Sir Edward Burne-Jones, window of St George's Chapel, Christ Church, Oxford

St Cecilia's Tomb, St Wilfrid's Chapel, London Oratory

Remembrance Sunday

Dicit Dóminus: Ego cógito cogitatiónes pacis, et non afflictiónis: invocábitis me, et ego exáudiam vos: et redúcam captivitátem vestram de cunctis locis.

Hallowmas

'non est paenitentiae locus, o vir carissime, nam hodie nihil potest me peturbare! gaude, nam Quidam tandem abiit! etiam Muggles similes tui debent celebrare hunc laetum, laetum diem!'

Shrine of St Frideswide, Christ Church, Oxford

Suddenly, everyone's going on pilgrimages.

Just as the Latin Mass Society was winding up its annual pilgrimage to Walsingham (see here and here - and trust me, compared to some walks it was pretty normal), The Daily Telegraph was puffing a (reconstructed, as it happens) walking pilgrimage route for St Cedd in Essex. (The author of the article himself has a new book out*, which looks interesting, though there's also a link to the website of the British Pilgrimage Trust.)

And not wishing to be, er, left behind, my own alma mater has got in on the act. Apparently there's now a St Frideswide pilgrimage "from Oxford to Reading". That in and of itself sounds weird of course, because she's buried in Oxford. But in fact the route connects up to the Camino Inglés, which of course ends up beyond the mountains and across the sea... in the Field of Stars.

*The Spectator reviewed it back in March. Apparently he mentions these nutters at Wayland's Smithy. (It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door...)

JMW Turner, 'Canterbury Gate, Christ Church' [H/T: Andrew Cusack]

'More things are wrought by prayer / Than this world dreams of'

Next morning he was up and washed and dressed, all but his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten minutes' bell began to ring, and then in the face of the whole room knelt down to pray. Not five words could he say - the bell mocked him; he was listening for every whisper in the room - what were they all thinking of him? He was ashamed to go on kneeling, ashamed to rise from his knees. At last, as it were from his inmost heart, a still small voice seemed to breathe forth the words of the publican, 'God, be merciful to me a sinner!' He repeated them over and over, clinging to them as for his life, and rose from his knees comforted and humbled, and ready to face the whole world.

[Tom Brown's School Days (1857)]

"Gentlemen, " said Sir Henry presently, in his deep voice, "we are going on about as strange a journey as men can make in this world. It is very doubtful if we can succeed in it. But we are three men who will stand together for good or for evil to the last. And now before we start let us for a moment pray to the Power who shapes the destinies of men, and who ages since has marked out our paths, that it may please Him to direct our steps in accordance with His will."

Taking off his hat, for the space of a minute or so, he covered his face with his hands, and Good and I did likewise.

I do not say that I am first-rate praying man, few hunters are, and as for Sir Henry I never heard him speak like that before, and only once since, though deep down in his heart I believe that he is very religious. Good too is pious, though apt to swear. Anyhow I do not remember, excepting on one single occasion, ever putting in a better prayer in my life than I did during that minute, and somehow I felt happier for it. Our future was so completely unknown, and I think the unknown and the awful always bring a man nearer to his Maker.

[King Solomon's Mines (1885)]

'These are Daeron's Runes, such as were used of old in Moria,' said Gandalf. 'Here is written in the tongues of Men and Dwarves:

BALIN SON OF FUNDIN

LORD OF MORIA.'

'He is dead then,' said Frodo. 'I feared it was so.' Gimli cast his hood over his face. 

[The Lord of the Rings (1953)]

And the Pope has cast his arms abroad for agony and loss,

And called the kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross,

The cold queen of England is looking in the glass;

The shadow of the Valois is yawning at the Mass[.]

Prince Philip on his part in the Assisi Scandal

He who eats goose on Michaelmas day;
Shan’t money lack or debts pay.

'After all, a weed is just a plant in a place you don't want it to be.' 

[Miss Marple]

Ah, you should see Cynddylan on a tractor.

Gone the old look that yoked him to the soil;

He is a new man now, part of the machine,

His nerves of metal, and his blood oil.

The clutch curses, but the gears obey

His least bidding, and lo, he’s away

Out of the farmyard, scattering hens.

Riding to work now as a great man should,

He is the knight at arms breaking the fields’

Mirror of silence, emptying the wood

Of foxes and squirrels and bright jays.

The sun comes over the tall trees

Kindling all the hedges, but not for him

Who runs his engine on a different fuel.

And all the birds are singing, bills wide in vain,

As Cynddylan passes proudly up the lane.

Free fruit!

(Feeling like a morning's work well done!)

'Yew that is old in churchyard-mould...'

— Oliver McCarthy (@OTGMcCarthy1979) July 22, 2024

Edward Burne-Jones, The Merciful Knight (1863)

She turns up in the most unexpected places!

Our Lady of the Wolves (aka Our Lady of the Thunder Candle, the Polish version of Candlemas) appears on the arms of the Metropolitan Borough of Westminster. pic.twitter.com/4OYtBF2btg

— Faith and Fatherland (@Faith_and_Land) July 4, 2024

Statue of St. Etheldreda and relic casket containing her incorrupt hand

St Etheldreda’s Church, Ely Place, London

Empire Day

I. With voice and solemn music sing,

Loud let the pealing trumpets ring!

To-day our hands consolidate

The Empire of a thousand years,

Delusive hopes, distracting fears,

Have passed and left her great.

For Britain, Britain, we our voices raise,

Uplift your voices all, worthy is she of praise!

II. Our England at the call of Fate

Left her lone islets in the sea.

Donned her Imperial robe and state,

Took the sole sceptre of the Free!

'Mid clang of arms her Empire rose,

Embattled rolls her story down,

By shattered fleet, and flaming town,

Victorious over all her foes,

Soldier and sailor side by side,

Her strong sons bravely dared and died!

Close on their steps her dauntless toilers went,

O'er unknown sea and pathless continent,

And left, when years of strife were done

The proudest realm beneath the sun.

Praise them and Her, your grateful voices raise,

Mother of Freedom! worthy art thou of praise!

III. No more we seek our realm's increase

By savage war, but white-winged peace,

To-day we seek to bind in one,

Till all our England's work be done.

Through wider knowledge closer grown,

As each fair sister by the rest is known,

And mutual Commerce, mighty to efface

The envious bars of Time and Place,

Our great world Empire's ev'ry part,

And through a common speech expressed――

From North to South, from East to West,

Deep pulsing from a common heart,

An universal Britain strong

To 'stablish right and beat down wrong!

Let this thing be - who shall our realm divide?

We stand, to sink or triumph side by side!

IV. To-day we would make free

The millions of their glorious heritage.

Here, Labour crowds in hopeless misery;

There, is unbounded work and ready wage.

The salt breeze calling, stirs our Northern blood,

Lead we the toilers to their certain goal;

Guide we their feet to where

Is spread, for those who dare,

A happier Britain ’neath an ampler air.

V. First lady of our English race,

'Tis well that with thy Jubilee,

This glorious dream begins to be:

This thy lost consort would, this would thy son,

Who had seen all thine Empire face to face,

And fain would leave it one.

Oh, may the Hand which rules our Fate,

Keep this our Britain great!

We cannot tell, we can but pray

Heaven's blessing on our work today.

Rise palace fair, where all may see

This proud embodied unity,

For Britain and Queen one voice we raise,

Laud them, rejoice, peal forth,

worthy are they of praise!

Yo have you *seen* England rn? pic.twitter.com/8M5CX8F7z7

— Ancient Earthling (@Dust_Foot) May 12, 2024

Coronation Day

O singular happiness of St John to have stood under the Cross of Christ, so near His divine person, when the other disciples had all forsaken Him! O extraordinary privilege, to have suffered Martyrdom in the person of Jesus and been eye-witness of all He did or endured and of all that happened to Him, in that great sacrifice and mystery. Here he drank of his cup; this was truly a Martyrdom and our Saviour exempted all those who had assisted at the Martyrdom of His Cross, from suffering death by the hands of persecutors. St John, nevertheless, received also the crown of this second Martyrdom, to which the sacrifice of his will, was not wanting but only the execution.

[Tertullian, quoted in Guéranger]

Quia si quis auditor est verbi et non factor, hic conparabitur viro consideranti vultum nativitatis suae in speculo. Consideravit enim se et abiit et statim oblitus est qualis fuerit.

Post dies octo

Caravaggio, 'The Incredulity of Saint Thomas'

'Respóndit Thomas et dixit ei: Dóminus meus et Deus meus.'

'Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.'

— Oliver McCarthy (@OTGMcCarthy1979) April 5, 2024

Fools! For I also had my hour;

One far fierce hour and sweet:

There was a shout about my ears,

And palms before my feet.

 

Amen, amen dico vobis, nisi granum frumenti cadens in terram, mortuum fuerit, ipsum solum manet: si autem mortuum fuerit, multum fructum affert. 

[St John 12:24-5]

'It is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in Spring, or a blight in Summer, and they fail of their promise.' 

'Yet seldom do they fail of their seeds,' said Legolas. 'And that will lie in the dust and rot to spring up again in times and places unlooked-for. The deeds of Men will outlast us, Gimli.' 

'And yet come to naught in the end but might-have-beens, I guess,' said the Dwarf. 

'To that the Elves know not the answer,' said Legolas. 

['The Last Debate']

Dan Wilson, 'Carrying Us Home'

O felicem virum, beatum Ioseph, cui datum est Deum, quem multi reges voluerunt videre et non viderunt, audire et non audierunt, non solum videre et audire, sed portare, deosculari, vestire et custodire!

This evening I popped into my (work) local to celebrate the only King of England to receive the palm of martyrdom - with a swift half of mead!

St George Hare, The Victory of Faith (1891)

Pully Lug Day

Philip lived in an atmosphere of sunshine and gladness which brightened all who came near him. " When I met him in the street," says one, "he would pat my cheek and say, ' Well, how is Don Pellegrino ?' and leave me so full of joy that I could not tell which way I was going." Others said that when he playfully pulled their hair or their ears, their hearts would bound with joy. 

[St Philip Neri]

Ash Wednesday

Diffugere nives, redeunt iam gramina campis
Arboribusque comae;
Mutat terra vices et decrescentia ripas
Flumina praetereunt;

Gratia cum Nymphis geminisque sororibus audet
Ducere nuda choros.
Immortalia ne speres, monet annus et almum
Quae rapit hora diem.

Frigora mitescunt Zephyris, ver proterit aestas
Interitura, simul
Pomifer autumnus fruges effuderit, et mox
Bruma recurrit iners.

Damna tamen celeres reparant caelestia lunae;
Nos ubi decidimus,
Quo pius Aeneas, quo dives Tullus et Ancus,
Pulvis et umbra sumus.

Quis scit an adiciant hodiernae crastina summae
Tempora di superi?
Cuncta manus avidas fugient heredis, amico
Quae dederis animo.

Cum semel occideris et de te splendida Minos
Fecerit arbitria,
Non, Torquate, genus, non te facundia, non te
Restituet pietas;

Infernis neque enim tenebris Diana pudicum
Liberat Hippolytum,
Nec Lethaea valet Theseus abrumpere caro
Vincula Pirithoo.

'The snows are fled away, leaves on the shaws
And grasses in the mead renew their birth,
The river to the river-bed withdraws,
And altered is the fashion of the earth.

'The Nymphs and Graces three put off their fear
And unapparelled in the woodland play.
The swift hour and the brief prime of the year
Say to the soul, Thou wast not born for aye.

'Thaw follows frost; hard on the heel of spring
Treads summer sure to die, for hard on hers
Comes autumn with his apples scattering;
Then back to wintertide, when nothing stirs.

'But oh, whate'er the sky-led seasons mar,
Moon upon moon rebuilds it with her beams;
Come we where Tullus and where Ancus are
And good Aeneas, we are dust and dreams.

'Torquatus, if the gods in heaven shall add
The morrow to the day, what tongue has told?
Feast then thy heart, for what thy heart has had
The fingers of no heir will ever hold.

'When thou descendest once the shades among,
The stern assize and equal judgment o'er,
Not thy long lineage nor thy golden tongue,
No, nor thy righteousness, shall friend thee more.

'Night holds Hippolytus the pure of stain,
Diana steads him nothing, he must stay;
And Theseus leaves Pirithous in the chain
The love of comrades cannot take away.'

[Horace, Odes IV, vii (trans. A E Housman)]

'Pulvis et umbra sumus We are dust and shadows' is an oddly Thomistic note for the western world's favourite poet to strike in what is possibly his most striking poem. It always seems particularly appropriate though at this time of year. The picture, of course, is Poussin's superbly mysterious 'A Dance to the Music of Time'.

Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris

Egg Saturday, Collop Monday, "Fat" Tuesday, and...

St. John of Matha founded the Trinitarians to ransom captives and support the Crusades 

 

Sexagesima

'A ſower went out to ſow his ſeed...' 

[St Luke, viii, 5]

Oskar Martin Amorbach, 'The Sower'

Vobis datum est * nosse mystérium regni Dei, céteris autem in parábolis, dixit Iesus discípulis suis.

There is nothing on this earth more to be prized than true friendship.

Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious.

[St Thomas Aquinas]

Happy Australia Day!

Burns Night is really First Vespers of Australia Day. Discuss. https://t.co/l94lblJckS

— Oliver McCarthy (@OTGMcCarthy1979) January 25, 2024

Sir Ninian Comper, St Sebastian, Downside Abbey (1918)

Christian Albrecht von Benzon, 'Murder of Canute the Holy' (1843)

The Saint, the Centaur, and the Satyr

Francesco Guarino, St. Anthony the Abbot and the Centaur (1642)

According to St Jerome,

The blessed Paul had already lived on earth the life of heaven for a hundred and thirteen years, and Antony at the age of ninety was dwelling in another place of solitude (as he himself was wont to declare), when the thought occurred to the latter, that no monk more perfect than himself had settled in the desert. However, in the stillness of the night it was revealed to him that there was farther in the desert a much better man than he, and that he ought to go and visit him. So then at break of day the venerable old man, supporting and guiding his weak limbs with a staff, started to go: but what direction to choose he knew not. Scorching noontide came, with a broiling sun overhead, but still he did not allow himself to be turned from the journey he had begun. Said he, I believe in my God: some time or other He will show me the fellow-servant whom He promised me. He said no more. All at once he beholds a creature of mingled shape, half horse half man, called by the poets Hippocentaur. At the sight of this he arms himself by making on his forehead the sign of salvation, and then exclaims, Holloa! Where in these parts is a servant of God living? The monster after gnashing out some kind of outlandish utterance, in words broken rather than spoken through his bristling lips, at length finds a friendly mode of communication, and extending his right hand points out the way desired. Then with swift flight he crosses the spreading plain and vanishes from the sight of his wondering companion. But whether the devil took this shape to terrify him, or whether it be that the desert which is known to abound in monstrous animals engenders that kind of creature also, we cannot decide. 

Antony was amazed, and thinking over what he had seen went on his way. Before long in a small rocky valley shut in on all sides he sees a mannikin with hooked snout, horned forehead, and extremities like goats’ feet. When he saw this, Antony like a good soldier seized the shield of faith and the helmet of hope: the creature none the less began to offer to him the fruit of the palm-trees to support him on his journey and as it were pledges of peace. Antony perceiving this stopped and asked who he was. The answer he received from him was this: I am a mortal being and one of those inhabitants of the desert whom the Gentiles deluded by various forms of error worship under the names of Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi. I am sent to represent my tribe. We pray you in our behalf to entreat the favour of your Lord and ours, who, we have learned, came once to save the world, and ‘whose sound has gone forth into all the earth.’ As he uttered such words as these, the aged traveller’s cheeks streamed with tears, the marks of his deep feeling, which he shed in the fullness of his joy. He rejoiced over the Glory of Christ and the destruction of Satan, and marvelling all the while that he could understand the Satyr’s language, and striking the ground with his staff, he said, Woe to you, Alexandria, who instead of God worships monsters! Woe to you, harlot city, into which have flowed together the demons of the whole world! What will you say now? Beasts speak of Christ, and you instead of God worship monsters. He had not finished speaking when, as if on wings, the wild creature fled away. Let no one scruple to believe this incident; its truth is supported by what took place when Constantine was on the throne, a matter of which the whole world was witness. For a man of that kind was brought alive to Alexandria and shown as a wonderful sight to the people. Afterwards his lifeless body, to prevent its decay through the summer heat, was preserved in salt and brought to Antioch that the Emperor might see it. 

[St Jerome, The Life of Paul the First Hermit, 7-8; H/T: The Amish Catholic] 

St Anthony's Fire

 
Happy St Anthony's Day:

On the eve of Saint Anthony’s Day, the small village of San Bartolome de Pinares in Spain was ablaze with tradition and faith. The annual ‘Luminarias’ festival took place on January 16, 2024, where dozens of riders rode their horses through the narrow cobblestone streets and into the heart of flaming bonfires. This centuries-old ritual, dating back 500 years, is a spectacle of purification and protection, designed to safeguard the animals for the year to come with the smoke of the bonfires. 

A Tradition Steeped in History and Faith
The ‘Luminarias’ festival is a significant cultural and religious event in Spain, particularly in the small village of San Bartolome de Pinares. The tradition is held in honor of Saint Anthony Abbot, revered in Spain as the patron saint of animals and the Father of monasticism. The bonfire ritual, where riders guide their horses through the flames, is believed to bless the animals, purifying them and protecting them for the upcoming year. This is a testament to the deep-rooted faith and devotion of the locals to Saint Anthony, reflecting his importance in Spanish culture as a protector of animals.

The Luminarias Festival: A Testament to Cultural Resilience
In the face of modernity, the residents of San Bartolome de Pinares have held steadfastly to their traditions. The ‘Luminarias’ festival, with its bonfire ritual, is a vivid representation of this cultural resilience. The festival serves not only as a religious observance but also as a symbol of community and continuity, bringing residents together in a shared heritage and collective faith. 

Spain’s Luminarias: A Beacon of Tradition in the Modern World
As the world evolves, the ‘Luminarias’ festival stands as a beacon of tradition in the modern world. It encapsulates a unique blend of religion, culture, and community that continues to thrive in the heart of Spain. This annual event, with its ritual of purification and protection, underscores the enduring relevance of traditions and the vital role they play in shaping identities and fostering community spirit. 

[Spain's 'Luminarias' Festival 2024: Faith Meets Tradition]