Star Wars and the Suppression of the Jesuits

January 31, 2020January 31, 2020 / Rick Yoder / Leave a comment

Recently a screenplay has surfaced of a discarded project from a major science fiction film studio. We believe that this film was part of a planned trilogy, with previous titles including the (now lost) The Phantom Heresy and Attack of the Convulsionnaires. Notes suggest that another six films, possibly set later in the series, include A New Pope, The First Empire Strikes Back, The Return of the Jesuit, The Faith Awakens, The Lourdes Jesuit, and The Rise of Newman. Here we present excerpts from the third and only surviving script from that series.

A long time ago in a Pontificate far, far away…

STAR CRUSADES: REVENGE OF THE JANSENISTS

War! The Kingdom is crumbling under attacks by the ruthless Jansenist Archbishop, Cornelis Steenoven. There are heroes on both sides. Concupiscence is everywhere.

In a stunning move, the fiendish Regalist leader, the Marquis of Pombal, has swept into the Kingdom’s capital and kidnapped Chancellor Le Paige, leader of the Parlement of Paris.

As the Schismatic Army attempts to flee the besieged capital with their valuable hostage, two Jesuits lead a desperate mission to rescue the captive Chancellor. . .

“I fear the Jesuits. The Company keeps pushing for more control. They’re shrouded in secrecy and obsessed with maintaining their autonomy . . . ideals. I find simply incomprehensible in the Gallican Church.”

GREGOIRE: The Jesuits are selfless . . . they only care about others.

LE PAIGE smiles.

LE PAIGE: Or so you’ve been trained to believe. Why is it, then, that they have asked you to do something you feel is wrong?

GREGOIRE: I’m not sure it’s wrong.

LE PAIGE: Have they asked you to betray the Jesuit rule? The Constitution? A friendship? Your own values? Think. Consider their motives. Keep your mind clear of casuistry. The fear of losing power is a weakness of both the Jesuits and the Jansenists.

GREGOIRE is deep in thought.

LE PAIGE: Did you ever hear the tragedy of Blaise Pascal, the Mathematical?

GREGOIRE: No.

LE PAIGE: I thought not. It’s not a story the Jesuits would tell you. It’s a Jansenist legend. Blaise Pascal was a solitaire of Port-Royal, so powerful and so wise he could use probability to create faith … He had such a knowledge of efficacious grace that he could even keep the ones he cared about from lachrymal fistulae.

GREGOIRE: He could actually save people from painful eye ailments?

LE PAIGE: Efficacious grace is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be supernatural.

GREGOIRE: What happened to him?

LE PAIGE: He became so ascetic . . . the only thing he was afraid of was ending his ascesis, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice forced him to sign the Formula on his deathbed. (smiles) Pascal never saw it coming. It’s ironic…he could save others from doubting, but not himself.

GREGOIRE: Is it possible to learn this power?

LE PAIGE: Not from a Jesuit.

“Oh yes. Superior General Ricci, the Negotiator. We’ve been waiting for you.”

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: It won’t be long before the armies of the Pope track us here. I am sending you to the Muratori system. It is a moderate planet which generates a great deal of rationalizing interference. You will be safe there.

CARDINAL NOAILLES: Safe? Chancellor Le Paige managed to escape your grip, Marquis, without Archbishop Steenoven. I have doubts about your ability to keep us free of enthusiasm.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Be thankful, Cardinal, you have not found yourself in my grip . . . Your ship is waiting.

LORENZO RICCI is deep in thought.

The JESUIT removes his cloak and jumps down behind the MARQUIS.

RICCI: Hello, there!

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Father Ricci, you are a bold one. I find your behavior bewildering . . . Surely you realize you’re doomed, (to mendicants) Expel him!

About a HUNDRED BATTLE MENDICANTS surround RICCI, MARQUIS OF POMBAL, and his BODYGUARDS. RICCI looks around, then walks right up to the MARQUIS OF POMBAL. They stare at each other for a moment.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Enough of this.

The BODYGUARDS raise their power crosiers to knock RICCI away, but RICCI ducks as the deadly crosiers whistle over his head. The Jesuit’s lightsaber ignites, and RICCI deftly cuts one BODYGUARD in two. His crosier flies into the air and is caught by the MARQUIS OF POMBAL. The other THREE BODYGUARDS attack RICCI with an intense fury. RICCI uses casuistic mind-tricks to release a piece of equipment from the ceiling. It drops on the BODYGUARDS, smashing them. RICCI walks toward the MARQUIS OF POMBAL, slashing the last BODYGUARD to pieces. BATTLE MENDICANTS move toward RICCI.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: Back away. I will deal with this Jesuit regicide myself.

RICCI: Your move.

MARQUIS OF POMBAL: You fool. I have been trained in your Jesuit arts by Archbishop Steenoven himself. Attack, Ricci!

“The Company will make up its own mind who is to be the King’s confessor, not the Ordinary.”

LE PAIGE: Monseigneur Le Tellier. I take it the Marquis of Pombal has been destroyed then. I must say, you’re here sooner than expected.

LE TELLIER: In the name of the Parlement of Paris, you are under arrest, Chancellor.

LE PAIGE: Are you threatening me, Monseigneur Jesuit?

LE TELLIER: The Parlement will decide your fate.

LE PAIGE: (burst of anger) I am the Parlement!

LE TELLIER: Not yet!

LE PAIGE: It’s regicide, then.

LE TELLIER: You are under arrest, My Lord.

After an intense fight, GREGOIRE enter the scene. LE TELLIER has cornered LE PAIGE and deprived him of his lightsaber.

LE PAIGE: Gregoire! I told you it would come to this. I was right. The Jesuits are taking over.

LE TELLIER: You old fool. The oppression of the Rigorists will never return. Your plot to regain control of the Kingdom is over . . . you have lost . . .

LE PAIGE: No! No! You will be suppressed!

LE PAIGE shoots convulsionnaire lightning from his fingers.

LE PAIGE: He is a heretic, Gregoire!

LE TELLIER: He’s the heretic. Stop him!

LE PAIGE: Come to your senses, boy. The Jesuits are in revolt. They will betray you, just as they betrayed me.

LE TELLIER: Aarrrrggghhhhh . . .

LE PAIGE: You are not one of them, Gregoire. Don’t let him kill me.

LE TELLIER: Aarrrrggghhhhh . . .

LE PAIGE: I have the power to save the Gallican Church. You must choose. You must stop him!

LE TELLIER: Don’t listen to him, Gregoire.

LE PAIGE: Help me! Don’t let him kill me. I can’t hold on any longer. Ahhhhhhh . . . ahhhhhhh . . . ahhhhhhh . . . I can’t … I give up. Help me. I am weak … I am too weak. Don’t kill me. I give up. I’m dying. I can’t hold on any longer.

LE TELLIER: I am going to end this once and for all.

GREGOIRE: You can’t kill him, Master. He must stand trial.

LE TELLIER: He has control of the Parlement and the Court. He is too dangerous to be kept alive.

LE PAIGE: I’m too weak. Don’t kill me. Please.

GREGOIRE: It is not the Jesuit way . . . He must live . . .

LE PAIGE: Please don’t, please don’t . . .

GREGOIRE: I need him . . .

LE PAIGE: Please don’t . . .

GREGOIRE: NO!!!

Just as LE TELLIER is about to excommunicate LE PAIGE, GREGOIRE steps in and cuts off the Jesuit’s hand holding the lightsaber.

As LE TELLIER stares at GREGOIRE in shock, LE PAIGE springs to life.

LE PAIGE: Grace! Unlimited efficacious grace!

The full force of LE PAIGE’S powerful convulsionnaire lightning blasts LE TELLIER. He attempts to deflect them with his one good hand, but the force is too great. He convulses out the window and falls twenty stories to his death, though he is miraculously cured of an eye disorder on the way. No more screams. No more moans.

“The attempt on my divine rights as a bishop have left me scarred…and deformed.”

GREGOIRE: I pledge myself to your teachings. To the ways of St. Augustine.

LE PAIGE: Good. Good. Grace is strong with you. A powerful Jansenist you will become. Henceforth, you shall be known as Darth… Blois.

GREGOIRE: Thank you, Monseigneur.

LE PAIGE: Arise, Bishop.

LE PAIGE is putting on his dark cloak: he is now fully DARTH FEBRONIUS.

LE PAIGE: Because the Company did not trust you, my young apprentice, I believe you are the only Jesuit with no knowledge of this plot. When the Jesuits learn what has transpired here, they will kill us, along with the King.

GREGOIRE: I agree. The Jesuits’ next move will be against the Throne.

LE PAIGE: Every single Jesuit is now an enemy of the Kingdom. You understand that, don’t you?

GREGOIRE: I understand, Monseigneur.

LE PAIGE: We must move quickly. The Jesuits are relentless; if they are not all suppressed, it will be civil war without end. First, I want you to go to the Lycée Louis-le-Grand. We will catch them off balance. Do what must be done, Lord Blois. Do not hesitate. Show no mercy. Only then will you be strong enough with the reasonable side of the faith to save the Gallican Church.

GREGOIRE: What about the other Jesuits spread across Christendom?

LE PAIGE: Their betrayal will be dealt with. After you have suppressed all the Jesuits in the Lycée, go to the Muratori system. Wipe out Cardinal Noailles and the other Third Party leaders. Once more, the Jansenists will rule the Church, and we shall have the Peace of Clement IX.

“The Appeal is over. Lord Febronius promised us the Peace of the Church…we only want … nooooo…”

LE PAIGE: Emperor Joseph, the time has come. Execute Dominus Ac Redemptor.

JOSEPH II: It will be done, my lord.

“Faith in your new apprentice, misplaced may be, as is your faith in the rigorist interpretation of the Moral Law.”

ST ALPHONSUS: I hear a new apprentice, you have, Cardinal. Or should I call you Darth Febronius?

DARTH FEBRONIUS: Monseigneur Liguori, you survived.

ST ALPHONSUS: Surprised?

DARTH FEBRONIUS: Your laxism blinds you, Monseigneur Liguori. Now you will experience the full power of tutiorism!

They fight.

DARTH FEBRONIUS: I have waited a long time for this moment, my little Neapolitan friend. At last, the Jesuits are no more.

ST. ALPHONSUS: Not if anything I have to say about it, Lord Febronius.

ST. ALPHONSUS uses Baroque Marian devotionalism to throw DARTH FEBRONIUS back, knocking him clear over his desk and onto the floor in a heap.

ST. ALPHONSUS: (continuing) At an end your rule is and not merciful enough it was, I must say.

“From my point of view, the Jesuits are evil!”

MEDICAL MENDICANT: My Lord, the Constitution is finished …

DARTH FEBRONIUS: Good. Good.

The MENDICANT moves back to the table where DARTH BLOIS lies. The table begins to move upright. DARTH FEBRONIUS moves in next to DARTH BLOIS.

DARTH FEBRONIUS: (continuing) Lord Blois, can you hear me?

DARTH BLOIS, with his dark mask and helmet, moves up into the frame until he is in a CLOSEUP.

DARTH BLOIS: Yes, Monseigneur.

DARTH BLOIS looks around the room.

DARTH BLOIS: (continuing) Where is the Gallican Church? Is it safe, is it all right?

DARTH FEBRONIUS moves closer to the half droid/half man.

DARTH FEBRONIUS: I’m afraid it died … it seems in the Terror, you killed it.

A LOW GROAN emanates from BLOIS’s mask. Suddenly everything in the room begins to implode, including some of the MENDICANTS.

DARTH BLOIS: I couldn’t have! It was alive! I felt it! It was alive! It’s impossible! No!!!

30 Alternate Religious Mottos

June 14, 2019June 15, 2019 / Rick Yoder / 2 Comments

As my readers will no doubt be aware, most religious orders have a motto that encapsulates their particular charism. However, many of these are a bit tired and could use with some updating. Here are my proposals:

Benedictines: Prayer, Work, Monk-eying Around
Jesuits: Up to Something
Dominicans: Sed Contra
Franciscans: Need a Bath
Lazarists: Nolite Me Tangere o Pauperes
Carthusians: ——-
Carmelites: Better Than You
Oratorians: O Happy Flowers!
Trappists: Beer, Cheese, Keeping Death Daily Before One’s Eyes
Cistercians: Trappists But With Fewer Skills
Opus Dei: Definitely Not a Cult
Augustinians: Peaked in 1517
Norbertines: We Have White Birettas
Redemptorists: Sowing Scrupulosity, Reaping Laxity
Missionaries of Charity: Not Just a Gap Year
Passionists: Dying in a Train Station
Marists: Not the Marianists
Legion of Christ: [REDACTED]
Congregation of Holy Cross: Go Irish!
Theatines: We Still Exist
LCWR: Anything Goes!
Salesians: Something for the Boys
Basilian Monks: είμαστε ακόμα εδώ
Camaldolese: Get Off My Lawn!
ICKSP: All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go
Marianists: Not the Marists
Holy Spirit Adoration Sisters: Pretty in Pink
Heralds of the Gospel: Blasphemous Simpsons Episode Offends the Blessed Mother!
Anglican Ordinariate: He Hath Vouchſafèd Unto Us These His Comfortable Words
Secular Priests: Singalong Fun with Christopher West!

Patreon: Final Chapter of “The Baptism of the Archduke”

May 30, 2019 / Rick Yoder / Leave a comment

I have just uploaded the third and final Chapter II of my short story, “The Baptism of the Archduke,” over at my Patreon. This rococo satire involves a formidable if exasperated Duchess and her plot to marry off one of her daughters at the occasion of a family baptism – in spite of some very strange obstacles.

Patron Saints of the blog can read all three parts of this humorous story. You, too, can become a Patron Saint today by pledging $10 a month, which will grant you exclusive creative content not available on my blog. Please consider joining today!

Proceedings of the 27th Annual Conference for Wonka Studies

April 5, 2019April 7, 2019 / Rick Yoder / Leave a comment

Editor’s Introduction

When the definitive cultural history of our late capitalist political moment is written, much will be said about the seminal influence of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. This 1971 film, emerging in the context of the Nixon administration, the War in Vietnam, and an ongoing reassessment of America’s place in the social, political, and ecological world, is still as fresh and potent as the first day it opened in theaters. Taken collectively with its originating text by Roald Dahl and subsequent re-make by Tim Burton, the Wonka Cycle constitutes one of the fundamental cinematic expressions of postmodern anxiety and self-reflexivity. Can it be any surprise that this complex contemporary fable has spawned a burgeoning field of scholarship?

While none of this will surprise Wonka specialists who seek out this volume, the lay reader may be surprised to know the extent to which Wonka as a text has risen to its prominent status in such a short time. For the benefit of such a reader, I will provide a brief literature review of the field.

Wonka Studies was initiated in 1987 with the publication of Jonathan Mortman’s “Oompa-Loompas of the World Unite: A Marxist Reading of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” (Forth 03, Fall 1987). Much has transpired since Mortman’s widely-acclaimed essay; the field has since evolved into an important sub-discipline of cultural and critical studies. The convening of the first Conference for Wonka Studies at Blippensbild College in 1992 disseminated various advances in Wonka scholarship made in the wake of Mortman’s intervention. Yet it was not until the following year that we start to see the first Wonka Studies seminars open on a test-case basis in various major research universities.

Scholars are divided as to the true political position of the Wonka Cycle. Heidi Zolker and Brian Stafford-Jones famously argued in their 1994 missive, “Oompa-Loompa Rights are Human Rights” (Force 17, Spring 1994) that the musical sequences of the film contain a carnivalesque critique of capitalist labor relations. This view would have become the established orthodoxy had not Leopold Öngg published his magisterial “Of Wonka and Wankers: The Golden Ticket as Phallocentric Signifier of Biopower” (Oberflächlichenstudien 03, Summer 1996). Drawing upon the insights of Foucault and Derrida, Öngg argued that the incentive-structure inscribed into the plot of Willy Wonka took an inherently apologetic stance towards the forces of patriarchal capital. Without denying the subversive elements identified by Zolker and Stafford-Jones, Öngg suggested that the anti-capitalist performances were akin to the economic logic of early National Socialism. “Wonka is a Strasserite. Behind and, indeed, beneath the Chocolate Factory, lurks the gas chamber,” wrote Öngg in a memorable and much-quoted phrase.

This central question – whether Wonka is a communist or a fascist – occupied much of the debate throughout the nineties. The important interventions by Julia Linley (Forts 16, Summer 1997), Oswald Glover (Forks 28, Fall 1998) and Eric Breedlove (Folks 30, Winter 1999) all respond to this controversy in some way.

Yet starting in 2002 with the rediscovery of early middle French theory, Wonka scholars began to move away into more reflexive and less strictly partisan approaches to the material. At the same time, more attention was given to the gender and class dynamics outside the Factory itself. Ernest Grenouille’s “We Are All Grandpa Joe” (Färt48, Spring 2003) was an important model of this “Humanizing” Turn. The wider socio-political, cultural, and economic troubles of the new millennium also found their place in the new scholarship. The significant upshoot of articles about Slugworth in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis (Karawasi 2009; Davison 2009; LeBocq 2010) are just one example among many.

Recent work has been equally attuned to our political moment. That much was clear to all the attendees and presenters at the 27th Annual Conference for Wonka Studies, which convened at South Mercury University and Ladies’ Seminary from 6-9 February, 2019. The essays included in this collection form the core of a radically self-conscious response to our era. For instance, Hilda Davis-Davies argues in her powerful intervention, “The Queering of Violet Beauregard,” that that character undergoes what is actually a transfiguration into a radically non-heteronormative and (more importantly?) non-speciesist physicality. Violet Beauregard thus becomes a model of praxis, and not without a certain jouissance. Jean-Claude LaMerde brings a psychoanalytic lens to the famous Augustus Gloop scene in his “Gloop/Narcissus: A Neo-Lacanian Reading.” LaMerde dares to ask, “Is the chocolate river in fact an objet a?” Fistula Pepper responds to the broader need to make Wonka Studies more interdisciplinary with her Film studies essay, “From Wonka to Cremaster: Interrogations of Late Capitalism in Cyclic Film.” Her comparison of these two masterpieces opens new cultural insights.

Yet all of the twenty-one essays published here break new ground. The future of Wonka Studies as a discipline is bright as a Golden Ticket.

Vincent Hingendingus,
State University of Marshwater

I. There is Nothing Outside the Factory: Derrida’s Of Grammatology and the Factory as Spatial Arbiter of Semantic Meaning in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Nils Ländstroop

II. “I’ve Got Another Puzzle for You” : Strategies of Negotiated Subalternity and the Representation of the Racial Other in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Leonora Hedley-Hadley

III. Does Charlie Bucket Punch Down?

Fergus Fripp

IV. “I Want It Now!” : Veruca Salt as Model of Radical Feminist Praxis

Joanna Cornwallis

V. “If You Are Wise You’ll Listen to Me” : Critical Re/Readings of Spivak’s “Can the Subaltern Speak?” in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Brutus Catflap

VI. The Chocolatier’s Two Bodies

Stephen Piker

VII. To Win is to Suffer: The Final Confrontation in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory as Turnerian Rite of Passage

The Rev. Dr. Aldo von Krefeld-Lipniz

VIII. The Queering of Violet Beauregard

Hilda Davis-Davies

IX. Gloop/Narcissus: A Neo-Lacanian Reading

Jean-Claude LaMerde

X. “Is the Hurricane A-Blowing?”: The Willy Wonka Boat Ride as Bourgeois Representation of 1960’s Radicalism

Alfonse Catelli

XI. Eco-Geographies of Consumption in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Sharon Oldbeck

XII. “Pure Imagination” and the Impure Imaginary of Late Capitalism

Cynthia Abschreiber

XIII. A Thousand Candied Plateaus: Latent Rhizomatic Constructions of Subjectivity in the Wonka Cycle

Pokey O’Clanahan

XIV. Post-Oedipal Constructions of Parenthood in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Karl Eimer

XV. “The Candy Man Can” : Gender and Linguistic Power in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Butch McCracken

XVI. The Factory as Simulacrum: Landscape, Consumption, and Constellations of Subjectivity in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

Cvetko Dmikoviç

XVII. Wonkavision and the Ship of Theseus

Angus Leroy Huntingdon III

XVIII. From Wonka to Cremaster: Interrogations of Late Capitalism in Cyclic Film

Fistula Pepper

XIX. Spectacles of Sweetness: Touring the Chocolate Factory with Guy Debord

Plum Darndot

XX. A Journal of Courage: A History of Wonkastudien

Wolf Vielfraß

XXI. Decolonizing Wonka Studies

Becky Carrington Hughes

These Princess-Abbesses Have Just About Had It

March 5, 2019 / Rick Yoder / 1 Comment

“What a shock, Maximiliana has to be the life of the party AGAIN.”

“I think the real trouble in the Church today is the shortage of lace.”

Princess-Abbess Christina zu Mecklenburg isn’t angry. She’s just disappointed.

“I’m not like a regular Princess-Abbess, I’m a cool Princess-Abbess. Observe my nude statues, dogs, and trendy collection of seashells.”

Winged headdresses are in this year.

“This crosier was made by fifty leper goldsmiths on a Greek island owned by the Doge of Venice. My uncle, the Cardinal of Trieste and Titular Abbot of Unter-Festschrift, gave it to me at my accession.”

Therese Natalie of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, Princess-Abbess of Gandersheim, with her pendulous string of pearls, miniature portrait bracelet, powdered blue watered silk sash, ermine, and bejewelled Bible, is a model of noble simplicity.

“Well, grey is a penitential color, after all. More than what you’re wearing, heathen.”

“They told me it was the crown or the hair. I chose the hair.”

The face when you realize that someone has spilled ketchup and mustard everywhere.

Marie Elisabeth von Holstein-Gottorf, Princess-Abbess of Quedlinburg, knows what you did. And she is not amused.

“What cloister is ever complete without tropical plants?”

How sweet when sisters live in (rococo) harmony…

…as opposed to Gothic mutual loathing.

(Sources: Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here, Here)

100 Edifying Lenten Penances

March 4, 2019 / Rick Yoder / 12 Comments

“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.

Give up meat
Give up chocolate
Give up alcohol
Give up social media
Give up being a social media influencer
Give up films
Give up naughty films
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
Give up comic books
Give up music
Give up secular music
Give up Christian praise and worship music (for the love of God and all that is holy)
Give up lobster, though not on Fridays
Give up dairy
Give up various soft cheeses
Give up all cheeses from Poitou-Charente but not anywhere else in France
Give up Netflix
Give up “Netflix”
Give up petting zoos
Give up marsupials
Give up giraffes of any kind
Give up your ignorance of the various kinds of giraffe
Give up spy novels
Give up surprising all of your friends by suddenly screaming at them, apropos of nothing, “No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die!”
Give up your longstanding telenovela addiction
Give up trying to learn Portuguese in favor of Esperanto
Give up learning Esperanto
Give up reading the poetry of William McGonagall, the Apollo of Dundee
Give up the various birds, stuffed and otherwise, that you are hoarding in your attic and basement
Give up your deeply-rooted habit of eating little fragments of ceramic statues
Give up your swimming lessons
Give up your avoidance of Luton, Slough, and Swindon
Give up the American news cycle
Give up the Busby Berkeley marathons you play in your living room every Friday evening
Give up pretending you are, in fact, the reincarnation of Senhor Doutor Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
Give up whining
Give up long walks in the park
Give up spitting in public
Give up gossip
Give up gossip about me, please
Give up your general wanton demeanor and frowsy mien
Give up the chips
Give up all professional sports
Give up your various simultaneous affairs with the members of the Swazi National Curling Team
Give up the ghost
Give up your collection of Rococo snuff boxes depicting various prince-bishops in ermine
Give up practicing the kazoo at inappropriate hours of the night
Give up Morris dancing
Give up peanut butter and eel jelly sandwiches
Give up your place in line
Give up the furious Mah-Jong tournaments you regularly host for gangs of aged nuns
Give up reciting the poetry of William McGonagall, Bard of Dundee
Give up your participation in the capitalist system enslaving us all
Give up toast
Give up the secret alien knowledge you acquired through highly illegal methods of infiltrating government files
Give up felonies in general
Give up all the Skittles you have hoarded in your closet
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
Give up on modern architecture in toto
Give up writing emoji haikus
Give up your shoegaze band, Emoji Haiku
Give up on romance
Give up on romantic comedies
Give up those trashy bodice-rippers they sell in the supermarket book aisle (you know the ones)
Give up your seat in the Académie française
Give up your seat on the train to Timbuktu
Give up your seat on the Parish Council (here’s looking at you, Susan)
Give up your operatic emotional troubles
Give up addressing everyone in song
Give up asserting that you are, in fact, Madama Butterfly
Give up counting time in anything but the Mayan calendar
Give up your general estrangement from Mesoamerican culture
Give up your allergies
Give up your obstinate refusal to learn the Sasquatch language
Give up your unreliable narration
Give up your postmodern metairony
Give up your Twitter account
Give up treating your dogs like children
Give up treating your children like dogs
Give up treating your children better than your cats
Give up your claim to the long-defunct throne of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
Give up your alarming habit of musical flatulence
Give up your covert addiction to locomotive erotica
Give up your understated unibrow
Give up your long-awaited nose job
Give up your embittered attempt to remain Dean of a prominent English Cathedral
Give up memorizing the poetry of William McGonagall, the Orpheus of Dundee
Give up any expectations of amusement
Give up the pipe dream of tenure
Give up your position to the various paramilitary forces that are hunting you through the tundra
Give up break-dancing in public parks
Give up attending Hare Krishna services
Give up any association with the Libertarian Party
Give up all hope, ye who enter here.
Give up the secret recipe
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
Give up approximately 1/4 of your bone marrow
Give up being lame
Give up all the excuses you always make for not keeping your Lenten penance
Just give up

Spring According to Pre-Raphaelites

April 21, 2018 / Rick Yoder / Leave a comment

Spring is here, and the Pre-Raphaelites are going to tell you how to celebrate.

If you’re not just lying about languidly in a meadow, you’re not really doing it right, are you?

It is also acceptable to lie there with an audience, preferably one enjoying a lovely picnic. And everyone must be the same gender and should, if at all possible, be dressed in very uncomfortable clothing.

After you have wallowed in the flowers, be sure to pick some and stare vacantly into the middle distance.

And of course, you should be arrayed in an artfully disheveled white dress. To get that shabby chic look, you know?

How you dishevel it is up to you.

Never let a gust of wind pass without posing.

When it comes to flower-staffs, the bigger, the better.

Only travel with an entourage of little people, so as better to accent your royal mien and bearing.

Choir boys will also do.

Spring is a lovely time for a refreshing dip.

You know you’re having a good Spring day when, so enraptured by the little blossoms you’re holding, you don’t even notice your long green scarf blowing away.

If you happen to find half-naked classical youths asleep in a garden, surrounded by putti and doves, and stuck in an extraordinarily improbable pose, don’t worry. This is normal in Spring.

Likewise, wild nuns emerge from hibernation and range freely again in the Spring.

While it’s important to enjoy the season, it’s even more important not to get too caught up in it. This time of the year is when people are most at risk of being sealed into trees by nymphs.

But surely the best thing about Spring is that it’s no longer Winter!

(Images from here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here)

A Ghastly Hymn for Good Shepherd Sunday

April 21, 2018 / Rick Yoder / Leave a comment

A cope depicting the Good Shepherd. (Source)

I realize that technically last week was Good Shepherd Sunday in the traditional calendar, but as most of the Catholic world (alas) celebrates it tomorrow, I thought I’d offer up this truly dismal hymn from Fr. Faber. I have never yet heard it set to music, so if any of my readers happen to know of a recording, I would appreciate them kindly sharing it. Fr. Faber is one of my favorite spiritual writers and hymnodists…even when he’s outlandishly bad.

The True Shepherd

Fr. Frederick William Faber

I was wandering and weary
When my Saviour came unto me;
For the ways of sin grew dreary
And the world had ceased to woo me:
And I thought I heard Him say,
As He came along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

At first I would not hearken,
And put off till the morrow;
But life began to darken,
And I was sick with sorrow;
And I thought I heard Him say,
As He came along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

At last I stopped to listen,
His voice could not deceive me;
I saw His kind eyes glisten,
So anxious to relieve me:
And I thought I heard Him say,
As He came along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

He took me on His shoulder,
And tenderly He kissed me;
He bade my love be bolder,
And said how He had missed me;
And I’m sure I heard Him say,
As He went along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

Strange gladness seemed to move Him,
Whenever I did better;
And he coaxed me so to love Him,
As if He was my debtor;
And I always heard Him say,
As He went along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

I thought His love would weaken,
As more and more He knew me;
But it burneth like a beacon;
And its light and heat go through me;
And I ever hear Him say,
As He goes along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

Let us do then, dearest brothers!
What will best and longest please us,
Follow not the ways of others,
But trust ourselves to Jesus;
We shall ever hear Him say,
As He goes along His way,
O silly souls! come near Me;
My sheep should never fear Me;
I am the Shepherd true.

Elsewhere: A Lackluster Profile of St. Philip

March 27, 2018March 30, 2018 / Rick Yoder / 1 Comment

I’m always pleased to find articles about St. Philip Neri in the Catholic press. Unfortunately, some are less helpful than others. I was disappointed with Shaun McAfee’s recent article in the National Catholic Register, “St. Philip Neri Was a Humorist, But Not a Comedian.” The style is tortured and riddled with typos, and the content leaves much to be desired. Key episodes from the life of St. Philip are either misunderstood or handled clumsily.

Case in point—when the young Pippo Buono infamously pushed his sister, he was not plotting a premeditated revenge against some grievance. He was reacting somewhat thoughtlessly to her childish interruption of the prayers he and his other sister were saying. Mr. McAfee casts the episode in a much darker light than any of St. Philip’s biographers.

More egregiously, Mr. McAfee throws together all kinds of unrelated phenomena as evidence of St. Philip’s penchant for holy humour. Here he is:

Yes, Neri was known to show up to important events with half his beard shaved, give incorrect walking directions to his disciples, read a book of jokes, or pause for more than 10 minutes in the middle of the consecration at Mass. When he did each of these things he caused a mix of emotions in others, but it always ended up producing the same end state: increased humility, and increased patience.

Two problems present themselves. First, we can see Mr. McAfee’s unusual, jarring use of “Neri” to refer to St. Philip. This shorthand is unheard of in the literature on St. Philip, and its impersonal, journalistic tone sits uneasily with a saint of such singular personality. Secondly, not all of these actions were done for the same reason. Nor were they all jokes! St. Philip didn’t pause at the consecration to elicit edified chuckles. He did so because he was rapt in an ecstasy and couldn’t help himself plummeting into deepest adoration before the Eucharistic God. And it wasn’t just ten minutes—it was usually over an hour, sometimes up to two. Even Mr. McAfee’s details are wrong.

Still, I suppose I ought not complain too much. Mr. McAfee does draw mostly the right lessons from St. Philip’s humour. One wishes, however, that he done so with greater artfulness and more care for the nuances of his subject.

God is Real, Not Nice

January 27, 2018 / Rick Yoder / Leave a comment

Moses-and-the-Ten-Commandments-GettyImages-171418029-5858376a3df78ce2c3b8f56d.jpg

Colorized detail of Moses Breaking the Tables of the Law, by Gustave Dore. (Source)

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, the spiritual father of Modern Orthodox Judaism, launched his movement in the nineteenth century with an assault on the Frankfurt Reformers entitled “Religion Allied to Progress.” Hirsch decries the new forms of liberal, secular religion he saw animating the well-to-do populations of Jews in Germany.

“But behold! The prophet of the new message came into their midst with the cry of ‘religion allied to progress’; he filled the blank, pacified their conscience and wiped out their shame. With this magic word he turned irreligion into Godliness, apostasy into priesthood, sin into merit, frivolity into virtue, weakness into strength, thoughtlessness into profundity. By this one magic phrase he distilled the ancient world-ranging spirit of the Torah into a single aromatic drop of perfume so fragrant that in the most elegant party dress they could carry it round with them in their waistcoat pockets without being ashamed. By means of it, he carved out of the ponderous old rock-hewn Tablets of the Law ornamental figures so tiny that people gladly found room for them on smart dressing tables, in drawing-rooms and ballrooms. By means of this one magic phrase he so skilfully loosened the rigid bonds of the old law with its 613 locks and chains that the Divine Word which until then had inflexibly prohibited many a desire and demanded many a sacrifice, henceforth became the heavenly manna which merely reflected everybody’s own desires, echoed their own thoughts, sanctified their own aspirations and said to each one: ‘Be what you are, enjoy what you fancy, aspire to what you will, whatever you may be you are always religious, whatever you may do–all is religion; continue to progress, for the more you progress the further you move from the ancient way, and the more you cast off old Jewish customs the more religious and acceptable to God will you be….'”

These prophetic words came to mind as I was reading Dr. Ulrich Lehner’s excellent new offering, God Is Not Nice (2017). Published by Ave Maria Press, the book is a cannon-blast through America’s spiritual miasma. His target? The false image of God as a nice guy. I’m afraid that, as the book shows, He isn’t very “nice” at all. He’s so much better than that.

Each chapter considers one of God’s attributes as revealed in the Scriptures, the Magisterium, and Church History. How wonderful to come across a work of theology that is—brace yourself—actually about God! Gone are the boring and programmatic encumberments that so often clog up the pages of the theological press. Lehner is centrally concerned with God’s character, and only secondarily with what that must mean to us, His creations.

Lehner drinks deeply of the Scriptures. He often returns to Old Testament narratives of encounter with a God who surpasses every expectation. (Source)

It is also one of the most erudite pieces of popular religious writing I have ever read. Sprinkled in among the obligatory references to the Inklings are much heavier hitters. One finds ideas drawn from Martin Buber, Gabriel Marcel, John Crowe Ransom, Rodney Stark, Robert Spaemann, Dietrich von Hildebrand, and many more. Lehner’s prodigious knowledge of philosophy was especially apparent, as he deftly maneuvered between classical Thomism and recent German thought—not exactly the fare one expects from a major Church Historian. God Is Not Nice also has the distinction of being the only book of popular devotion I’ve encountered that speaks favorably of Erich Fromm (and cribs some of his ideas). It is to Lehner’s credit as a teacher that the reader never feels as if he’s suddenly entered rare air. He presents some difficult concepts with a simplicity that never sacrifices substance. An eighth grader could read and, more importantly, understand the text. So could an Evangelical. The book never ceases to be Catholic, but one is hard-pressed to find many insights that are so uniquely Papist as to dissuade Protestant readers. Its broad appeal comes not from a watering down of the Faith’s distinctives, but a consistent penetration of those things which lie at the very heart of the Christian life.

The book is also imbued with a deep humanity. First, Lehner’s understated humor crops up now and again, such as the time he casually compares the Prosperity Gospel preachers to Nazis (62). Or when, at the start of a chapter on intimacy with God, he writes, “Nakedness in public is a clear no-no” (80). It is difficult to imagine Lehner writing that line with a straight face, and impossible to read it with one.

The humanity of the text lies in its content as well as its style. Although Lehner hardly ever proposes specific ideas for spiritual renewal, the call to conversion is constant, simple, and universal enough that it all feels eminently practical. It works in large part because Lehner never invests his project with the unwieldy freight of, say, the hopes and failures of socially conservative American Christianity. This book is not The Benedict Option. Sure enough, Lehner is critical; for example, I was surprised to see such a forthright condemnation of the Enlightenment from an author who has made it is his life’s study. But Lehner never carries his criticism into the unpleasant realm of polemic, as Dreher so often does in his own book. What matters to Lehner is the individual human soul, not the social conditions under which the Church must forge her way through history. He is realistic about the quotidian quality of our spiritual lives. Everything must come back to the individual’s relationship with God, a relationship largely shaped by the perfectly ordinary moments of our day. The book never leaves this vision.

That isn’t to say that Lehner advocates a purely individualistic spirituality, like some eighteenth-century revivalist, red in the face, handkerchief flailing. I was struck many times by the familial note in Lehner’s work. Instead of shying away from appearing in his own work—the hallmark of a bloodless academic—Lehner grounds his spiritual call to arms in his own life. Lots of the book’s wisdom is drawn from its author’s experience of parenting. We read, in a chapter on God and suffering:

In fact, many of our children learn from the first hour of Sunday school that God wants everybody to be happy. Some parents might object that a different image of God would terrify children. I don’t think so – and I am speaking with the experience of parenting five kids. (100)

Or elsewhere, in a discussion of the Redemption:

A nice god might pardon us without care for our repentance, but so would a terrible parent who is not interested in us becoming mature and responsible persons. (118)

Or this charming anecdote, while pondering human freedom and what we really mean when we say that the Lord is “a God of Surprises”:

Of course, God is omniscient regarding all our actions and thoughts, but he leaves us our freedom and seems to choose to be surprised. I cannot help but compare this to my own parenting. When my younger children prepare a surprise present for my birthday, I usually find traces in the kitchen and the living room: crayons, pieces of paper, glue sticks, and first drafts with ‘Happy Birthday’ on them. Nevertheless, I choose to be surprised when they hand me their work of art. I think that with an omniscient God, it must be somehow like this. (126)

It thus didn’t come as too great a surprise when, at the end of his text, Lehner turned to a brief yet powerful meditation on St. Joseph. In some sense, St. Joseph is the paragon of all that Lehner advocates. He dwelt with God day to day in an intimacy unclouded by the various pretty illusions to which we all fall prey. Instead, St. Joseph drew the strength he needed from a true knowledge of God’s character. That knowledge created a great love and humble awe in him. For us, as for the Frankfurt Jews of Hirsh’s day, God is little more than a plaything or bric-a-brac, “relegated to a mantelpiece long ago and…only taken down on Sundays.” (106).

It was not so with St. Joseph. He knew the awful and living God as a human being, as one beloved. But for St. Joseph, that God wasn’t “nice.” After reading Lehner’s book, we too may be lucky enough to know that God’s not nice. He’s real.

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