I did not watch...

...the royal wedding on television yesterday but heard much of it on the wireless as I hurtled along the M62. Two things struck me. The first was that the choice of "I was glad" in Parry's setting for the entry of the bride was excellent. The second was the realisation that the chap who read from St Paul's Letter to the Romans seemed to have very little idea as to the meaning of the text he had been given or of how to articulate it. Now. Who says the Anglicans always do these things well?

It's Party Time!

Just having a few friends round!

Easter Sunday

A happy Easter to you all!

Good Friday

http://youtu.be/9dOaqngXMWk

Couldn't believe my eyes

I did not see either the Queen Mother or Elvis on Sunday. I was joking. It begins to appear that my imagined sighting of James Macmillan was due to something more than an overactive imagination because, as I learned this morning, he was due to conduct his St John Passion at the Philharmonic this evening. So either I did see him or something very spooky happened! "The greatest living Scottish Catholic composer!", my son remarked. "Quite possibly the greatest living Scottish composer," I replied,. "Ever!" I added, realising that I knew of no other composer from Scotland.
Now I just hope that my stare was not too obvious!

An Ordinary Palm Sunday? Perhaps not!

To the Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King in Liverpool in fulfilment of a long-standing Holy Week custom went I this morning. One reason- and perhaps the main reason I have kept up this habit- is quite simply that I like to hear the Passion sung. In fact they do it rather well in Liverpool - although, sadly, that is not the clergy but three cantors from the choir. In the past I recall a couple of cantors assisting a priest who sang the part of Christ. Now, alas, the clergy appear totally incapable. Why this should be so I know not. I am simply happy to hear it sung. To paraphrase the old Heinneken advert- the sung gospel reaches the parts simple speech cannot reach.
On my journey there I had other sad thoughts like "How sad it is that the scousers have all become protestants!" And "how irritating that several members of the choir wear academic hoods! It makes them look like Anglicans. How embarassing for them!"
It is true. Several of the gentlemen of the choir wear academic hoods over their cassocks and surplices. Doubtless they are very proud of having gained degrees from presigious universities but is God's house the place to trumpet such things? Or are they used in order to advise the tone deaf hearer that the wearer has demonstrated the ability to sing to graduate level and if you don't appreciate it then it is your failing? To me however, as a rabid papist, it just looks appallingly Anglican.
Did I mention that I was a rabid papist?
So there I was, having parked my car underneath the cathedral, when I noticed a priest putting money into the pay and display machine. I didn't think that one was expected to pay when attending a service and I wondered if I should point this out to him. Then a little demon - I think- said, "Keep quiet! They may have changed the rules so that you have to pay now- besides, he's finished paying now- at least this way you can plead ignorance". Then I came to my senses: what was a real priest doing paying to park at the cathedral? All this in a split second.
Now, ladies, please avert your eyes!
Having, susequently, emerged from the gents I waited for other members of the family to rejoin me whereupon the afforesaid priest asked me for some directions which, despite being a visitor myself I was able to give. Now giving directions to lost souls seems to be part of my vocation since where I live in the countryside is a veritable (non-mohammedan) Mecca for travellers who have gone astray! Thirty miles or so from home and I was still being useful: Deo Gratias!

The priest had looked strangely familiar and all of a sudden it occurred to me that this had been none other than Monsignor Keith Newton, the Ordinary of the Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham. Had I not seen the glint of a gold chain that doubtless held a pectoral cross under his jacket? "No oo! You're imagining things." I told myself.

The Mass was celebrated by Bishop Vincent Malone who, in his opening address before the blessing of the palms, welcomed as concelebrant none other than Monsignior Newton!
Now, if only I'd met him years before, I could have said "The Catholic Church IS the true Church you must join it!" Today all I could manage was "Down that corridor, on the right, Father"!

I am afraid it quite went to my head! After mass I was to be heard saying, "Don't look now, but that chap behind you on the mobile phone looks awfully like the famous composer James Macmillan. It couldn't possibly be him, though."
Or might it?

The Queen Mother?

Elvis?...

Palm Sunday

To veil or not?

"And we,with our unveiled faces reflecting like mirrors the brightness of the Lord, all grow brighter and brighter as we are turned into the image we reflect..." (2Corinthians3.18)

A Cheeky Chappie!

Just today I came across a postcard I wrote to my father from France in 2001. It contains an interesting liturgical comment.
"We were at mass in the basilica in Lourdes where a priest from Morcambe in Lancashire accompanied the hymns with a banjo- a bit like George Formby, I thought."
I had quite forgotten the experience but have not been moved to return to Lourdes since.
I fail to conceive how anyone could possibly consider that kind of musical accompaniment appropriate at Mass.

White wash

On this day, which in the year of my birth was the fifth Sunday in Lent- or, as it was known then, Passion Sunday, I was baptised. I was exactly three weeks old. I gather, since I have no personal recollection, that it was all pretty straightforward. And so it was for my own children- since when, it appears, things have changed and parents wishing to have their children baptised are required to undergo some course of instruction. As I remarked to my good lady today- if we were, by some miracle, to have another child then I am quite sure I could not be bothered with all that nonsense but would do the job myself. Called to account I should say: "Danger of death"- my own- given the way these courses appear to be drawn out.
I did experience some of the parish courses when the children were being prepared for First Holy Communion and for Confirmation. It was tedious beyond words. In one a good and holy nun spent a long time asking rhetorically and to little purpose that I can remember what we had felt when our child was born. In another a well-intentioned layman got rather mixed up on the subject of which of the sacraments conferred a character upon the soul and told us that on that account one could only receive one's First Communion once. My American cousin, who had seven children, agreed with me on the pointlessness of these courses. She had managed to get herself excused after her fourth had been confirmed.
It is difficult to account for this enthusiasm for giving courses. Even people getting married are required to attend preparation courses. I wonder if anyone attending such a course was helped to a mind-blowing insight. "Wow! So that's what marriage is! I don't think I want to go ahead with that!" Of course the advantage of teaching people things they already know is that one's success or otherwise as a teacher cannot be assessed. It is rather like painting a white wall ...white! Once the paint has dried it scarcely matters whether or not you have covered all of it. Or like washing. As we learn in the Gospel, the "one who has taken a bath has no need of washing. He is already clean all over."