunday evening, things are far more casual, anything goes.

Now, I am happy to report, a Catholic deacon has had enough and is striking back:

Deacon Greg Kandra was well aware that modern Americans were getting more casual and that these laid-back attitudes were filtering into Catholic pews.

Still, was that woman who was approaching the altar to receive Holy Communion really wearing a Hooters shirt?

Yes, she was.

When did Catholics, he thought to himself, start coming to Mass dressed for a Britney Spears concert? Had he missed a memo or something?

"Somewhere along the way, we went from neckties to tank tops, and from fasting to fast food. And it's getting worse," noted Kandra, a former CBS News writer with 26 years, two Emmys and two Peabody Awards to his credit. He is now a deacon assigned to Our Lady Queen of Martyrs, a 3,000-member parish in Forest Hills, just north of New York City...

After the Hooters incident, he decided it was time to stop whining about the rising tide of irreverence and immodesty and to start griping about it right out in the open. Thus, Kandra and the parish's other clergy have resorted to appealing — in the parish bulletin and in public remarks — for a hint of sanity or even some old-fashioned decorum.

One bulletin item proclaimed, with a gag headline: "PLANS FOR PARISH SWIMMING POOL SCRAPPED! After much study, our finance committee has determined it would not be feasible to construct an indoor swimming pool in our church. ... As a result, we can now announce with certainty that those who have been arriving for Mass as if dressed for the pool need not do so. Also, we hope to keep the air conditioning cranking all summer long. So you do not need to wear shorts, halter tops or bikinis to Mass."

While I wish the good Deacon Kandra well, I don't hope out much hope for his success. I suspect Catholics will only dress better for church when the liturgy reflects the gravity of what is being re-enacted. When our clergy treat the death and resurrection of Our Lord in the casual way found in most Catholic Churches these days, the people will dress and act the part. Too bad, because their dress and manner no doubt reflects their attitude.

Many years before my conversion, I invited another Catholic friend of mine to attend Ash Wednesday services with me at my then Episcopal parish. It was not a particularly "high" church but they did take great care (and still do) that the Anglican liturgy (using the old 1928 Prayer Book) was done to the letter and spirit of the rubrics. My Catholic friend was duly impressed, not only by the liturgy and music but also by dignified manner of the congregants, not everyone dressed to the nines, perhaps, but respectably at least, looking as if they gave a damn--which they did.

*Patron saint of tailors.

St. Omobono* Pray for Us

In the opening scene of the moving and terribly sad Clint Eastwood picture, Gran Torino, the protagonist, Walt Kowalski, attending his wife's funeral, looks with utter disgust upon his grandchildren as they pile into the pews, all of them dressed atrociously (one of them wearing a Detroit Lions football jersey, if memory serves). I watched that picture shortly after I was received into the Catholic Church and I must say my heart went out to Walt Kawalski.

That too many Catholics dress horribly (and often behave likewise) at Mass is a painful fact. My least favorite way of fulfilling my obligation, when I can't make the Latin Mass at Holy Innocents in Manhattan, is at my local Bronx parish's 5 p.m. Sunday Mass. A Catholic friend once instructed me to avoid at all costs Saturday Vigil Masses because liturgy and deportment are usually at their nadir in them. Not so, at my local parish. While the Saturday Vigil is certainly dreadful enough, the men and women attending it at least seem to take pains to don their very best tank tops and short-shorts. Sunday evening, things are far more casual, anything goes.

Now, I am happy to report, a Catholic deacon has had enough and is striking back:

Deacon Greg Kandra was well aware that modern Americans were getting more casual and that these laid-back attitudes were filtering into Catholic pews.

Still, was that woman who was approaching the altar to receive Holy Communion really wearing a Hooters shirt?

Yes, she was.

When did Catholics, he thought to himself, start coming to Mass dressed for a Britney Spears concert? Had he missed a memo or something?

"Somewhere along the way, we went from neckties to tank tops, and from fasting to fast food. And it's getting worse," noted Kandra, a former CBS News writer with 26 years, two Emmys and two Peabody Awards to his credit. He is now a deacon assigned to Our Lady Queen of Martyrs, a 3,000-member parish in Forest Hills, just north of New York City...

After the Hooters incident, he decided it was time to stop whining about the rising tide of irreverence and immodesty and to start griping about it right out in the open. Thus, Kandra and the parish's other clergy have resorted to appealing — in the parish bulletin and in public remarks — for a hint of sanity or even some old-fashioned decorum.

One bulletin item proclaimed, with a gag headline: "PLANS FOR PARISH SWIMMING POOL SCRAPPED! After much study, our finance committee has determined it would not be feasible to construct an indoor swimming pool in our church. ... As a result, we can now announce with certainty that those who have been arriving for Mass as if dressed for the pool need not do so. Also, we hope to keep the air conditioning cranking all summer long. So you do not need to wear shorts, halter tops or bikinis to Mass."

While I wish the good Deacon Kandra well, I don't hope out much hope for his success. I suspect Catholics will only dress better for church when the liturgy reflects the gravity of what is being re-enacted. When our clergy treat the death and resurrection of Our Lord in the casual way found in most Catholic Churches these days, the people will dress and act the part. Too bad, because their dress and manner no doubt reflects their attitude.

Many years before my conversion, I invited another Catholic friend of mine to attend Ash Wednesday services with me at my then Episcopal parish. It was not a particularly "high" church but they did take great care (and still do) that the Anglican liturgy (using the old 1928 Prayer Book) was done to the letter and spirit of the rubrics. My Catholic friend was duly impressed, not only by the liturgy and music but also by dignified manner of the congregants, not everyone dressed to the nines, perhaps, but respectably at least, looking as if they gave a damn--which they did.

*Patron saint of tailors.

Back to the Future

I have been regularly attending the Sunday 10 a.m. Missa Cantata at the Church of the Holy Innocents, in Manhattan's garment district, since the church started celebrating it late last year. Holy Innocents had already been celebrating a daily Latin Mass on weekdays for some time. With the addition of the Sunday Sung Mass, it could well be the only Catholic church in the country offering a Tridentine Mass every day.  Let us pray that is infectious.

And it could be: the first few Sung Masses at H.I. one could count the number of worshipers on one hand--two hands, if the weather was fine--but the number seems to have risen with each passing week. Fr. Kallumady, the pastor, has certainly noticed that and today he made grateful mention of the increased numbers in his homily. It is all the more gratifying since H.I. is not located in a residential neighborhood and most people attending Mass there must go through at least some trouble to get to the church (including your Bloviator). Interestingly, young worshipers seem to outnumber oldsters like myself, some of those young being of a decidedly "hipster" bent. I wonder if their attending the Tridentine Mass is in at least partial reaction to being subjected to the excruciating post-Vatican II "reforms" when they were growing up? That works for me and the irony of seemingly trendy young people turning up their noses at stale contemporary worship practices, whose grayed-haired proponents insist to this day are essential to attracting them to Mass, is delicious indeed.

Back to the Future

I have been regularly attending the Sunday 10 a.m. Missa Cantata at the Church of the Holy Innocents, in Manhattan's garment district, since the church started celebrating it late last year. Holy Innocents had already been celebrating a daily Latin Mass on weekdays for some time. With the addition of the Sunday Sung Mass, it could well be the only Catholic church in the country offering a Tridentine Mass every day.  Let us pray that is infectious.

And it could be: the first few Sung Masses at H.I. one could count the number of worshipers on one hand--two hands, if the weather was fine--but the number seems to have risen with each passing week. Fr. Kallumady, the pastor, has certainly noticed that and today he made grateful mention of the increased numbers in his homily. It is all the more gratifying since H.I. is not located in a residential neighborhood and most people attending Mass there must go through at least some trouble to get to the church (including your Bloviator). Interestingly, young worshipers seem to outnumber oldsters like myself, some of those young being of a decidedly "hipster" bent. I wonder if their attending the Tridentine Mass is in at least partial reaction to being subjected to the excruciating post-Vatican II "reforms" when they were growing up? That works for me and the irony of seemingly trendy young people turning up their noses at stale contemporary worship practices, whose grayed-haired proponents insist to this day are essential to attracting them to Mass, is delicious indeed.

I Rekkin That's a Purdy Good 'Murkin Accent Ya Got Thar, Pardner.

Go to the Telegraph and be amused at the photo essay: "When British Accents Go Bad," a compendium of movies set in in the UK with non-Brits, mostly Americans, cast as British characters, and whose mangling of Blighty patois is rightly described as "cringe-worthy." The Telegraph's picks are spot-on (you might say). There is, however, a crying need for the logical sequel to this piece: "When American Accents Go Bad," which gives us examples non-Americans having a go at American accents, with equally egregious results.

There are oh-so-many possible nominations for the dubious honor roll but I offer just one, the BBC's adaptation of Anthony Trollope's "The Way We Live Now," which nicely illustrates British cinema's propensity for assuming all Americans speak in laughably bad southern accents, regardless whence in America the characters may hale, which in this case is Kansas (Mrs. Hurtle) and California (Hamilton K. Fisker). Neither of the actors playing the parts are British; Miranda Otto is Australian, Michael Riley is Canadian (and should know better). The absurd and amateurish accents they effect must have been at the behest of the series' director, David Yates. Well, yippee ki-yay, old chap!

Readers on both sides of the pond are encouraged to offer their own pain-inducing examples of bad American accents in British flicks.

I Rekkin That's a Purdy Good 'Murkin Accent Ya Got Thar, Pardner.

Go to the Telegraph and be amused at the photo essay: "When British Accents Go Bad," a compendium of movies set in in the UK with non-Brits, mostly Americans, cast as British characters, and whose mangling of Blighty patois is rightly described as "cringe-worthy." The Telegraph's picks are spot-on (you might say). There is, however, a crying need for the logical sequel to this piece: "When American Accents Go Bad," which gives us examples non-Americans having a go at American accents, with equally egregious results.

There are oh-so-many possible nominations for the dubious honor roll but I offer just one, the BBC's adaptation of Anthony Trollope's "The Way We Live Now," which nicely illustrates British cinema's propensity for assuming all Americans speak in laughably bad southern accents, regardless whence in America the characters may hale, which in this case is Kansas (Mrs. Hurtle) and California (Hamilton K. Fisker). Neither of the actors playing the parts are British; Miranda Otto is Australian, Michael Riley is Canadian (and should know better). The absurd and amateurish accents they effect must have been at the behest of the series' director, David Yates. Well, yippee ki-yay, old chap!

Readers on both sides of the pond are encouraged to offer their own pain-inducing examples of bad American accents in British flicks.

"This was the Moment when the Rise of the Oceans Began to Slow"

From the Agence France-Presse:

Obama takes charge at hurricane command center

President Obama, just informed there are no more copies of the official NOAA coloring book.

(h/t Instapundit)

"This was the Moment when the Rise of the Oceans Began to Slow"

From the Agence France-Presse:

Obama takes charge at hurricane command center

President Obama, just informed there are no more copies of the official NOAA coloring book.

(h/t Instapundit)

No Longer Clinging to Their Religion

A study was presented Saturday at the annual convention of the American Sociological Association in Las Vegas that had a possibly surprising finding. It seems while church attendance has declined in this country since the 1970s (no surprise there), "the rate of decline has been more than twice as high for less educated, lower and lower-middle class whites compared to more educated and presumably more affluent whites..." (the study was limited only to whites because church attendance among other ethnic groups is fairly consistent regardless their socio-economic status).

In the last four decades, monthly (or more) participation in religious services dropped from 50 percent of moderately educated (high school and perhaps some college) whites to 37 percent, according to the study, “No Money, No Honey, No Church: The Deinstitutionalization of Religious Life Among the White Working Class.” Attendance by the least educated (high school dropouts) dropped from 38 percent to 23 percent, by sociologists Wilcox, of the University of Virginia and Andrew Cherlin of Johns Hopkins University found.

Church attendance by higher-income whites with at least a bachelor’s degree barely dipped, from 50 percent to 46 percent.

The study's two authors, one conservative, the other liberal, offer various explanations for this curious dichotomy but none seem terribly persuasive to me. I wonder if it might be something else: the insufferably smug liberalism that supplanted mainstream protestant theology over the past forty years (and came close doing similarly in the Catholic Church) being mostly owned by upper and upper-middle class elites, could it be the working stiffs in the in the pews, having had their fill of sneering condescension from their social betters and after enduring countless sermons on "economic justice" and the like, have decided it is not worth the bother rousing themselves on Sunday mornings to go to church and be scolded, better to simply stay at home instead?

No Longer Clinging to Their Religion

A study was presented Saturday at the annual convention of the American Sociological Association in Las Vegas that had a possibly surprising finding. It seems while church attendance has declined in this country since the 1970s (no surprise there), "the rate of decline has been more than twice as high for less educated, lower and lower-middle class whites compared to more educated and presumably more affluent whites..." (the study was limited only to whites because church attendance among other ethnic groups is fairly consistent regardless their socio-economic status).

In the last four decades, monthly (or more) participation in religious services dropped from 50 percent of moderately educated (high school and perhaps some college) whites to 37 percent, according to the study, “No Money, No Honey, No Church: The Deinstitutionalization of Religious Life Among the White Working Class.” Attendance by the least educated (high school dropouts) dropped from 38 percent to 23 percent, by sociologists Wilcox, of the University of Virginia and Andrew Cherlin of Johns Hopkins University found.

Church attendance by higher-income whites with at least a bachelor’s degree barely dipped, from 50 percent to 46 percent.

The study's two authors, one conservative, the other liberal, offer various explanations for this curious dichotomy but none seem terribly persuasive to me. I wonder if it might be something else: the insufferably smug liberalism that supplanted mainstream protestant theology over the past forty years (and came close doing similarly in the Catholic Church) being mostly owned by upper and upper-middle class elites, could it be the working stiffs in the in the pews, having had their fill of sneering condescension from their social betters and after enduring countless sermons on "economic justice" and the like, have decided it is not worth the bother rousing themselves on Sunday mornings to go to church and be scolded, better to simply stay at home instead?

Marching for Truth and Just Intonation

Meet the 21st Century equivalent of the folk song army: the radical harpsichordist! In Oakland, California, no less. In a venue called "Humanist Hall," no less.

La Revolution is a harpsichord recital and lecture that works to inspire the audience to take immediate action in dealing with our economic crisis and global disasters. Early music performer and political activist, Vibeka Lyman, has probed the concept of what it takes for people to act politically and after spending a year in France, she has returned with some convincing ideas. Experiencing the culture, where strikes are a regular occurrence, she came to realize that freedom to express ones emotions, including anger, is needed for people to hit the streets...

Ms. Lyman believes the theory that events that unleash emotion in society such as the grocer, Mohammed Bouazizi, in Tunisia who set himself on fire, that brought on the Egyptian revolution, are what it takes for a strike to take place. She hopes that her concert, a dynamic performance of composers: Couperin, Chambonnieres, Scarlatti, Froberger, and Johann Sebastian Bach, will create such an experience in her listeners. Vibeka has performed on the keyboard for over 30 years and has experience with learning with some of the best teachers in the Bay Area and in Paris. Baroque music has been scientifically proven to heighten creative thought in the brain, and this concert is an effort to enhance people's thinking as well as their enjoyment.

Comrades! After a well-deserved sentence to music re-education camp I now proclaim that equal temperament is the preferred, more progressive tuning system; not the regressive and counter-revolutionary just intonation system with its reactionary bourgeois pure intervals!

Thanks to the PJ Tatler.

Marching for Truth and Just Intonation

Meet the 21st Century equivalent of the folk song army: the radical harpsichordist! In Oakland, California, no less. In a venue called "Humanist Hall," no less.

La Revolution is a harpsichord recital and lecture that works to inspire the audience to take immediate action in dealing with our economic crisis and global disasters. Early music performer and political activist, Vibeka Lyman, has probed the concept of what it takes for people to act politically and after spending a year in France, she has returned with some convincing ideas. Experiencing the culture, where strikes are a regular occurrence, she came to realize that freedom to express ones emotions, including anger, is needed for people to hit the streets...

Ms. Lyman believes the theory that events that unleash emotion in society such as the grocer, Mohammed Bouazizi, in Tunisia who set himself on fire, that brought on the Egyptian revolution, are what it takes for a strike to take place. She hopes that her concert, a dynamic performance of composers: Couperin, Chambonnieres, Scarlatti, Froberger, and Johann Sebastian Bach, will create such an experience in her listeners. Vibeka has performed on the keyboard for over 30 years and has experience with learning with some of the best teachers in the Bay Area and in Paris. Baroque music has been scientifically proven to heighten creative thought in the brain, and this concert is an effort to enhance people's thinking as well as their enjoyment.

Comrades! After a well-deserved sentence to music re-education camp I now proclaim that equal temperament is the preferred, more progressive tuning system; not the regressive and counter-revolutionary just intonation system with its reactionary bourgeois pure intervals!

Thanks to the PJ Tatler.

Church Vandals in the Academy

UPDATE: Reader Charles writes:

One correction: St. John's Seminary has not been closed. All the land and buildings were sold to Boston College, but the Seminary still operates in one of the main buildings on the site. The remains of the late Cardinal were removed from the chapel to another site on the same grounds apparently because Boston College wanted to develop the site of the chapel.

It is bad enough churches and cemeteries having to deal with the constant problem of thugs vandalizing their property. How, then, are we to react when an institution that is at least nominally Catholic, Boston College in this case, vandalizes its own property?

At the death of William Henry O'Connell, Cardinal Archbishop of Boston from 1907 to 1944, a man who, like the rest of us, was certainly not without his flaws but nevertheless a good and faithful servant to Holy Church, a chapel to house his remains was built at his behest on the grounds of St. Johns Seminary in the Brighton neighborhood of Boston. Vocations being what they are in the scandal-tarred Archdiocese of Boston, which is flat broke owing to massive payoffs to the victims of priestly rape and its cover-up, the seminary was closed and sold to to BC in 2007, with the hope, we must assume, it would be used in an appropriate manne

Apparently, BC could find nothing appropriate to do with Cardinal O'Connell's small chapel so they bulldozed it to the ground a few days ago (his remains had been removed earlier). Read the infuriating details, and see more photos, on the Boston Catholic Insider blog, then wonder, like I do, what kind of callous rogues are in charge of Boston College these days. It seems to me, though, it is hardly circumstantial an institution  holding so little regard for Catholic teachings is also indifferent to the resting place of a deceased cardinal.

Thanks to Inigo Hicks.

Church Vandals in the Academy

UPDATE: Reader Charles writes:

One correction: St. John's Seminary has not been closed. All the land and buildings were sold to Boston College, but the Seminary still operates in one of the main buildings on the site. The remains of the late Cardinal were removed from the chapel to another site on the same grounds apparently because Boston College wanted to develop the site of the chapel.

It is bad enough churches and cemeteries having to deal with the constant problem of thugs vandalizing their property. How, then, are we to react when an institution that is at least nominally Catholic, Boston College in this case, vandalizes its own property?

At the death of William Henry O'Connell, Cardinal Archbishop of Boston from 1907 to 1944, a man who, like the rest of us, was certainly not without his flaws but nevertheless a good and faithful servant to Holy Church, a chapel to house his remains was built at his behest on the grounds of St. Johns Seminary in the Brighton neighborhood of Boston. Vocations being what they are in the scandal-tarred Archdiocese of Boston, which is flat broke owing to massive payoffs to the victims of priestly rape and its cover-up, the seminary was closed and sold to to BC in 2007, with the hope, we must assume, it would be used in an appropriate manne

Apparently, BC could find nothing appropriate to do with Cardinal O'Connell's small chapel so they bulldozed it to the ground a few days ago (his remains had been removed earlier). Read the infuriating details, and see more photos, on the Boston Catholic Insider blog, then wonder, like I do, what kind of callous rogues are in charge of Boston College these days. It seems to me, though, it is hardly circumstantial an institution  holding so little regard for Catholic teachings is also indifferent to the resting place of a deceased cardinal.

Thanks to Inigo Hicks.

Charity and Debt

Timothy Dalyrimple on the recently passed Budget Control Act:

One of the great difficulties of this issue, for Christians, is that the morality of spending and debt has been so thoroughly demagogued that it’s impossible to advocate cuts in government spending without being accused of hatred for the poor and needy. A group calling itself the “Circle of Protection” recently promoted a statement on “Why We Need to Protect Programs for the Poor.” But we don’t need to protect the programs. We need to protect the poor. Indeed, sometimes we need to protect the poor from the programs. Too many anti-poverty programs are beneficial for the politicians that pass them, and veritable boondoggles for the government bureaucracy that administers them, but they actually serve to rob the poor of their dignity and their initiative, they undermine the family structures that help the poor build prosperous lives, and ultimately mire the poor in poverty for generations. Does anyone actually believe that the welfare state has served the poor well?

It would behoove every politico in Washington (at least those still in possession of a degree of rationality), no matter what his or her religion, to become familiar with the principle of subsidiarity, as found in the Catholic Catechism, to wit:

Socialization also presents dangers. Excessive intervention by the state can threaten personal freedom and initiative. The teaching of the Church has elaborated the principle of subsidiarity, according to which "a community of a higher order should not interfere in the internal life of a community of a lower order, depriving the latter of its functions, but rather should support it in case of need and help to co- ordinate its activity with the activities of the rest of society, always with a view to the common good..."

The principle of subsidiarity is opposed to all forms of collectivism. It sets limits for state intervention. It aims at harmonizing the relationships between individuals and societies. It tends toward the establishment of true international order.

Making people slaves of the state while dumping the bill for it on future generations is neither charitable nor Christian.

h/t Instapundit

Charity and Debt

Timothy Dalyrimple on the recently passed Budget Control Act:

One of the great difficulties of this issue, for Christians, is that the morality of spending and debt has been so thoroughly demagogued that it’s impossible to advocate cuts in government spending without being accused of hatred for the poor and needy. A group calling itself the “Circle of Protection” recently promoted a statement on “Why We Need to Protect Programs for the Poor.” But we don’t need to protect the programs. We need to protect the poor. Indeed, sometimes we need to protect the poor from the programs. Too many anti-poverty programs are beneficial for the politicians that pass them, and veritable boondoggles for the government bureaucracy that administers them, but they actually serve to rob the poor of their dignity and their initiative, they undermine the family structures that help the poor build prosperous lives, and ultimately mire the poor in poverty for generations. Does anyone actually believe that the welfare state has served the poor well?

It would behoove every politico in Washington (at least those still in possession of a degree of rationality), no matter what his or her religion, to become familiar with the principle of subsidiarity, as found in the Catholic Catechism, to wit:

Socialization also presents dangers. Excessive intervention by the state can threaten personal freedom and initiative. The teaching of the Church has elaborated the principle of subsidiarity, according to which "a community of a higher order should not interfere in the internal life of a community of a lower order, depriving the latter of its functions, but rather should support it in case of need and help to co- ordinate its activity with the activities of the rest of society, always with a view to the common good..."

The principle of subsidiarity is opposed to all forms of collectivism. It sets limits for state intervention. It aims at harmonizing the relationships between individuals and societies. It tends toward the establishment of true international order.

Making people slaves of the state while dumping the bill for it on future generations is neither charitable nor Christian.

h/t Instapundit

Don't Know How to Thank You

Watching the imbroglio over extending the federal debt limit has been morbidly fascinating, rather like watching a huge and extended auto wreck in slow motion or the Episcopal Church, as it slowly and permanently goes off the rails. At this writing it looks as if a deal between the House and the Senate is just about in place, which will permit our government to run up an additional $3 trillion dollars on the credit card, in exchange for some cuts now and more later (mind you, they are not really cuts, rather cutbacks in increased spending so as not to exceed the new debt limit).

While the agreement in itself may not strike debt hawks as all that substantial, something far more remarkable will have occurred upon its signing, something we have never seen before: the public fisc as a campaign issue. To that end, the terms of the deal, whatever they are, are almost immaterial. The recognition at last by some officers of the body politic and, even more important, the majority of the American public, that we are on the road to ruin, that drastic action (far greater than any deal made today) must be taken, a song sung in decades past by only a few lonely Cassandras and only to be ignored, should cause a collective sigh of relief, for it is doubtful now the song can be ignored any longer.

This would not have happened had John McCain been elected president. He and his fellow career Republican hacks, rightfully derided decades ago as "bookkeepers to the welfare state," would, of course, have continued the spending party but would have done so "cautiously," via nickels and dimes (i.e. mere hundreds of billions as opposed to trillions of dollars) so that our present  indebtedness would not have appeared quite so ominous, thus making it easier to put off dealing with till another day. It took true visionaries like Barack Obama and his Democrat minions in Congress, with their visceral hatred and stupefying ignorance of free markets, to jack the national debt up into the stratosphere and thus, finally, get the country's attention. You could say we owe them a debt of gratitude for that.

Don't Know How to Thank You

Watching the imbroglio over extending the federal debt limit has been morbidly fascinating, rather like watching a huge and extended auto wreck in slow motion or the Episcopal Church, as it slowly and permanently goes off the rails. At this writing it looks as if a deal between the House and the Senate is just about in place, which will permit our government to run up an additional $3 trillion dollars on the credit card, in exchange for some cuts now and more later (mind you, they are not really cuts, rather cutbacks in increased spending so as not to exceed the new debt limit).

While the agreement in itself may not strike debt hawks as all that substantial, something far more remarkable will have occurred upon its signing, something we have never seen before: the public fisc as a campaign issue. To that end, the terms of the deal, whatever they are, are almost immaterial. The recognition at last by some officers of the body politic and, even more important, the majority of the American public, that we are on the road to ruin, that drastic action (far greater than any deal made today) must be taken, a song sung in decades past by only a few lonely Cassandras and only to be ignored, should cause a collective sigh of relief, for it is doubtful now the song can be ignored any longer.

This would not have happened had John McCain been elected president. He and his fellow career Republican hacks, rightfully derided decades ago as "bookkeepers to the welfare state," would, of course, have continued the spending party but would have done so "cautiously," via nickels and dimes (i.e. mere hundreds of billions as opposed to trillions of dollars) so that our present  indebtedness would not have appeared quite so ominous, thus making it easier to put off dealing with till another day. It took true visionaries like Barack Obama and his Democrat minions in Congress, with their visceral hatred and stupefying ignorance of free markets, to jack the national debt up into the stratosphere and thus, finally, get the country's attention. You could say we owe them a debt of gratitude for that.

Tell Us Something New or Birds of a Feather

From the Chicago Sun Times comes word Tiger Wood's ex-wife Elin Nordegren was "stunned to learn [her] new man slept with Tiger Wood's mistress."

Which brings to mind the 1954 picture starring Michael Redgrave and Dirk Bogarde, The Sea Shall Not Have Them. Noel Coward, upon first seeing the title quipped, "I don't see why not. Everyone else has."

h/t Instapundit

Tell Us Something New or Birds of a Feather

From the Chicago Sun Times comes word Tiger Wood's ex-wife Elin Nordegren was "stunned to learn [her] new man slept with Tiger Wood's mistress."

Which brings to mind the 1954 picture starring Michael Redgrave and Dirk Bogarde, The Sea Shall Not Have Them. Noel Coward, upon first seeing the title quipped, "I don't see why not. Everyone else has."

h/t Instapundit

Gather Us In Does Not Compute

Two robots have it out over liturgical music. Happily, the right robot wins (it's proving a little more difficult in the analogue world).



h/t Augustine

Gather Us In Does Not Compute

Two robots have it out over liturgical music. Happily, the right robot wins (it's proving a little more difficult in the analogue world).



h/t Augustine

Old Wine in Old Bottles

(Back after vacation.)

Your Bloviator, still reeling after reading somewhere a reference to "fifty-year-old men dressed like Justin Timberlake" (in a piece depicting the horrors seen at a failing Midwestern mall), finally decided a shake-up in the wardrobe department was no longer to be put off. Being of the cheap sort, however, I determined the best way to effect the sartorial upgrade was via the best kept secret among those whose familys' money is so old there isn't any left, the charity thrift shop, some of the best of them being, happily, either near work, on the Upper East Side, or in the region of my upbringing, where family still lives and a shopping expedition is thus justifiable on the pretext of a making a visit.

Things got off to an auspicious start early last week with a stop at the Spence Chapin Thrift Shop, where a good looking fine-checked shirt was to be had for five dollars (down from ten, owing to a one-day half-off sale). That triumph was quickly trumped at the next stop, the Memorial Sloan Kettering Thrift Shop, just a block away (Charles Kettering, by the way, gave the world, among many other splendid things, the electric self-starter for autos, thus making it possible for anyone to drive a car, and became hugely and deservedly rich for it). At this most elegant of charity thrifts, I came across a B2 (Brooks Brothers) blazer, whose previous owner must have gone to his reward within days of its delivery for it looked virtually unworn. Even more pleasing, that presumably late owner must have been my body double, to the point of even having similarly stubby arms; in short, the jacket felt tailor made. I thought the $40 price tag eminently reasonable but was further pleased to learn from one of the cheerful volunteers at the register her shop, no doubt in fierce competition with Spence Chapin, was also having a half-off sale.

I enjoyed some lesser success at other shops on the Upper East Side later in the week and today ended what I imagine to be just the first of several required sorties in the Bloviator campaign to look respectable. I landed at the Greenwich (CT) Hospital Thrift Shop, where another fine looking shirt was gotten on the cheap. Two thoughts came to mind while prowling the aisles out thar in Greenwich.

• It is perversely pleasurable to see that even mighty Brooks Brothers is capable of the occasional hideous mistake and
• I wonder if the committee at the reasonably exclusive Greenwich Country Club that thought it would be ducky to have a bunch of polo shirts with the club's moniker embroidered on them, for sale to the membership presumably, ever considered some of those shirts would find their way to a thrift shop, where one could observe a "day laborer" (to put it tactfully) seriously eyeing one of them for purchase (I should gladly have bought it for him were it possible to have done so without appearing the patronizing a-hole).

Old Wine in Old Bottles

(Back after vacation.)

Your Bloviator, still reeling after reading somewhere a reference to "fifty-year-old men dressed like Justin Timberlake" (in a piece depicting the horrors seen at a failing Midwestern mall), finally decided a shake-up in the wardrobe department was no longer to be put off. Being of the cheap sort, however, I determined the best way to effect the sartorial upgrade was via the best kept secret among those whose familys' money is so old there isn't any left, the charity thrift shop, some of the best of them being, happily, either near work, on the Upper East Side, or in the region of my upbringing, where family still lives and a shopping expedition is thus justifiable on the pretext of a making a visit.

Things got off to an auspicious start early last week with a stop at the Spence Chapin Thrift Shop, where a good looking fine-checked shirt was to be had for five dollars (down from ten, owing to a one-day half-off sale). That triumph was quickly trumped at the next stop, the Memorial Sloan Kettering Thrift Shop, just a block away (Charles Kettering, by the way, gave the world, among many other splendid things, the electric self-starter for autos, thus making it possible for anyone to drive a car, and became hugely and deservedly rich for it). At this most elegant of charity thrifts, I came across a B2 (Brooks Brothers) blazer, whose previous owner must have gone to his reward within days of its delivery for it looked virtually unworn. Even more pleasing, that presumably late owner must have been my body double, to the point of even having similarly stubby arms; in short, the jacket felt tailor made. I thought the $40 price tag eminently reasonable but was further pleased to learn from one of the cheerful volunteers at the register her shop, no doubt in fierce competition with Spence Chapin, was also having a half-off sale.

I enjoyed some lesser success at other shops on the Upper East Side later in the week and today ended what I imagine to be just the first of several required sorties in the Bloviator campaign to look respectable. I landed at the Greenwich (CT) Hospital Thrift Shop, where another fine looking shirt was gotten on the cheap. Two thoughts came to mind while prowling the aisles out thar in Greenwich.

• It is perversely pleasurable to see that even mighty Brooks Brothers is capable of the occasional hideous mistake and
• I wonder if the committee at the reasonably exclusive Greenwich Country Club that thought it would be ducky to have a bunch of polo shirts with the club's moniker embroidered on them, for sale to the membership presumably, ever considered some of those shirts would find their way to a thrift shop, where one could observe a "day laborer" (to put it tactfully) seriously eyeing one of them for purchase (I should gladly have bought it for him were it possible to have done so without appearing the patronizing a-hole).

Angels of Death from the Folk Song Army

Instapundit links to Ann Althouse, who points to this piece in the New York Times about earnest folkies going about nursing homes to ply their trade to the terminally ill, who have but only one means of escape.

Every week, three music therapists from MJHS Hospice and Palliative Care crisscross the city and suburbs to sing songs to the dying. With guitars strapped to their backs, a flute or tambourine and a songbook jammed in their backpacks, they play music for more than 100 patients, in housing projects, in nursing homes and even in a lavish waterfront home. The time for chemotherapy and radiation is over.

One should think after all that ghastly chemo and radiation those poor souls had suffered enough; now they must endure "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" as they finally shuffle off this mortal coil: O death, where is thy sting--and look slippy about it! It all brings to mind Tom Lehrer, the 50s-60s singer-songwriter satirist and one of the last of the funny liberals, who nonetheless had no time for modern pop music (once referring to "rock and roll and other children's records") and positively detested folk music, putting that dislike into song.

Angels of Death from the Folk Song Army

Instapundit links to Ann Althouse, who points to this piece in the New York Times about earnest folkies going about nursing homes to ply their trade to the terminally ill, who have but only one means of escape.

Every week, three music therapists from MJHS Hospice and Palliative Care crisscross the city and suburbs to sing songs to the dying. With guitars strapped to their backs, a flute or tambourine and a songbook jammed in their backpacks, they play music for more than 100 patients, in housing projects, in nursing homes and even in a lavish waterfront home. The time for chemotherapy and radiation is over.

One should think after all that ghastly chemo and radiation those poor souls had suffered enough; now they must endure "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" as they finally shuffle off this mortal coil: O death, where is thy sting--and look slippy about it! It all brings to mind Tom Lehrer, the 50s-60s singer-songwriter satirist and one of the last of the funny liberals, who nonetheless had no time for modern pop music (once referring to "rock and roll and other children's records") and positively detested folk music, putting that dislike into song.

I Had NO Idea It was Worth That Much...

This is what the people who haul in all those clown paintings they find in the attic to Antiques Roadshow secretly pray for.

Lost Leonardo Da Vinci painting that cost £45 in 1958 is valued at £120million

by Adrian Shaw, Daily Mirror 2/07/2011

Decrease font size Increase font size

By ADRIAN SHAW A LOST painting by Leonardo Da Vinci, bought in a clearance sale, was yesterday valued at £120million.

Experts who flew to London last year to authenticate the work as the Italian master’s were sworn to secrecy about the small oil on wood panel painting from 1513.

But yesterday, Professor Pietro Marani, from Milan, said: “We could tell at once it was by Da Vinci. There are lots of copies but this is undoubtedly his own hand...

-

The Two Kings--lost Botticelli from the Bloviator Collection.

I Had NO Idea It was Worth That Much...

This is what the people who haul in all those clown paintings they find in the attic to Antiques Roadshow secretly pray for.

Lost Leonardo Da Vinci painting that cost £45 in 1958 is valued at £120million

by Adrian Shaw, Daily Mirror 2/07/2011

Decrease font size Increase font size

By ADRIAN SHAW A LOST painting by Leonardo Da Vinci, bought in a clearance sale, was yesterday valued at £120million.

Experts who flew to London last year to authenticate the work as the Italian master’s were sworn to secrecy about the small oil on wood panel painting from 1513.

But yesterday, Professor Pietro Marani, from Milan, said: “We could tell at once it was by Da Vinci. There are lots of copies but this is undoubtedly his own hand...

-

The Two Kings--lost Botticelli from the Bloviator Collection.

More Horrors from the Church in Austria

Comes word from Fr. Z that over 250 priests the other day in Austria, apparently never having heard of Ordinatio Sacerdotalis, were able with good conscience to affix their signatures to a petition asking "women be admitted to the priesthood." Additionally, a poll of Austrian clergy from a year ago reveals "80 percent of pastors in the country declare themselves favorable to the abolition of ecclesiastical celibacy."

A reader recently upbraided me (albeit gently) for sharp words I posted about the state of the Church in Austria, with regard to the "Western Mass" debacle, and I thus altered my text somewhat. With this latest news, however, I am left wondering two things:

1. Is obedience to Church teachings taught in Austrian seminaries these days?
2. Is Cardinal Schoenborn moonlighting and thus not able to fully carry out his duties in his daytime job?

h/t William Tighe

More Horrors from the Church in Austria

Comes word from Fr. Z that over 250 priests the other day in Austria, apparently never having heard of Ordinatio Sacerdotalis, were able with good conscience to affix their signatures to a petition asking "women be admitted to the priesthood." Additionally, a poll of Austrian clergy from a year ago reveals "80 percent of pastors in the country declare themselves favorable to the abolition of ecclesiastical celibacy."

A reader recently upbraided me (albeit gently) for sharp words I posted about the state of the Church in Austria, with regard to the "Western Mass" debacle, and I thus altered my text somewhat. With this latest news, however, I am left wondering two things:

1. Is obedience to Church teachings taught in Austrian seminaries these days?
2. Is Cardinal Schoenborn moonlighting and thus not able to fully carry out his duties in his daytime job?

h/t William Tighe

And if they still don't come, we'll double down with felt banners and labyrinths!

An Episcopalian parish, weary of the plummeting numbers, goes on emergency retreat and engages the matter head on.

"The first half-hour was devoted to coffee and meeting one another as the various parish groups assembled. A large circle was then formed, and individual statements were given about hopes for the day. Then the program, or rather the games, began. The stated purpose was to relax us, to get to know one another’s names, and to produce an atmosphere of teamwork. Paper bags covered heads, and people had to form a line or persuade a stony-faced person to smile, etc., for two hours [italics original]...

...Then one of the leaders got up and gave a brief history of Christian meditation, pointing out that after the Dalai Lama left Tibet and Pope John XXIII instituted reforms, meditation was revived in the West. A pair of shoe liners was placed in the center of our circle, and we were instructed to empty our minds and listen to God for ten minutes.

No doubt God did speak to them but having already emptied their minds, they couldn't understand Him, of course. Funny thing, though: one of the oft most repeated tropes of Episcopalian innovators is the smug assertion theirs is the church that doesn't require you leave your mind at the door. Only at retreats, apparently.

h/t the Lone Star Parson, whose most excellent blog may be found here.

And if they still don't come, we'll double down with felt banners and labyrinths!

An Episcopalian parish, weary of the plummeting numbers, goes on emergency retreat and engages the matter head on.

"The first half-hour was devoted to coffee and meeting one another as the various parish groups assembled. A large circle was then formed, and individual statements were given about hopes for the day. Then the program, or rather the games, began. The stated purpose was to relax us, to get to know one another’s names, and to produce an atmosphere of teamwork. Paper bags covered heads, and people had to form a line or persuade a stony-faced person to smile, etc., for two hours [italics original]...

...Then one of the leaders got up and gave a brief history of Christian meditation, pointing out that after the Dalai Lama left Tibet and Pope John XXIII instituted reforms, meditation was revived in the West. A pair of shoe liners was placed in the center of our circle, and we were instructed to empty our minds and listen to God for ten minutes.

No doubt God did speak to them but having already emptied their minds, they couldn't understand Him, of course. Funny thing, though: one of the oft most repeated tropes of Episcopalian innovators is the smug assertion theirs is the church that doesn't require you leave your mind at the door. Only at retreats, apparently.

h/t the Lone Star Parson, whose most excellent blog may be found here.