100 Edifying Lenten Penances

“The Fight Between Carnival and Lent,” Pieter Bruegel the Elder. Recently seen by the author in Brussels. (Source)

The pious among my readers will no doubt be aware that Lent will soon be upon us. Here are 100 ideas for how to have a successful and most fruitful season of penance.

  1. Give up meat
  2. Give up chocolate
  3. Give up alcohol
  4. Give up social media
  5. Give up being a social media influencer
  6. Give up films
  7. Give up naughty films
  8. Give up films that are very naughty but not the ones that are naughty while also being either smart or funny or historically dramatic in a passingly educational sort of way
  9. Give up comic books
  10. Give up music
  11. Give up secular music
  12. Give up Christian praise and worship music (for the love of God and all that is holy)
  13. Give up lobster, though not on Fridays
  14. Give up dairy
  15. Give up various soft cheeses
  16. Give up all cheeses from Poitou-Charente but not anywhere else in France
  17. Give up Netflix
  18. Give up “Netflix”
  19. Give up petting zoos
  20. Give up marsupials
  21. Give up giraffes of any kind
  22. Give up your ignorance of the various kinds of giraffe
  23. Give up spy novels
  24. Give up surprising all of your friends by suddenly screaming at them, apropos of nothing, “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!”
  25. Give up your longstanding telenovela addiction
  26. Give up trying to learn Portuguese in favor of Esperanto
  27. Give up learning Esperanto
  28. Give up reading the poetry of William McGonagall, the Apollo of Dundee
  29. Give up the various birds, stuffed and otherwise, that you are hoarding in your attic and basement
  30. Give up your deeply-rooted habit of eating little fragments of ceramic statues
  31. Give up your swimming lessons
  32. Give up your avoidance of Luton, Slough, and Swindon
  33. Give up the American news cycle
  34. Give up the Busby Berkeley marathons you play in your living room every Friday evening
  35. Give up pretending you are, in fact, the reincarnation of Senhor Doutor Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
  36. Give up whining
  37. Give up long walks in the park
  38. Give up spitting in public
  39. Give up gossip
  40. Give up gossip about me, please
  41. Give up your general wanton demeanor and frowsy mien
  42. Give up the chips
  43. Give up all professional sports
  44. Give up your various simultaneous affairs with the members of the Swazi National Curling Team
  45. Give up the ghost
  46. Give up your collection of Rococo snuff boxes depicting various prince-bishops in ermine
  47. Give up practicing the kazoo at inappropriate hours of the night
  48. Give up Morris dancing
  49. Give up peanut butter and eel jelly sandwiches
  50. Give up your place in line
  51. Give up the furious Mah-Jong tournaments you regularly host for gangs of aged nuns
  52. Give up reciting the poetry of William McGonagall, Bard of Dundee
  53. Give up your participation in the capitalist system enslaving us all
  54. Give up toast
  55. Give up the secret alien knowledge you acquired through highly illegal methods of infiltrating government files
  56. Give up felonies in general
  57. Give up all the Skittles you have hoarded in your closet
  58. Give up the various coffee table books of early brutalist architecture that you have received from work colleagues, many of whom have since passed on
  59. Give up on modern architecture in toto
  60. Give up writing emoji haikus
  61. Give up your shoegaze band, Emoji Haiku
  62. Give up on romance
  63. Give up on romantic comedies
  64. Give up those trashy bodice-rippers they sell in the supermarket book aisle (you know the ones)
  65. Give up your seat in the Académie française
  66. Give up your seat on the train to Timbuktu
  67. Give up your seat on the Parish Council (here’s looking at you, Susan)
  68. Give up your operatic emotional troubles
  69. Give up addressing everyone in song
  70. Give up asserting that you are, in fact, Madama Butterfly
  71. Give up counting time in anything but the Mayan calendar
  72. Give up your general estrangement from Mesoamerican culture
  73. Give up your allergies
  74. Give up your obstinate refusal to learn the Sasquatch language
  75. Give up your unreliable narration
  76. Give up your postmodern metairony
  77. Give up your Twitter account
  78. Give up treating your dogs like children
  79. Give up treating your children like dogs
  80. Give up treating your children better than your cats
  81. Give up your claim to the long-defunct throne of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
  82. Give up your alarming habit of musical flatulence
  83. Give up your covert addiction to locomotive erotica
  84. Give up your understated unibrow
  85. Give up your long-awaited nose job
  86. Give up your embittered attempt to remain Dean of a prominent English Cathedral
  87. Give up memorizing the poetry of William McGonagall, the Orpheus of Dundee
  88. Give up any expectations of amusement
  89. Give up the pipe dream of tenure
  90. Give up your position to the various paramilitary forces that are hunting you through the tundra
  91. Give up break-dancing in public parks
  92. Give up attending Hare Krishna services
  93. Give up any association with the Libertarian Party
  94. Give up all hope, ye who enter here.
  95. Give up the secret recipe
  96. Give up the art your late uncle Oswald took from various museums over the course of his long and chequered career as a forger and art thief
  97. Give up approximately 1/4 of your bone marrow
  98. Give up being lame
  99. Give up all the excuses you always make for not keeping your Lenten penance
  100. Just give up
Advertisements

A Note to My Readers

My dear readers,

I should like to apologize for my long hiatus in writing. This term has been especially busy. I have, for instance, just completed a major research trip on the Continent. Various forces seem to have conspired to prevent me from finding the time to write. However, I have a few posts in mind that will, I hope, appear forthwith. In the meantime, enjoy this lovely image of various Bishops of Ghent in ermine and blue-purple.

Excellent 18th century prelatical dress. Photo taken in Ghent Cathedral by the author, Feb. 2018.


An Oxonian Blog Worth Reading

The dreaming spires of Oxford. (Source)

I have just discovered that Once I Was a Clever Boy, a blog I used to enjoy but was sorry to see in hiatus, has returned. John Whitehead, the blog’s author, is a friend and a Brother of the Little Oratory here in Oxford. He hasn’t put up any new content recently. Nevertheless, there was a long time when for whatever technical reason – either on John’s end or mine, I was never sure – the blog was totally inaccessible. I’m very happy to see it’s back, and I look forward to more content from this quintessentially Oxonian blog.

Happy New Year From The Amish Catholic!

Thus concludes Anno Domini MMXVIII. I hope all my readers had a very fruitful year, and I pray for them all to know many blessings in this coming one. I have a lot to be grateful for this year. I made so many wonderful friends, both via this blog and otherwise. You know who you are. My work seems to be progressing well enough. And I was published in First Things, Jesus The Imagination, and The Church Times. This blog received its 100,000th view. So the year was full of activity.

I also feel that I gained more insight into who I am as a person. I’d like to think that in some ways, at least, I’ve become a more self-aware and honest man, and that I’ve learned a little bit more about humility this year.

I encountered God in new ways at different points of the liturgical year and in various holy places. I befriended new saints.

For all this, I am profoundly grateful.

Here are the top 10 posts I published this year, by readership:

1. The Best Monastic Documentaries

2. Thoughts on Converting the Young

3. A Letter on Loneliness

4. A Relic of the 1965 Liturgy

5. A Forgotten Feast

6. The Art of Amoris Laetitia

7. Pascal and Amoris Laetitia

8. Fr. Faber on Unhappiness

9. Maurice Zundel on Prayer

10. St. Francis de Sales Doesn’t Dance

Incidentally, my main New Year’s resolution for 2019 remains the same as it was in 2018. I don’t know if I lived up to it very well this past year, but I shall strive to do so in the next.

And to conclude my writings here for 2018,

Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and the Holy Spirit,
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.

Faber’s Oxford Poems: Part I

Screen Shot 2018-10-03 at 2.16.56 PM

A view of the Bodleian Library from Radcliffe Square. Photo taken by author.

Fr. Frederick William Faber, that great son of St. Philip, was one of the many Oxford converts. He was a Balliol man who later became a fellow of University College, where he embarked on an ecclesiastical career as an Anglican. Later, of course, he came to the Church of Rome and founded the London Oratory. But as I am now settling back into Oxford, I thought it might my readers might enjoy a few of his poems about life at the University. I’ll probably break the collection up into a few different posts. Although Faber was later famous as a hymn-writer, in his youth he was a Romantic poet who won the admiration of none other than Wordsworth, whom he met in the Lake District. Faber’s style may be rather too Victorian for our tastes today. They also represent his spirituality at a very immature stage, when he was still an Anglican. The contrast between “College Chapel’s” rather pathetic final line and Faber’s “Muscular” pose in “College Hall” amuses, to say the least. But occasionally, as in “College Garden,” his sensuality and yearning anticipate the best of the Decadents who came at the end of the century. Finally, I’ll add that Faber’s romantic attachment to the legends and traditions of the English medieval monastics once again confirms my point that there remains an abiding affinity between the Oratorian and Benedictine charisms. 

College Chapel

A shady seat by some cool mossy spring,
Where solemn trees close round, and make a gloom,
And faint and earthy smells, as from a tomb,
Unworldly thoughts and quiet wishes bring:
Such hast thou been to me each morn and eve;
Best loved when most thy call did interfere
With schemes of toil or pleasure, that deceive
And cheat young hearts; for then thou mad’st me feel
The holy Church more night, a thing to fear.
Sometimes, all day with books, thoughts proud and wild
Have risen, till I saw the sunbeams steal
Through painted glass at evensong, and weave
Their threefold tints upon the marble near,
Faith, prayer, and love, the spirit of a child!

College Hall

Still may the spirit of the ancient days
Rest on our feasts, nor self-indulgence strive
Nor languid softness to invade the rule,
Manly, severe, and chastethe hardy school
Wherein our might fathers learnt to raise
Their souls to Heaven, and virtue best could thrive.
They, who have felt how oft the hour is past
In idle, worldly talk, would fain recall
The brazen Eagle that in times of yore
Was wont to stand in each monastic hall;
From whence the Word, or some old Father’s lore,
Or Latin hymns that spoke of sin and death
Were gravely read; and lowly-listening faith
In silence grew, at feast as well as fast.

College Garden

Sacred to early morn and evening hours,
Another chapel reared for other prayers,
And full of gifts,smells after noon-day showers,
When bright-eyed birds look out from leafy bowers,
And natural perfumes shed on midnight airs,
And bells and old church-clocks and holy towers,
All heavenly images that cluster round.
The rose, and pink acacia, and green vine
Over the fretted wall together twine,
With creepers fair and many, woven up
Into religious allegories, made
All out of strange Church meanings, and inlaid
With golden thoughts, drunk from the dewy cup
Of morns and evenings spent in that dear ground!

College Library

A churchyard with a cloister running round
And quaint old effigies in act of prayer,
And painted banners mouldering strangely there
Where mitered prelates and grave doctors sleep,
Memorials of a consecrated ground!
Such is this antique room, a haunted place
Where dead men’s spirits come, and angels keep
Long hours of watch with wings in silence furled.
Early and late have I kept vigil here:
And I have seen the moonlight shadows trace
Dim glories on the missal’s blue and gold,
The work of my monastic sires that told
Of quiet ages men call dark and drear,
For Faith’s soft light is darkness to the world.

90,000 Views

90000-readers

Never expected this to happen.

Some time this month, The Amish Catholic received its 90,000th view. Thank you to all my readers for sticking with me, arguing with me, referring me, and generally paying attention.

Novena to St. Benedict

HolyTwinsPrint.jpg

A print from The Holy Twins by Tomie dePaola, depicting SS Benedict and Scholastica. (Source)

I hope my readers will join me on a novena to the Patriarch of Western Monks, starting today (July 3rd) and ending on the Feast of St. Benedict, the 11th of July. Here is the prayer I will use, taken from EWTN’s website:

Glorious Saint Benedict, sublime model of virtue, pure vessel of God’s grace! Behold me humbly kneeling at your feet. I implore you in your loving kindness to pray for me before the throne of God. To you I have recourse in the dangers that daily surround me.
Shield me against my selfishness and my indifference to God and to my neighbor.
Inspire me to imitate you in all things. May your blessing be with me always, so that I may see and serve Christ in others and work for His kingdom. Graciously obtain for me from God those favors and graces which I need so much in the trials, miseries and afflictions of life. Your heart was always full of love, compassion and mercy toward those who were afflicted or troubled in any way. You never dismissed without consolation and assistance anyone who had recourse to you. I therefore invoke your powerful intercession, confident in the hope that you will hear my prayers and obtain for me the special grace and favor I earnestly implore.

{mention your petition}

Help me, great Saint Benedict, to live and die as a faithful child of God, to run in the sweetness of His loving will, and to attain the eternal happiness of heaven.

Amen.

My First Year at Grad School in Twelve Musical Selections

Screen Shot 2018-06-22 at 2.00.39 AM.png

A still from Farinelli. This was the year I both became an 18th century scholar and discovered Castrato arias. (Source)

12. “Somebody That I Used to Know” only Vaporwave.

11. “Sumer is Icumen In,” from The Wicker Man (1973).

10. “Demons,” by Alex and “Sleep Games,” by Pye Corner Audio.

9. Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake theme.

8. Psalm 129 from King’s College Choir, Cambridge.

7. The soundtrack from Le Roi Danse.

6. “Never Enough” from The Greatest Showman.

5. “Pur Ti Miro,” by Monteverdi.

4. The Little Match Girl Passion, by David Lang

3. The Farinelli soundtrack.

2. Michael Nyman’s “The Garden is Becoming a Robe Room,” “Prospero’s Magic,” and “Chasing Sheep is Best Left to Shepherds.”

1. Various Arias from Handel, especially Rinaldo‘s “Il Vostro Maggio” and “Lascia Ch’io Piangia” as well as most of “Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne.”

 

Charles Williams, Marriage, and a Shameless Plug

edward_burne-jones_love_among_the_ruins

Love Among the Ruins, Edward Burne-Jones (Source)

I have a very exciting if somewhat tardy announcement. I have some poetry being published in Volume II of Jesus the Imagination, the hot new Sophiological journal by Angelico Press. There’s plenty of other really good material in the journal, too, including work by friends of mine. Plus an interview with the Revolutionary Army of the Infant Jesus! What’s not to love? As far as I’m aware I’m making no money whatsoever off this venture, but I still encourage you to buy a copy (or two, or three) if you want to read my contributions…or just the far more brilliant materials you’ll find there, too.  Either way, I can promise you that Jesus the Imagination won’t disappoint!

225px-Charles_Williams

A portrait of Charles Williams: poet, critic, lecturer, editor, author, sorcerer, mystic (Source)

The theme for this volume is Marriage. As I’m sure many of you know, marriage is an extraordinarily deep mystery in the heart of the Church’s sacramental life, mystical being, quotidien experience, and esoteric practice. To celebrate, I am reproducing here a poem by Charles Williams that scratches the surface of Matrimony’s essence. Williams, a friend of T.S. Eliot and fellow-Inkling to C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, was a profound mystical thinker who kept returning to nuptial themes over the course of his career. The poem below comes from his first poetry collection, The Silver Stair (1912), a slim book I recently examined in the Bodleian. Enjoy.

Of Marriage and of its Priesthood

Charles Williams

Here shall no pagan foot nor claw of beast
Enter; nor wizard sorcery be seen.
But sometime here have all true lovers been,
Nor hath the tale of outland riders ceased.
With hands of consecration now the priest
Exalts the holy sacrament between
The altar lights. Now, if your souls be clean,
Draw near: Himself Love gives you in His feast.

Whose voice in solemn ritual lifted up
Praises the Name of Love? Whose hands have blest
For you, His votaries, the mysterious Cup,
And set before you the ordained Food?
Voice of Himself, to narrow vows professed,
And hands of His adorable maidenhood.