Latin Mass for One

Is the Latin Mass less worthy of reverence than “Hamlet”?

Tuesday after Easter. I have a spare hour, so why not check out the daily Latin Mass at St William of York? It was at 1120am on that day only, which you might think was an odd time for any Mass. Not pre-work or post-work or lunchtime; it might attract only retired people or homemakers or the staff and students at the adjacent university who can make their own time. In fact, even these had other things to do and I found myself alone in the nave.

It was the first time I had ever been the sole member of the congregation at any Mass in any language. It certainly encourages concentration when you are the only one to make the responses AND in a foreign tongue. Fortunately most of the Mass is either silent or said by the priest, so my mispronunciations were not too plentiful, despite a sore throat. Unfortunately the long gaps of silent prayer made it extra hard to keep my location in the Mass booklet. With no clear visual or audible cues to guide me I was flicking back and forth in the booklet to see where my hoarse voice might next be needed. Suddenly the priest would proclaim: “Dominus vobiscum!” and my rusty childhood reflexes kicked in with “Et cum spiritu tuo.” Phew! Back on track at top of page 23.….

Even more unnerving is making sure I am kneeling, standing or seated at the right points. Normally you follow the herd movements up and down. Mercifully there are directions in the margins of the Mass booklet.

In some ways it was a wonderful nostalgia trip, with the glorious prayers ripped from the liturgy after Vatican 2 now coming up fresh as new paint. What could be more wonderfully new every day than the opening lines: “I will go up to the altar of God, the God who gives joy to my youth”? What bunch of destructive eejits thought that they would attract young people by editing out prayers like that? The Good Centurion, quoted for 2,000 years at every Mass just before Communion, was similarly evicted. “Lord, I am not worthy that thou should enter under my roof….” After all, in the 1960s atmosphere of universal peace and love as prescribed by Ho Chi Minh, a saintly imperialist military guy did not quite fit the picture. Now the God who gives joy to every one’s youth and the virtuous commander were back in daily prayers.

Come Communion, I advance to the altar rail. The altar rail has not been eliminated every where - I knelt at one in St Stephen’s Cathedral in Budapest in 2004. But at St William they have to improvise for Latin Mass - the strip of kneelers/bookrests normally used for the front row of seats is pushed forward to form a temporary altar barrier. You might think that a congregation of one would be difficult to miss, especially when he is my size, two rows from the front and the only voice responding, albeit croakily and shakily. Do I receive the host? Er, no, the priest carries on in silent prayer, back to me, apparently unaware of my bulky kneeling presence.

I retreat bemused to my seat, Mass concludes, followed by several post-Mass prayers which I had not heard in years, including the old favourite to St Michael the Archangel. Then, as the priest is finished and I am on the point of leaving, he asks apologetically if I wanted Communion. Well, yes… I quickly regret this as it involves a rewind to the pre-Communion prayers, distribution of the host (to me alone) and then a repeat of the post-Communion prayers.

Would I do it again? Definitely. Would I switch to it entirely as an alternative to the English rite? No. The sense of being an onlooker rather than a participant in the Mass was too palpable and you can see why even some Popes wrote about Catholic congregations being silent spectators. But the current marginalization of the Latin liturgy is both a monstrous injustice and a serious deprivation for much of the Catholic population in all countries. Only a minority of Catholics in England can easily get to a Latin Mass and savour a rich slice of Catholic history and prayer and I am sure that is the case in most parts of the world. We are incredibly lucky in Reading to have such easy access.

Yet you can get Latin Mass at any concert hall in the world, but as an artistic exercise, not a profound act of worship. No one dares to insist that a mass by Beethoven or Bruckner must be translated into fourth rate English before it is inflicted on the ignorant concert goers. Given the price of concert tickets in most countries, the hall managers would probably have an instant riot on their hands. Similarly for all the shorter prayers and devotional pieces set to incomparable music such as Mozart’s “Ave verum corpus”. Latin is plenty good enough for such masterpieces. Most Shakespeare producers and directors are happy with the English of 1600 without going in for a simplifying translation into the English of 2009. Is the Latin Mass less worthy of reverence than “Hamlet”?

Thoughts After Easter

Guildford, 30 miles south-east of Reading, is a town I have driven past on numerous occasions, but never visited. I finally got round to it on Easter Monday. What has it got to offer? Well, there is an enormous cathedral, started in 1936 and finished in 1961 after countless interruptions due to WW2 and shortage of funds. By the time it was finished it was only 2 years to go to the "Honest to God" debacle and the on-going crisis of Anglicanism which continues to this day. So maybe it is the one of the last Anglican cathedrals to be built in England, or anywhere else. Like the John Keble church in North London, which I mentioned in a recent post, it has a very distinctive (or unfortunate) 1930s architecture which some have applauded and some have compared to a power station.

The Christian heritage of Guildford overflows in every corner. There is the huge "Friary" shopping mall. In the middle ages there was a friary on the site, which was destroyed under that thieving, murdering, adulterous scoundrel Henry VIII. (Though for the Day: Was he even worse than Tony B Liar? Probably not as Tony is responsible for far more deaths in Iraq and even Henry, whatever his countless shortcomings, was not keen on sodomy or abortion. And both had the brass neck to set themselves up as heads of religious foundations.). Then there was a large house called The Friary. Then, in the 19th century, there was the Friary Brewery. Now commercial change has brought a mall whose interior can hardly be distinguished from a hundred others the length and breadth of Britain.

Further up the picturesque High Street, past the coffee shops and mobile phone retailers, there are the almhouses, founded by a local man who went on to be Archbishop of Canterbury. They are still used 400 years later to house the elderly and still are called a "hospital", in the archaic sense of a place of refuge for the elderly rather than a medical centre. A short distance away there is a very prominent statue of this Archbishop.


Across the road from the almhouses there is Holy Trinity church. The signs outside advertised the multitude of Holy Week activities, including a dramatic reenactment of the Passion around the streets of Guildford on Good Friday. It was performed by a local theatrical group, founded by Peter Hutley, a fervent Catholic convert. They also produce a colossal outdoor play of the Life of Christ in beautiful countryside at nearby Wintershall. It is the nearest we have to the Oberammergau Passion Play. But Oberrammergau is performed only every ten years, while Wintershall happens every summer. See
Recreating the Life of Christ.

Back in Reading it had been a similarly crowded schedule at the much smaller church of St William of York. But it was not the long-time worshippers who were doing all the work. The Latin Mass Society used the church nearly every day for the two weeks before Easter. On some days they were there all day for multiple acts of worship or activities, such as a family picnic on the day before Palm Sunday. Services such "Tenebrae" which I had seen only on obscure websites suddenly appeared on the parish noticeboard for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. Suddenly we mainstream Catholics using the English rite were starting to feel marginalised in our own church.

We ought to feel grateful. For years St William has not had a priest of its own and has been served by the parish priest at St James. But the poor man is horribly over-stretched with multiple duties such as the prison chaplaincy and the diocesan marriage tribunal. If the diocese was going to close any churches, we knew that St William had to be the first for the chop in the Reading area. Its special selling point was its closeness to the University campus, but there is another, larger church, Our Lady of Peace, barely 100 yards from the north-east gate of the campus. St Williams, with only two Masses per week, was grossly underused and was barely more than a dispensable "chapel of ease", despite its devoted congregation.

Now there is at least one Latin Mass every day and at least three Masses on Sunday, plus any number of other services and social activities. There is a fourth Sunday Mass if the Hungarian priest is in town. And the LMS are buying a property for their priest in the area so they are settling in seriously for the long term. And they are advertising for a confessional structure to fit into the "crying room" at the rear of the church. How much longer before they re-convert the sanctuary to the pre-Vatican 2 style, purely for Mass with the priest facing the altar, his back to the congregation? If they are visibly the most active users of the premises, it would be hard to refuse them.

We pray for re-birth and renewal of the Church, but sometimes our prayers are answered in very unexpected ways. The future belongs to the fervent and, to judge from the length of their Holy Week services, the LMS worshippers are fervent. One of our congregation who checked out their Good Friday service in 2008 left well before the end because of the heroic length. She should be grateful we have not adopted the Russian Orthodox style of standing throughout services. One English traveler to old Russia recorded the rigours of Holy Week in a pewless Moscow church: "May God grant us His special help to get through this week! As for the Muscovites, their feet must be made of iron".

Beneath the Waves

Gosport, on the south coast of England, has been a Navy town for centuries. Driving into town I passed signs pointing to the "Institute of Naval Medicine". Not many towns have one of those. What is so special about "Naval Medicine" as opposed to ordinary doctoring? Well, you have all the problems associated with deep sea diving. And the risks of radiation contamination from the reactor in your nuclear submarine. See Institute of Naval Medicine.

Which brings us to the reason for my visit - the Submarine Museum. Not many towns have one of these either and what an enthralling place it is.

In fact Gosport is far more interesting than you might suspect. The main roads and most of the side roads look like the dreariest and most nondescript sections of Reading or any other small to medium sized English town.

But then I passed Holy Trinity Church. The exterior is eye catching enough, with its free standing column of a clock tower separate from the main church.

But the interior is wonderful, with a light filled nave and beautiful decoration.



In front there is a tree in full glorious blossom and to the right a most handsome Georgian house which used to be the vicarage. To judge from the expensive motors outside, this very desirable residence now has more affluent tenants. And immediately to the right of this house was a gate with the baffling name board: "Bastion No 1". Effectively it is a public park. Obviously it is not the only "military" park in the world - think of Battery Park in New York or Fort Canning Park in Singapore. But at least they put "Park" in the title, while the Gosport local council were content to leave this little patch of green with its stark military name, reminding the public of all the Bastions which protected Gosport.

A hundred yards behind the church are two huge slabs of apartments: ugly as mortal sin, erected by developers with the imagination of a mentally retarded flea. It made this little 1696 oasis all the more amazing and unexpected. You might expect it in a historic town in Germany or Italy, but not in functional, military Gosport. To add to the enjoyment, the parish website explains how the ministers of this Anglican church have been of the High Church persuasion for 150 years and spread "catholic" (with a small "c") teaching in the town. See http://www.holytrinitygosport.co.uk/welcome

This little gem is only a few minutes drive from the Submarine Museum. This institution is divided between an ultra-modern building, a very shabby entrance area in the course of reconstruction, various tacky wooden/semipermanent structures and an actual submarine "HMS Alliance".



This stands clear of the water on massive supports and the completely exposed expanse of its hull makes the rusty bits only too clear. But the interior lived up to my expectations of a traditional diesel-electric submarine: horrendously cramped, minimal comfort for the crew. There were levers, wires, piping, switches, dials, consoles and mysterious bits of machinery everywhere, low hanging objects to hurt the tall like me and irregular floors to trip up the unwary.

Our elderly guide had served on "Alliance" and was full of submariner stories. He ran soundtracks to demonstrate the overwhelming noise from the diesel engines and the bowel-loosening sound of a surface warship approaching and dropping depth charges. Obviously they couldn't reproduce the violent shaking of the submarine or the smell of terror as the crew braced for the attack and possibly the last seconds of their lives. Of course they couldn't reproduce all the other smells of submarine life: the cooking, diesel oil, toilets, body odours (no washing, laundry or shaving for weeks on end). He commented that when a submariner took the bus home after a tour of duty he was guaranteed a seat well to himself.......

Outside "HMS Alliance" on the quayside there is a memorial to all the Royal Navy submarines which have been lost. It is poignantly and appropriately headed "Resurgam" (I will rise again). This was also the name of an early submarine. One of the few I recognised was "HMS Thetis". It is a sign of how secret and uncelebrated much of our submarine warfare was. Thetis was not even lost in battle; she sank ignominiously in Liverpool Bay, close to shore, in 1939 before the outbreak of war. A guy opened the interior cap of a torpedo tube not realising that the other end was also open. 99 men died. George Orwell, writing during WW2, described how upset he had been at the highly publicised sinking of Thetis and the desperate attempts to save the crew. He had hardly been able to eat for days at the thought of all those young men suffocating in the cold and darkness of their steel tomb. Now he noted how every one rejoiced when a German U-boat was sunk and fifty fine young men died similarly.



Inside "HMS Alliance" there was a quotation from a WW2 British admiral - "In submarines there is no room for error. You are either alive or dead." Too true. There is limited buoyancy, limited space to evacuate a flooded or burning area, limited oxygen, limited battery power, limited space for spare parts or tools to fix any failures.......

Yet there was space for a most unexpected item. The new museum building had a miniature organ on display. In submarines access space is desperately tight. Every opening is a point of weakness in the pressure hull and so they are kept small. The 21" torpedos could just about slide down through the hatch into the tube area. Similarly this tiny organ could just about fit through the hatch. Until the 1980s such an instrument was standard issue in submarines for religious services. I don't know how often they were used, but the fact that they were permitted in such a cramped vessel speaks volumes about earlier generations' priorities.

Other aspects of British military culture were revealed in the interviews with crew members on a modern nuclear submarine. Obviously the meals are much better nowadays. The "Alliance" veteran described the green bread, tinned food and how they had two choices for dinner - "You ate it or you didn't eat it". With a nuclear reactor you have effectively limitless power to provide refrigeration, water and clean air, so the chefs can be more adventurous and stale food smells are dispersed by the air conditioning. Also an officer was asked about the privileges of rank beneath the waves. "Well, we have a steward to look after us...." Holy Cow. We are taking servants into battle? I as almost as stunned many years ago when a TV documentary showed a steward serving coffee to officers relaxing in the plush wardroom of "HMS Illustrious". But "Illustrious" is an aircraft carrier, almost as big as a liner.

Also there were several signs that even such a functional and serious museum is not immune to the charms of showbiz. The torpedo section obviously contained a long exhibition on Robert Whitehead, the British inventor of the torpedo. A Royal Navy Admiral H.J May commented in 1906: "But for Whitehead, the submarine would remain an interesting toy, and little more". Whitehead married an Austrian lady. One of their granddaughters, a very lovely girl, was invited to the launching of a new Austrian submarine in 1912. She caught the eye of its handsome and courageous commander, one Captain von Trapp. They married and had seven children, but she tragically died of scarlet fever, leaving the youngsters motherless. For the rest of the story, see the"Sound of Music". One display room celebrated the submarine in literature and movies. Obviously Jules Vernes' "20,000 leagues under the sea" and its 1954 movie version held pride of place, but Sean Connery's features adorned the poster for "Red October" and other undersea films showed our unending fascination with this alien and desperately dangerous environment.

Tony Preaches to the Pope

Dear Stan,

Here is a story ("Daily Telegraph@, 8th April 2009) which practically redefines chutzpah. Our former Prime Minister thinks that the Pope should change the Church's teaching on sodomy. How did our Cardinal Cormac ever let this snake into the Church? Mercifully Cormac is retiring soon and being replaced by Vincent Nichols (of Birmingham archdiocese). I like the comment below Damian's article from an American reader who says that he reads the "Daily Telegraph" because the US papers are still besotted with Obama - not for much longer I suspect.....

Tony Blair wants the Pope to rethink his line on homosexuality.
What about Blair's line on abortion?

Prophets of Doom - Cagey Catholic Monarchs

The recent blockbuster "Knowing" rang a distant bell in my memory. In an early scene the Nicholas Cage character's astronomical colleague is stunned. How can Nicholas believe the theory that a pageful of apparently random numbers, written in 1959, contains prophecies of a string of disasters from 1959 to 2009? The incredulous colleague correctly points out that such pattern-seeking theories are a dime a dozen.

The only occasion I met such a theorist in person was in 1978. I was working for the Department of Social Security in Reading and visited a guy who had paid no National Insurance (Social Security tax) for a few years. He lived in a little cottage in an idyllic corner of South Oxfordshire about ten miles north of Reading. He had given up his regular job and was devoting his whole life to deciphering a pattern of words in the Bible. I wish that I had kept detailed notes of his explanation, because I can't remember any significant points of his hypothesis or what great secret he was hoping to unveil to mankind. As I have heard nothing of him since, I assume that his labours were futile.

He was living off his savings - very frugally, as he had a wife and two children, who allegedly fully supported him. I wrote my report and the case was filed away as he was doing nothing illegal; if you do no paid work, you pay no National Insurance.

Plainly the Cage character has an equally sympathetic employer, as he seems to be able to absent himself from his official duties at M.I.T. whenever the spirit moves him. But maybe M.I.T is more spiritual than you might suspect from its sternly rationalist title. In this movie, the first view you enjoy of its campus is centred on a most imposing domed building that could well be a temple or basilica.

Admittedly the spiritual themes in "Knowing" are pursued with as much subtlety as an air raid. The dazzling ascension into the spaceship accompanied by angelic figures and a torrent of light, the apocalyptic destruction of mankind (in effect by fire from Heaven), the final images of two innocent humans in a glorious landscape dominated by a magnificent tree......haven't we been here before? In the End is the Beginning, to be sure. But the fact that the scriptwriters pressed the traditional spiritual buttons shows some marginal lip service to the core beliefs of most Americans. Of course they also pushed the filmmaker's favourite emotional button (Children in Peril) with the zeal of a lab rat hitting the Food switch.

All the above special effects were exceedingly bloody impressive on a $50 million budget, a pittance by Hollywood blockbuster standards. It also paid for a spectacular air disaster, a forest fire and the most insanely over-the-top train wreck I have seen since "Speed". (Gentlemen, subway trains, in New York, or anywhere else, just don't go fast enough to create such mayhem.) I couldn't complain about the bang for my bucks, even in a typically over-priced British multiplex. It certainly pays to shoot movies in Australia rather than in a Los Angeles studio. But were there any wider lessons we might draw?

One obvious lesson is that all the dollars on the planet can't guarantee a half-decent screenplay. You might object that asking for any internal coherence or intelligent story development in a major movie is an inherently silly request. You would have a better chance of finding the truth in a British tabloid. But the very title "Knowing" and the early part of the film, where logical thought is needed to decipher the code, might raise some hope of a moderately thought provoking fable.

Sadly, "Knowing" is so appallingly written and realised that the numerous logical contradictions in the screenplay are simply evaded in a parade of stunning special effects, and any intelligent story development is crushed by a series of creepy or baffling incidents. Why the presumably super-intelligent extraterrestrials spent their time hanging around the hero's home like a bunch of dim witted kiddy fiddlers instead of evacuating more of the human race or working out a way to deflect the Sun's wrath and save us all......well, that's a mystery known only to God and (maybe) the scriptwriters. If you believe the prophecy written down by the little girl in 1959, these aliens had at least 50 years to evacuate or save us and they did precisely nothing. Or they might have made the message less cryptic in the first place and allowed us a chance to save ourselves.

Of course prophecy is an inherently contradictory business. If you accurately predict the future and someone believes you and tries to change it, the prophecy is falsified. The only satisfactory story of prophecy that I am aware of is, of course, Macbeth. The witches' prophecies are entirely "true"; they are sufficiently accurate to lure Macbeth into mortal sin. Yet they are also sufficiently misleading to deny him a moment's genuine benefit or peace of soul and eventually lead him to utter spiritual and physical destruction. And the story is structured so that the anti-hero progresses through his prophesied future with a predestined inevitability.

400 years after Shakespeare, it would be nice to think that highly paid filmmakers would be prepared to face the implicit contradictions of prophecy in an interesting way, but no such luck. Perhaps we should just be grateful for any sympathetic treatment of religious attitudes in a major movie. It was particular refreshing to see the hero's quietly decent pastor father portrayed in a positive light instead as a nutcase, bigot or charlatan.

I have speculated in the past that popular culture provides ways of preparing the public for radical changes in scientific perception. The most obvious recent example is "Sex and the City". The completely irresponsible behaviour of four promiscuous women in New York, the AIDS capital of the planet, was a pretty merciless mockery of the horseshit fed to the public for years by the AIDS industry. Similarly the role played by the Sun's fluctuations in the heating of the earth in "Knowing" looks like an equally savage mockery of the "CO2 = Global Warming" yarn we are still being sold in the face of mounting evidence to the contrary.

Is "Knowing" another straw in the wind, signalling abandonment of crassly rational explanations and looking instead for salvation from the Heavens? There have been a few signs recently, in the most unexpected places. On 3rd April, I saw the word "GOD" in enormous letters on a magazine cover in W H Smiths newsagents, not normally a hotbed of piety. No, it was not on the cover of "The Tablet" or "The Church Times". The "New Statesman", normally a left wing political mag appealing to a small number of people who still take left wing thought seriously, was running a special issue on religion.

Given the contributers, I took it about as seriously as you could take "Knowing" on cosmology or prophecy. Here were all the Usual (gruesome) Suspects. Christopher Hitchens (but not his religious brother Peter), Richard Dawkins, Polly Toynbee..... A few of the more reliably on-message theists, such as A. N. Wilson, were wheeled on. Since writing "The Death of God" (around 1999), Wilson claims to have found God alive again.

The Chief Rabbi, Dr Jonathan Sacks, was permitted a typically intelligent three column inches...about the same as our ever-asinine George Monbiot, the noisiest promoter of the religion of global warming. Good to see that Prophets of Doom are still given a hearing. But given the 3 pages devoted to Hitchens and Dawkins combined, you knew where the NS editor's sympathies lay. No danger of the good Rabbi or any competent Catholic theologian being given three pages. Yet the fact remains that religion is a prime factor in human affairs and cannot be ignored even by a handful of eminent atheists in major Western cities.

Religious problems just keep breaking out, like an itch the secularists cannot quite reach to scratch properly. The bruhaha over the recent idiotic Parliamentary Bill allowing the heir to the Throne to marry a Catholic is a prime example. I pointed out that such permission could mean that the Monarch after next might be a Catholic head of a Protestant Church of England. Not according to the fine print on the front of "The Daily Telegraph" (who usually get their religious facts straight). Any spouse of the heir would have to agree that their children be brought up as Protestants. So the heir could marry a Catholic as long as she was a bad Catholic. What if the spouse was a Jew (bearing in mind that Jewish identity is transmitted via the mother).....or a Muslim....or a devout Hindu?? Er, better to drop the whole dumb affair and keep on offending only Catholics.

The recent appointment of our new Catholic Archbishop of Westminster, Vincent Nichols, attracted plenty of space in the secular press. The discussion on his merits was conducted in grossly secular terms, but the fact that they thought this item deserved the column inches is another sign that the Death of God has been greatly exaggerated.

And as I write, BBC Radio 4 is transmitting a documentary discussing the politics and legal status of the Church of England. Should it continue to be the recognised State Church, with the hereditary monarch as its anointed head and seats reserved for Anglican bishops in the House of Lords? How can the Church in England be boxed in by foreign Anglican Churches (who comprise the majority of Anglicans and inconveniently keep insisting on traditional Christian teachings) AND adapt to the sexual practices of 21st century Britain (including the practices of its monarch)? One of the contributers blamed Richard Dawkins for stirring the pot and raising the anomalies of the C of E's position. Perhaps we should be grateful to the troublesome professor for raising the public profile of religion.

Another contributer on the program pointed out another aspect of the "Catholic Monarch" debate. If the Monarch became Catholic, he would be anointed at his Coronation by an "Archbishop" whose priestly consecration was "null and void" according to the Pope's encyclical "Apostolicae Curae" (On the Nullity of Anglican Orders) of 1896. Holy Cow, we are getting the Latin title of an encyclical issued 113 years ago quoted over the secular BBC radio waves.

The future remains unknown, but it seems that the prophets of the death of religion still have a very long and futile wait ahead of them.

Dear Stan,

Hope that all goes well with your work deadlines. A bit of light relief from the "Daily Mash" on the G20 meeting, which is probably more accurate than the acres of "serious" commentary on the subject:

G20 PRODUCES ONE TRILLION DOLLARS FROM BEHIND YOUR EAR

At least one commentator reckons that the trillion dollar figure is a smoke-and-mirrors illusion.

Also an exclusive revelation on what happened when the Obamas met the Royals - though the real life antics of the Royal family are much funnier. See Kitty Kelly's book on "The Royals". If you add up all the rumours, Prince Charles has at least one brother and sister who are not related to each other.

I TAKE MY COFFEE BLACK - LIKE MY WOMEN, SAYS QUEEN

Spirit of the Age - from John Keble to Hitler

I always enjoy the motto:

He who marries the spirit of the age soon becomes a widower. As with great art, faith that lasts is faith that answers to higher standards than today’s trends.

—attributed to Dean Inge, St. Paul’s Cathedral, London.

This was visually demonstrated years ago when I took a wrong turn when driving in Mill Hill in north London. While passing the rows of ordinary houses in this very ordinary suburban road I saw a building which made me slam on the brakes and pull over immediately.

I had never seen a church, or indeed any other structure, quite like John Keble Church.

There can't be many churches named in honour of one of the leading lights in the 19th century Oxford Movement within Anglicanism which spawned Cardinal John Henry Newman. (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Keble). But it was not its name which was so arresting; its design was eye-popping. It was a church which had been designed to be ultra modern for the 1930s. The London sprawl and the electric railway had just reached out to nearby Edgware and created the need for new Anglican parishes.

The architect had obviously chosen a style which he conceived as fitting for the 1930s, as much of its time as the new railway stations on the line up from Central London or the semi-detached houses with their state-of-the-art radios and electric light all around it. A few very affluent families in the area would have had a car and, who knows, one or two might even have had a TV. The BBC started the first regular high-definition (405 line) transmissions in 1936, the same year John Keble was completed, and Mill Hill was within range of the only hi-def transmitter in the world.

Plainly any old-fashioned notions of church design were as ridiculous in 1930s suburban London as a horse and buggy. I don't know to what extent the clergy aided and abetted the design, or if it was done over their dead bodies.

As a result John Keble Church is now almost grotesquely dated and somehow much more old-fashioned than the thousands of beautiful older churches throughout the land. These ancient buildings, whether Gothic, Victorian or Norman in style, have a timeless quality while John Keble merely looks very odd. Hardly any other English churches in the interwar period were built in this style, which makes it even more of a curiosity.

The only remotely comparable church I have seen anywhere is the Sacred Heart in Prague, built a few years earlier. That is also one of a kind, but the boldness of its conception and detailing, especially the enormous clock, works far better than its London contemporary and it has aged very well.



I first saw the Sacred Heart from the top of the nearby TV tower. This started construction as a Communist era prestige project but by the the time it was completed in 1992 the old regime had been swept away. The TV tower's restaurant was decorated in a strange mixture of darkish blue materials; this was probably some local designer's idea of what was ultra-chic in 1980s terms, but it now looked as passe as John Keble.

John Keble Church is a terrific metaphor for the religious and secular fashions which now look even more dated and bizarre. At the time, of course, the 1936 Olympics were in full swing and the great and the good were queuing up to praise the wondrous things Herr Hitler was doing in Germany: eliminating unemployment, building a nation wide freeway system 20 years before the USA got started, launching the first public TV broadcasts in the world (in Berlin in 1935), promoting technological advances of every kind. The first jet aircraft in the world would be German and take to the air three years later.

As a recent article pointed out, the 1936 Olympics were the first truely "modern" Olympics in many ways: the first to be televised, as well as the first to have mass commercial sponsorship and the hokey "torch marathon" from the original Olympic site (this latter spectacle was invented by Hitler's propaganda geniuses).

If Herr Hitler was not quite your cup of tea, there were astonishing reports of Comrade Stalin's successes in boosting Soviet GNP, building a whole new egalitarian society and abolishing poverty. The Western parliamentary democracies with their mass unemployment and social injustice were plainly on their way out.

By the 1960s both Stalin and Hitler were SO five minutes ago, almost as dated as John Keble's architecture, and their erstwhile advocates were widowers indeed. The surviving Hitlerites and Stalinists had mostly either reinvented themselves as devote democrats or retreated into embarrassed silence, though a few faithful followers still preached the discredited "gospels." All popular opinion (as interpreted by the noisier media pundits) was now allegedly on the side of a new revolution in church and secular life: for the Mass in the vernacular, sexual liberation, overthrow of traditional authority (in favour of liberating politicians such as Castro, Ho Chi Minh and Chairman Mao), the worship of youth and the denigration of traditional culture in favour of new music, art, etc.

All these trends have either been abandoned, savagely ridiculed or produced horribly sour grapes. So we have yet another generation of widows and widowers. As I noted in a recent posting, you can tell the 1968 party is over when even "Le Monde" is willing to see the dark side of Fidel Castro.

Of course a few aging rebels still preach the liberationist gospel, most hilariously our own Polly Toynbee who only recently was vigorously defending the Permissive Society of her long-ago youth in the 1960s. Even Members of Parliament in her beloved Labour Party are unhappy at the fruits of the Swinging Sixties, if only because they are so horribly expensive at a time when the country is nearly bankrupt. It was all very well squeezing responsible families to support the feckless in the good times, but now in 2009 one parent families are a luxury we can't afford and can't get rid of.

And the vernacular Mass, the most visible relic of the 1960s turmoil in the Church? It is still surviving, but the liturgical revolution has never produced the great results anticipated 40 years ago - certainly not in terms of church attendance, which has been going downhill like an Olympic ski run. The English translations varied from banal to crass, and like the one parent families, proved horribly expensive as the one approved translator had monopoly rights. No one adopted the dignified existing translations by scholars such as Ronald Knox; these had the serious disadvantage that there was no money to be screwed out of a faithful congregation.



For a while the religious revoltionaries assumed that the Latin Mass would fade away with the aging generation still devoted to it. But who is turning up at the Latin Mass in our own St William of York? Certainly a few of the pre-Vatican 2 parishioners, but an astonishing number of mini-vans full of young families, plus students from the adjacent University. The future of the Latin oddly looks more assured than the vernacular.

Limits to Unity & the Monarchy

Dear Stan,

As a follow up to the pro-abortion "Catholic" politician row, here is a link to an article in the ever-excellent Touchstone magazine with reveals the chaotic and divided attitudes to abortion within US Christian churches. Yet again it highlights the vacuity of so much well meaning waffle on the importance of "Christian unity". If we cannot get agreement even on this issue, what on earth can "Christians" agree on?

http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=22-02-039-c

The old saying "Divide and conquer" springs to mind.

I am also reminded of an article in "Faith" magazine years ago. It looked back to a very different Britain in late 1949 when there had been a lengthy exchange of letters in "The Times" on the subject of Church reunion. In one letter a Catholic bishop had courteously but firmly explained why Catholics and Anglicans could not logically say the Lord's prayer together. They would attach different meanings even to phrases such as "Thy Kingdom come". In this phrase a Catholic would be praying for the world wide establishment of the Catholic church, while the Anglican standing beside him in Christian fellowship would be praying for...er, something else, probably vague in the best Anglican tradition. Such a straight forward and clear thinking recognition of the real problems is absent in the ecumenical droning from modern pulpits.

This basic confusion and reluctance to face bedrock principles is evident this week, with the debate in Parliament on a Private Members Bill to remove one of the few remaining legal pieces of "discrimination" against Catholics. The heir to the throne cannot marry a Catholic without losing the right to secede to the throne. (This became a very faint possibility in the 1970s when Prince Charles' name was paired with Princess Astrid of Luxemburg, who is Catholic. Nothing came of it and she married someone else). But the "discrimination" against Catholics was ignorantly denounced as if it was the equivalent of racial discrimination. After all, no law explicitly forbids the heir from marrying a Jew, a Muslim, a Hindu or an atheist on pain of disinheritance.

Yet a fundamental issue of principle still exists and cannot be wished away on the basis of modern whims about "injustice" or "discrimination". Hardly anyone admits that there can be just discrimination. Admittedly British Airways can still discriminate against blind pilots and our hospitals are not forced to accept the mentally disabled as brain surgeons - well, not yet. But only one or two people pointed out one blindingly obvious fact. What if the heir Prince William marries a Catholic and they bring up their children as Catholics, as the Church has always demanded? The monarch after next will be a Catholic head of an Anglican church.

Fortunately the Bill has failed. But the fact that it could even be introduced and waste Parliamentary time and media space speaks volumes about the shallowness of understanding in this country of basic principles of religion and morality.

It is another aspect of the problem I described in an earlier blog. Just about everyone denounces pedophiles as viler than the vilest of the vile, Beasts, Monsters, hanging's too good for them..... But hardly anyone has a coherent understanding of WHY it is wrong and why our enthusiasm for total sexual liberation for adults leads inevitably to the sexual abuse of children.

Randall Terry - Archbishop Burke Discussion

Dear Stan

I am reminded of the time my Canadian friend declared in horrified disbelief: "You never heard of Wayne Gretsky?" Well, no. Hardly anyone in England has. Ice hockey just isn't a British sport despite efforts to introduce it. The only hockey played here on a large scale is on grass and mostly by girls and even that gets about as much national media coverage as the Chess championships. Most British people would be pushed to name a single grass hockey player, much less an ice hockey star. The British sports scene is utterly dominated by Soccer.

In the same spirit I feel singularly unqualified to jump in on the Randall Terry/Archbishop Burke discussion, seeing as I have never heard of either of these estimable figures before. But total ignorance of a subject plainly never discourages any British media pundits, so here goes. As the British newspaper motto goes: "Never let the facts get in the way of a good story."

Based on about 15 minutes Googling, it seems the bruhaha centres on the attempts to publicly discipline Catholic politicians who have no qualms about supporting abortion - with Randall Terry leading a delegation to Rome to lobby various high placed Vatican officials on the visible infidelity of some American Catholic bishops in their attitudes to abortion and other crucial aspects of doctrine. I loved the title of the brief they presented to these title "Oves sine pastores" (Sheep without a shepherd). It is reminder of the Latin titling of encyclicals. Except that here the correspondence is going the other way from the faithful to the pastors.

Terry interviewed Archbishop Burke on videotape to discuss the attitude of bishops in denying Communion to pro-abortion politicians. The Archbishops makes remarks that are clearly critical of those US bishops who do not deny Communion to such politicians. (That is assuming the substantial accuracy of the transcript I have read - see http://www.ahumbleplea.com/Docs/ArchbishopBurkeTranscript.pdf )

The Archbishop's statement (see http://blog.beliefnet.com/pontifications/ ) of 26th March is plainly laughable and indicates that like so many senior clergy (most notably our own ludicrous Archbishop of Canterbury) he just ain't bright enough for the job. Once you have put your views on videotape and the videomaker has left the room, you have no control over how it is going to be edited, distributed or projected. Even if replays of the tape had just been restricted to a small number of pro-life activists, did he imagine that his criticisms of his fellow bishops would remain confidential?

The Archbishop's comments have plainly hugely and deservedly embarrassed many of the US hierarchy. Other clergy around the world must have similarly burning ears; what about those English clergy who accepted Tony B Liar into the Church in the face of overwhelming evidence about his long anti-Catholic record while Prime Minister, as I noted in an earlier blog?

It is heartening to see such militancy in the face of the abortionists. How far they can pursue other aspects of the campaign, such as publicly stigmatising any ordinary Catholic who voted for Obama...well, that is going to make any divisions between Latin Mas enthusiasts and other Catholics pale into insignificance.