Modernism on the Feast of Pope St. Pius X

Here’s a few selections from the old Catholic Encyclopedia’s write up on Modernism, in honor of Pope St. Pius X, who was pope at the time this encyclopedia was being written and who gave Modernism both barrels.

What Modernism is:

A full definition of modernism would be rather difficult. First it stands for certain tendencies, and secondly for a body of doctrine which, if it has not given birth to these tendencies (practice often precedes theory), serves at any rate as their explanation and support. Such tendencies manifest themselves in different domains. They are not united in each individual, nor are they always and everywhere found together. Modernist doctrine, too, may be more or less radical, and it is swallowed in doses that vary with each one’s likes and dislikes. In the Encyclical “Pascendi”, Pius X says that modernism embraces every heresy.

One reason a full definition of Modernism would be difficult is that Hegel, the tent-pole Modernist, held that definition – stating what something or some idea *is* and *is not* – is right out. The world is Becoming, not Being, so that all statements of being are essentially meaningless. Thus, expecting some sort of consistency in the beliefs and behaviors of Modernists is also nonsensical. They are all manifesting, in better or worse, or more or less advanced, ways the feelings of the age.

That “embraces every heresy” line is interesting. The future saint doesn’t say “is open to” or “may fall victim to” but “embraces” – a positive act. This embracing of the heretical, expressed in phrases such as ‘everything is a social construct’ or ‘that’s your truth’ is not just a letting down of our guard against heresy, but, in keeping with the Hegelian rejection of statements of being, a necessary step in the upcoming synthesis. A heresy is not wrong, it is merely the expression of the antithesis to some dogma, destined to become suspended yet not contradicted in a new and better understanding.

Note that one outcome of this kind of emoting – it would hardly do to call it thinking – is the readily apparent moral race to the bottom we’re seeing now. Nothing at all can be fundamentally wrong, but merely daring or transgressive, soon to be incorporated into enlightened understanding. Hegel, who imagined the Spirit driving all this enlightenment, may have not meant it that way, but it’s a funny tendency of ideas to get off leash and be pursued to their logical conclusion regardless of who thought it up and what they may have wanted.

A remodelling, a renewal according to the ideas of the twentieth century — such is the longing that possesses the modernists. “The avowed modernists”, says M. Loisy, “form a fairly definite group of thinking men united in the common desire to adapt Catholicism to the intellectual, moral and social needs of today” (op. cit., p. 13). “Our religious attitude”, as “Il programma dei modernisti” states (p. 5, note l), “is ruled by the single wish to be one with Christians and Catholics who live in harmony with the spirit of the age”. The spirit of this plan of reform may be summarized under the following heads:

– A spirit of complete emancipation, tending to weaken ecclesiastical authority; the emancipation of science, which must traverse every field of investigation without fear of conflict with the Church; the emancipation of the State, which should never be hampered by religious authority; the emancipation of the private conscience whose inspirations must not be overridden by papal definitions or anathemas; the emancipation of the universal conscience, with which the Church should be ever in agreement;
– A spirit of movement and change, with an inclination to a sweeping form of evolution such as abhors anything fixed and stationary;
– A spirit of reconciliation among all men through the feelings of the heart. Many and varied also are the modernist dreams of an understanding between the different Christian religions, nay, even between religion and a species of atheism, and all on a basis of agreement that must be superior to mere doctrinal differences.

Every get frustrated with the idea of Progress as an intransitive verb, divorced from any idea of progress toward something? That’s a feature, not a bug.

So Rodney King’s ‘why can’t we all just get along?”, that Hull House lady Jane Addams (I think) who convinced John Dewey that there are no real disagreements, only misunderstandings, and Jo Swenson’s Empathicalism, where the goal of life is “to project your imagination so to actually feel what the other person is feeling.”  – these are all flavors of Modernism. Right?

Perhaps Modernism could be defined as the idea that humanity will find peace only once all join hands in a sufficiently murky emotional miasma.

For [Modernists] external intuition furnishes man with but phenomenal contingent, sensible knowledge. He sees, he feels, he hears, he tastes, he touches this something, this phenomenon that comes and goes without telling him aught of the existence of a suprasensible, absolute and unchanging reality outside all environing space and time. But deep within himself man feels the need of a higher hope. He aspires to perfection in a being on whom he feels his destiny depends. And so he has an instinctive, an affective yearning for God. This necessary impulse is at first obscure and hidden in the subconsciousness. Once consciously understood, it reveals to the soul the intimate presence of God. This manifestation, in which God and man collaborate, is nothing else than revelation. Under the influence of its yearning, that is of its religious feelings, the soul tries to reach God, to adopt towards Him an attitude that will satisfy its yearning. It gropes, it searches. These gropings form the soul’s religious experience. They are more easy, successful and far-reaching, or less so, according as it is now one, now another individual soul that sets out in quest of God. Anon there are privileged ones who reach extraordinary results. They communicate their discoveries to their fellow men, and forthwith become founders of a new religion, which is more or less true in the proportion in which it gives peace to the religious feelings.

The attitude Christ adopted, reaching up to God as to a father and then returning to men as to brothers — such is the meaning of the precept, “Love God and thy neighbour” — brings full rest to the soul. It makes the religion of Christ the religion , the true and definitive religion. The act by which the soul adopts this attitude and abandons itself to God as a father and then to men as to brothers, constitutes the Christian Faith. Plainly such an act is an act of the will rather than of the intellect. But religious sentiment tries to express itself in intellectual concepts, which in their turn serve to preserve this sentiment. Hence the origin of those formulae concerning God and Divine things, of those theoretical propositions that are the outcome of the successive religious experiences of souls gifted with the same faith. These formulae become dogmas, when religious authority approves of them for the life of the community. For community life is a spontaneous growth among persons of the same faith, and with it comes authority. Dogmas promulgated in this way teach us nothing of the unknowable, but only symbolize it. They contain no truth. Their usefulness in preserving the faith is their only raison d’être.  They survive as long as they exert their influence. Being the work of man in time, and adapted to his varying needs, they are at best but contingent and transient. Religious authority too, naturally conservative, may lag behind the times. It may mistake the best methods of meeting needs of the community, and try to keep up worn-out formulae.

Those church songs I’m always going on about, where we, the gathered people, are mentioned directly or indirectly to the exclusion or near-exclusion of God – these are not some accident. They embody the above emphasis on *us* as the source and summit of religion.

What could possibly go wrong?

All heresies are rejections of the Incarnation. From Satan on down, pride inclines us to reject the idea that an all-powerful God could ever be so humble as to become one of us. Modernism rejects the idea that, having become one of us, Jesus might have something to say, and, having said it, might expect us to embrace it. They called him ‘Rabbi’ that is, ‘Teacher,’ yet we are incapable of being taught. No – we turn to feelings, to our personal direct experiences without any animating influence from that guy on the cross. We may stumble across Him (not that that could be all that important) and feel some connection. Or not. But that hardly matters. What matters is that we embrace our feelings and each other as we stumble into the sulfurous cloud.

Little heavy, there. But nothing compared to Pope St. Pius X. He was metal. Perhaps his St. Michael’s pray would be a good palate cleanser at this point.

Pope St. Pius X – Pray for us!

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Saturday Update, 7/27/19

1 I still need a job. Been a year now. About 1/2 through my contingency savings, so we could (theoretically) skate another year. But that would be bad.

2 We’re having the volunteers from the local Birthright over this afternoon for pizza and other good things the board, of which I’m a member, are providing. Most of the volunteers are retired or empty-nest women, who show up at our little center for a few hours a week to council women in crisis pregnancies. They tend to get attached to the women and their babies, and often form longer-term relationships. Good people. Should be fun. Lot of prep yet to do.

3 This upcoming pizza party occasioned another little Home Improvement Project! If you spend far too much time on this blog and have a scary-good memory, you may recall this pizza oven door I built a couple years ago:

Pizza oven, front, with its late oak door

It was cute. Well, a year or so ago, a houseguest wanted to help out, and, since he had worked as a fireman, I told him he could get a nice fire going in the pizza oven, so we could make some pizzas when I got back. Gave him instructions about how one builds a fire toward the front, then, once it’s going, shove it to the back and starts another fire in the front, then, once both are going, you can put the door in front loosely to trap some of the heat, so that the whole oven heats evenly.

Set up for a sit-com moment? You bet!

I come home, and flames are coming out of the pizza oven’s chimney; branches of the nearby privet are smoldering. And my nice little door is on fire. The door had two thin sheets of galvanized steel sandwiching an inch of high-temp mineral wool on the side facing in. The wood was not directly exposed to the fire. I’d used it a dozen times without catching it on fire. A little singe, here and there, but that’s about it. It took some, um, enthusiasm to set it on fire.

So, finally got around to building a replacement door:

Note the intense soot above the door. Scrap oak, again, but this time with one much heavier sheet of steel toward the fire, 1″ mineral wool insulation, and some high-temp furnace gasket around the edges, not for sealing, but for a barrier to the mineral wool. The fire-facing stuff is rated minimum 1,000F. So, can we not burn the oak this time?

This was a surprisingly frustrating project, took hours longer than it should have. End result looks OK, but man…. Sloppy glue-up required quite a bit of shaping; both the chop saw and the jig saw were having difficulties I could not identify and correct; cracked the board when I got a little too enthusiastic about attaching the insulation… just a bunch of stuff went wrong. Oh, well, it’s done.

4 Finally, and this is harder to write about: I’ve been having empty nester symptoms. True, our 15 year old still lives with us, but he’s been on 3 1-week Boy Scout adventures this summer already. So, it’s me, my wife, MIL and the cat. The older kids scattered to the winds for (Newman List! Don’t leave home without it!) colleges, so they’ve been gone for four or more years already. So, yea.

On the selfish plus side, Older Daughter has moved to Napa, only a 45 minute drive away. So we see more of her, and it is a blessing. She also has a lovely boyfriend there. This is all very good.

Now something my wife and I long suspected may be coming to pass: younger daughter has had this thing about going to Africa as a missionary for years now. Prior to graduation, she looked into a bunch of options, and hooked up with the Salesians. She’s training with them now in New York state. In a couple months, she’s heading off to South Sudan for a year.

She was thanking us for not trying to talk her out of it, but it wasn’t easy keeping my mouth shut. She’ll be with a bunch of other people at a well-established mission, with folks who have been doing this for years, so it’s about as safe as could be hoped. But this is my little girl here!

And – this is the part we’ve suspected – she is loving the Salesian community. She’s not talking about becoming a religious sister (yet), but loves the work and the people.

Well, she’s God’s, not ours, and has always been His. Thy will be done.

Potpori

My crack Blog Post Title Mutation Team identified ‘potpori’ as possibly the lamest blog post title ever imagined. So I’m going with it. It was supposed to be ‘Sunday Potpori’ but then I didn’t get it posted. Join us here on Yard Sale of the Mind as we push the tattered edge of the lameness envelope into uncharted, ragged territory. We live to serve.

1 Lots of nice brickwork getting done. By end of the day, hope to have reached a more photogenic point, and so might post an update. I can just hear you squirming in anticipation! You need to stand up or wear more slippery pants.

2 Through working with the RCIA program the last few years, regularly run into concerns about posture and gesture at Mass – people want to know when to sit, stand, kneel, and so on, and are confused when not everyone at Mass does exactly the same thing, or just generally want to do it ‘right’. We always assure them that if they just follow along with what must people are doing, they’ll be fine, and at any event nobody (much) is going to care if they get it ‘wrong’. If they are still concerned, we point them to the instructions in the missalette.

All in all, this concern to do it right is seen as charming, but not all that big a deal, and we want the RCIA candidates to feel comfortable coming to Mass, not worried about getting every little thing ‘right’.

But is this right? It seems we have not only an instinct to worship, but an instinct to do it right. In Exodus, there are detailed instructions on how to build a proper tabernacle, the furnishing, tent, altars, even the priestly vestments, and what materials to use, correct dimensions where appropriate, as well as explicit and implicit descriptions of the rituals to be performed. These instructions were delivered after the Israelites had build and worshipped the Golden Calf, and received the 10 Commandments, which start off with the command to not have strange gods before the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. It is important to know there definitely are right and wrong ways to worship God.

The challenge for this next year, which will be starting formal meeting in about a month, is to find a way to address and nurture the candidates’ and catechumens’ instinct for worship without dismissing it trying to calm their anxiety.

3 Despite misgivings, I posted on Twitter about the 7th anniversary of our son Andrew’s death this past Saturday. While I started out on Twitter to follow SciFi authors, I follow and am followed by a lot of nice Catholics and other Christians as well. There is some overlap.

Tomorrow is the 7th anniversary of our son Andrew’s death. He was hit by a car on a rural Indiana road on a pro-life walk across America, 1 mo shy of his 21st BD.

He was a very good kid. I miss him & am honored to have been his dad. Ask for his intercession, tell me what happens— Joseph Moore (@Yardsale_Mind) July 19, 2019

I really don’t know what to make of this, because I truly do not understand Twitter. Over 30,000 people and counting have looked at that tweet, retweeting it approaching 100 times, lots of comments, approaching 1,000 ‘likes’, about 60 new people follow my Twitter account. This is like 3 orders of magnitude more views over my typical tweets; my typical tweets are also generally ignored (no ‘engagements’ in Twit-speak).

I have no idea what this means, but I trust Andrew is interceding for the intentions of all these people.

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This is not creepy at all. That nice lion wouldn’t hurt the cute little girl, right? At least, we can count on the nature flick people to edit it out when he does, like how when the wolves run down the little baby caribou, for all we know he then takes him out for a drink and a laugh. That whole disemboweling him alive part doesn’t make for family friendly programming.

4 This Sunday marked the end of our parish’s Summer Bible Camp. According to a tradition that traces all the way back to the Apostles Moonbeam and Kumbaya, all the kids who were roped into free daycare attended camp came up at the end of Mass, assembled in front of the altar, and ‘sang’ this year’s camp song, something about roaring. There were t-shirts with cartoon lions on them. What a coincidence that the live action remake of Lion King also happens this summer. Wow.

I give this here not as an example of liturgical abuse, but rather of, frankly, child abuse. It’s one of those things where people see what they expect, not what is there.

The audience laughed when a couple little girls did flamboyant roars at or near the appropriate spot in the song (there are always a couple 6 or 7 year old little girls in such a crowd who love being the center of attention – they almost all get over it); they clapped not once, but twice (upon the urging of the priest) to show – our appreciation? People, I imagine, saw just another school thing, just another moment when parents get to affirm and reinforce what the schools are having the kids do.

We had seat right up front, since those seats are designed to be easier to access for people like my 81 year old mother in law.

What I saw were 25-30 kids, all but 2 of whom were extremely uncomfortable being paraded before people they mostly don’t know. One boy, maybe 10? 11? stood as if catatonic, doing his best pre-teen I’m invisible act; another boy was fighting back tears and failing. Most were sheepishly doing absolutely the minimum movements the leader was trying to get them to do and mouthing the words, maybe half had an embarrassed smile.

And everybody in the pews smiled and clapped. You know how kids are. You just have to make them do stuff, sometimes. It’s good for them, you know.

Right. Like those boys are going to have fond memories of this summer, and develop a deeper relationship with our Lord, because they were humiliated into standing in front of people and pretending to sing a song.

Yet, this is the only kind of thing most people understand by ‘education’ – this is FUN education. The idea that adults should model and accompany children on their way to adulthood seems lost – instead, we inflict on them stuff no self-respecting adult would ever put up with. Kids are kids, and need kid time. But education, if it means anything, means helping them on their way to adulthood. What we inflict on them today doesn’t do that.

5. It is perhaps helpful to remember in this context that modern schooling has its roots in Fichte’s desire that Prussia have obedient soldiers who don’t spend any time thinking for themselves. The fundamental idea is to break down people as individuals, and turn them into, as Torry Harris put it, “…automata, careful to walk in the prescribed paths, careful to follow prescribed custom.” This is the goal of ‘substantial education’ in Harris-speak. The 1%, who are strangely never discussed, are presumed to decide what those paths and customs are. The Spirit having unfolded Itself to them, if they are Hegelians; History having raised their consciousness, if they are Marxists, such that, despite having their consciousness wholly determined by their class/place in the hegemony, they somehow have ideas that are not so determined. Hmmm.

In the military:

The first few weeks of military basic training is dedicated to breaking you down. During this period, you’ll find that you can’t do anything right. Even if you do it right, it’ll be wrong. Nobody’s perfect, and military drill instructors are trained to ferret out those imperfections and make sure that you know about them.

After you’ve been completely ripped apart, the real training begins — teaching you to do things the “basic training way,” without even having to think about it — you just react. If a military basic training instructor can make this reaction happen, then he has done his job.

From Basic Training for Dummies, copyright © 2011 by Wiley Publishing, Inc., Hoboken, New Jersey. 

Every wonder why getting the right answer or already knowing what it is the teacher is putatively teaching doesn’t get you a pass? It’s because the lesson in not the lesson. The only real difference: you can get out of the army after a few years, and you don’t need to pretend that military training is the sole measure of your worth. Schooling goes on for a decade and half, and you are expected to own the identity that school gives you.

6. Finishing up a bunch of books, and have several I need to start soon. Hoping to get a book-review-alanche going this week.

Writing, Updates, a Link

A. Finished one story that’s been rattling about unfinished for years, about a musician who doesn’t know he’s an artist, and an artist who knows he is. In space. With cool tech. And bureaucratic intrigue. And with some literal cliff hanging

I still like it, 3 days later. This is an achievement of sorts, whether of growing confidence or self-delusion, I don’t know. Now need to find some place to submit it, but I think I’ll let it sit a few more days first.

The coolest, most encouraging part of all for me is that this is the first story I’ve *finished* finished in the grand SciFi world that has been rattling around in my head for a decade or two. Have draft-like objects of a couple more stories, some outlines of couple more, and an incomplete outline and many pages of notes to what is looking to be a multi-novel series. (I can’t write one novel, but I can *plan* a series. Pathetic.)

In my head I call this world ‘the Systems’, a lame but functional title. It centers around a trip made by a generational ship to a three star system, where two of the stars are stable little suns, each having nice inhabitable planets and moons. These two orbit each other, and together orbit a third, more distant star, which is not so stable, but somewhere along the path to being a red giant.

Cool made up tech

The underlying future tech stuff is nothing screamingly original, although I of course try to make it cool; the interest for me is in how one would maintain a sustainable, liveable culture under the mentally and emotionally harsh conditions of the original trip, how people would deal with decades-to-centuries long terraforming exercises after the trip, and how successfully people can transition from epic explorers/conquerors of new worlds to – what? So, you won! Hurrah! Now what? You farm, or just hang out while the bots take care of it for you?

I’m attempting to deal with the central problem Star Trek solves by its most egregious handwavium: in a super cool high tech socialist paradise, what do people *do*? Some tiny percent explore strange new worlds, etc., but most, it is implied, become Trobriand Islanders, only with better toys and manners. They have no hope to better themselves or the world in any objective sense, so they raise yams, figuratively, and screw, trade ‘art’ to reinforce social standing and improve self-esteem , and scheme for enhanced social position.

Talk about Hell. I want to look at this in more detail.

The main challenge for very amatuer and inexperienced me is setting up the overall arc of the stories. It’s fun to fill in once you know where you’re going, but, for me at least, I have to know the destination. I’ve started writing out character arcs for major characters, which can run thousands of words each, but does help me get clear. The plot itself has 4 major incidents, where character is revealed and Rubicons are crossed; I must know how each of about 8 characters deal with them….

One very cool thing: I had a major plot point for which a sympathetic mom had to do something pretty terrible. I’d gotten hung up on that for a long time – why did she do that? Then, months later, I figured out why. Weirdly gratifying.

Another thing: so far, all the most interesting characters are women. Plenty of men, and plenty of derring-do to go around, but so far, it’s the women (and girls – children figure prominently in this) who are most interesting. To me, at least. This will likely change as time goes on.

Anyway, fun and frustrating. At this rate, I’ll be almost done by 2035 or so…

Then made the mistake, maybe, of rereading the last story I finished, a couple months back, which story, in a fit of reckless enthusiasm, I even submitted for an anthology.

Well. I sure can write some trite, awkward stuff, I can. Sheesh. I’m embarrassed by it. Making it better would not have been too difficult, but I seem to have needed some space to see it.

We are assured that humility is a good thing – I’m going with that. And I’m working on cleaning up and finishing some other half-finished stories. See how it goes.

B. As obsessively dedicated readers with long memories here may recall, I lead a religious ed group down at the local parish called Feasts & Faith. Each week, I give a talk/slide show about the week’s feasts, including the saints days. We try to have appropriate snacks, such as foods and drinks from the countries the saints are from. Many big or locally important feast have foods and activities associated with them already, which makes it easy.

The point of all this is that the Church gives us the saints as models and leaders, and the liturgical year lays them out for us in convenient and persistent small doses. There’s really is nothing happening to us today on a personal, political or ecclesiastical level that some, usually large, number of saints have not already gone through. Temptations? Betrayal? Political oppression? Church corruption? Reading the lives of the saints tells us these things are nothing new, they happen in every age, and will be with us until the Second Coming. And, most important, that people did get through them faithfully. I also, you’ll be shocked to hear, digress into long discussions of history, in order to provide some context. Doing the research for these meetings has been very enlightening.

So I was pleased to read this post from David Warren. A sample:

Among the uses of the Catholic (and Orthodox) cult of saints, is the groundwork they provide for the student’s sense of historical time. The saints arrive in succession, some earlier than others. Yet each is a figure who comes from outside time, and leads us, as it were, back where he came from. There is no “progress” from one saint, or generation of saints, to another. Each is sui generis — one of a kind — and each is “perfect,” by which we don’t mean entirely free of sin but complete to a purpose.

In their immense numbers they provide a constellation of light to our dark world, invisible to most but visible to many. The liturgy brings one after another into view, to serve as searchlights of us: thousands or millions of “little Christ lanterns” spread as the stars from horizon to horizon.

The custom of assigning saints to functions, of naming “patron saints” for trades and activities, sufferings and conditions of life, should be self-explanatory. To the faithful, of course, it is more than just custom. The Christian faith was from its origin extremely practical. (“Do this, in memory of me.”) To say, as they teach in our schools today, if they teach anything besides juvenile delinquency and despair, that the cults within our religion are “pagan survivals,” or “old superstitions,” is all very well; so long as we realize that this misses the point entirely, as all acts of malice tend to do.

C. The Endless Front Yard Brick Project is slowly progressing. Did have one of those moments that is both encouraging and discouraging at the same time: Leading down from the front porch, which is already complete as far as brick paving goes, will be a gate and two steps down into the front yard orchard. For some reason, I have been wildly overthinking this. Curved footers on weird radii, lots of holes, steel and concrete, hard-to-stake out forms – every time I thought about it, it got more complicated. Been putting it off for like 2 years now.

The encouraging part: once I stopped making it into the Great Wall in my head, a good and very simple solution presented itself. Just not that complicated. So, on the encouraging side, I think I can knock it off in a couple days with a minimum of digging and concrete pouring; on the discouraging side – why do I work myself up into knots trying to make things hard? If only this were a rare event…

Further updates and pictures as events warrant.

Happy, Holy, and Blessed Pentecost

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Pentecost, Verona, Basilica di Santa Anastasia. Notice Mary front and center: “When they entered the city they went to the upper room where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these devoted themselves with one accord to prayer, together with some women, and Mary the mother of Jesus, and his brothers.” ACTS 1:13-14
By User: Testus – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4101537
With the altar, By User: Testus – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4101537

All Easter Season, the daily Mass readings have featured Acts and the Gospel of John, the first readings showing how the Church grew in her infancy, and the Gospel presenting a mystagogia of sorts, an in depth answer to Jesus’ question that occasioned Peter’s great confession: “Who do you say that I am?”

Jesus is the Bread of Life; the Way, the Truth, and the Life; the Good Shepherd, the sheepdate. The Father and He are One. Today, we wrap up this period of post-Easter instruction with the story of its fulfillment.

The big question has long seemed to me: how come the Apostles and disciples, when they received the Spirit, immediately became these powerful preachers and miracle workers, while we, most often, have to remind ourselves that, with the reception of the sacraments, we, too, have recieved and continue to recieve that same Spirit? Why (usually) aren’t we powerful preachers and miracle workers?

We have yet to make room for the Spirit. God is always polite and respectful of the free will He has given us, and will not force himself upon us. (Give Him the slightest opening, and that’s another story.) Unlike almost all of us, the people present at Pentecost had been completely emptied, even, after a fashion, destroyed. These were people raised from birth to await and seek the Messiah, the fulfillment of all their personal and national hopes. They found Him! As Peter said to Jesus, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”(Matthew 16:16-19)

And He dies in ignominy, He doesn’t restore the Kingdom, He doesn’t even fight, or allow his disciples to fight, to keep Him from being handed over to His enemies.

Then, when all hope had been crushed, when the man they had staked their lives on died like any other man, promises unfulfilled, He rises from the dead, and appears to them! And then leaves them, again, with an incomprehensible promise to be with them always, and to send His Paraclete.

Try to imagine what it would be like, emotionally and intellectually, to have gone through the Passion, Death and Resurrection in a matter of days, after 3 years of miracles and teachings by turns profound and incomprehensible. Imagine having your hopes raised beyond your dreams, then crushed in fear, shame and agony, then raised again to yet higher heights – and then, being abandoned again with vague or at least mysterious promises.

Those Apostles and disciples, in that room with His Holy Mother – they were empty of everything, except for the ineffable joy and hope they had received at His Ascension. There was nothing left in this world for them, no worldly hopes or dreams, nothing to do or see – only waiting.

The great saints get to this level of emptiness, where the Spirit has room to make His home in them. They, like the people in that upper room on Pentecost – the Church, considered in its divine nature – had been emptied, too, sometimes by trauma, sometimes by a life of penance and love, often by both. They did become channels of grace, powerful preachers, miracle workers. We, still too full, see as in a glass darkly.

In a strictly human sense, we should not envy them. The cost, dying to ourselves, is very high, much too high for any mere earthly reward. If we are somehow able to get out of the way even a little, God will not only fill us with His Spirit, but that Spirit will empty us, nudges, dynamite, whatever it takes, until we live only for Him: the definition of eternal joy.

2nd Graduation in a Week; East Coast College Grand Tour

Last week, we did a graduation here:

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Thomas Aquinas College Santa Paula

This week, in 30 minutes to be precise, we will be heading out to these places, making use of airplanes in the proper modern fashion:

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Thomas More College of Liberal Arts, Merrimack, NH
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Thomas Aquinas College Northfield, where Thomas our son will be working next year.

Younger daughter Anna Kate, who surprised us, and particularly her older brother Thomas, by red-eyeing it out right after defending her thesis and heading into finals week, by showing up for Thomas’s graduation 3,000 miles away at Thomas Aquinas College, is now getting her turn, and that means a half dozen of us will be doing the 3,000 mile trip from the Bay Area to Merrimack, NH and Thomas More College.

From there, we’re visiting relatives in Connecticut and Manhattan, then next Tuesday flying back – but on the route, we will be visiting Thomas Aquinas College East in Northfield, MA, where our son Thomas will be working next year. After a trip to Israel, Anna Kate will be heading to Africa for a year long missionary trip.

Kids these days.

Working on another giant post summarizing the epistemic closure of the Left, but not likely to post it before we come back.

Carry on.

Music at Masses Review: TAC Baccalaureate & St. Therese Alhambra

Was blessed this weekend to be present at two very beautiful masses, the baccalaureate mass for our son’s graduation at TAC, and a 7:30 a.m. Sunday morning mass at St. Therese’s in Alhambra, California. These masses were both very different and yet very much the same, one a huge celebration in a gorgeous church presided over by a bishop and half-dozen priests, with a amazing choir and organist, and all the pomp and ceremony one could want. The other was a low mass in a pretty parish church, with the only music being the typical Latin commons for the Kyrie (yes, it’s Greek, I know) Sanctus and Agnus. The priest also sang a bit of an old Marian hymn as an illustration of some point in his homily.

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Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity Chapel, Thomas Aquinas College, Ojai, CA

They were the same in their reverence, and in being directed to the glory of God and not the glory of men.

The choir at TAC is amazing. A school of 350 or so students can somehow produce a choir more than worthy of their beautiful church and school. There has long been a frankly shocking amount of musical talent at that school, given that there’s no music program as such (the students study music a little as part of their Great Books program). Yet in the now decade that I’ve been going down to campus, seems there’s always something musically excellent going on. At the family of the graduates dinner Friday night, for example, two different acapella groups founded or peopled by students, or both, performed, and both were excellent.

Interior of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity Chapel
Interior.

Saturday morning, the baccalaureate mass began at 8:30 in a packed church. Here’s my one and only complaint about that beautiful building: site lines from anywhere other than the nave are terrible. When it’s a full church, half the people are in the transept or side aisles, and might as well be outside for as well as they can see anything. This obscured vision is a result of the sanctuary being recessed enough to be mostly invisible from the transept, but mostly from a nave and side aisle design in a building that’s not that big. In gigantic cathedrals, it’s often possible to see fairly well from much of the side aisles, as the columns are farther apart and the nave wider. In Our Lady of the Holy Trinity Chapel, all you can see from 90% of the aisle spaces is the columns and the nave – the altar and sanctuary are totally blocked. Of course, for 95% of the masses celebrated there, everybody sits in the nave and it’s no problem, so this is a minor complaint, really.

The Mass began with Come Holy Ghost while the faculty and graduates filed in, followed by the chant Introit while the clergy and Bishop Barron processed in and the altar was incensed. The mass commons were some lovely polyphony I didn’t immediately recognize, most likely Palestrina, perhaps – one of that crowd. They also did motets for offertory and communion including Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus, and more chant propers.

For the recession, the choir sang the hymn tune from Jupiter from Holst’s the Planets – an extreme case of redeeming some beautiful secular music, in this case, from the hands of a goodball gnostic astrologer. Lovely.

Or it seems you can just listen to it – here. Audio is a bit spotty, but you will get the gist. Bonus Bishop Barron homily.

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St. Therese of Lisieux, Alhambra, CA, interior.

The next morning, Mother’s Day, we – my wife, mother-in-law, our 15 year old son David, freshly-minted graduate Thomas, elder daughter Teresa, who lives in Alhambra, and our younger daughter Anna Kate who flew in from New Hampshire to surprise her big brother, gathered for the 7:30 a.m. mass at St. Therese’s and brunch afterwards. Younger daughter also is graduating, in one week! She had handed in her senior thesis Monday, defended it Thursday, then flew out Friday, flew back Sunday in order to take her finals! Insane, but typical – those two are only 20 months apart in age, and were often thought to be twins growing up (and fought like cats and dogs). Despite needing special permission to defend her thesis early so that she could leave Friday, and despite having to try to study for finals on the plane, she was not going to miss this.

Our older daughter Teresa helped arrange all this, picking up Anna Kate at the airport and putting her up, and driving her to the graduation. I love our kids! There are far better than I deserve, that’s for sure.

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Modern-ish, but lovingly executed and not unlovely. It’s heart, and the hearts of all those involved, are in the right place.

Mass was what you’d expect early on a Sunday morning – very low key. The people, which included a passel of Sisters of Charity (they always look so happy!), knew the chant propers and sang them well. Quiet, reverent and of course efficacious.

We may not often get to have the 90+ minute high sung mass celebrated in a great church by competent, devote people, but I’ll take a revenant low mass celebrated by people who care any day of the week. I’m grateful to all the people who helped bring about both masses, even and perhaps especially those whose devotion helped to transmit a culture in which such things can take place.