Commination or Denouncing of God's Anger and Judgments From the Book of Common Prayer.

We once did this, when I was an Anglican teenager, at a village church in Devon.

I wonder if it was such a bad idea (mutatis mutandis, of course).

A Commination, or Denouncing of God's Anger and Judgements against Sinners,


With certain Prayers, to be used on the first Day of Lent, and at other times, as the Ordinary shall appoint.



After Morning Prayer, the Litany ended according to the accustomed manner, the Priest shall, in the reading Pew or Pulpit, say,


BRETHREN, in the Primitive Church there was a godly discipline, that, at the beginning of Lent, such persons as stood convicted of notorious sin were put to open penance, and punished in this world, that their souls might be saved in the day of the Lord; and that others, admonished by their example, might be the more afraid to offend.


Instead whereof, until the said discipline may be restored again, (which is much to be wished,) it is thought good, that at this time (in the presence of you all) should be read the general sentences of God's cursing against impenitent sinners, gathered out of the seven and twentieth Chapter of Deuteronomy, and other places of Scripture; and that ye should answer to every Sentence, Amen: To the intent that, being admonished of the great indignation of God against sinners, ye may the rather be moved to earnest and true repentance; and may walk more warily in these dangerous days; fleeing from such vices, for which ye affirm with your own mouths the curse of God to be due.


CURSED is the man that maketh any carved or molten image, to worship it.



And the people shall answer and say,
Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that curseth his father or mother.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that removeth his neighbour's landmark.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that maketh the blind to go out of his way.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that perverteth the judgement of the stranger, the fatherless, and widow.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that smiteth his neighbour secretly.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that lieth with his neighbour's wife.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that taketh reward to slay the innocent.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed is he that putteth his trust in man, and taketh man for his defence, and in his heart goeth from the Lord.

Answer. Amen.


Minister. Cursed are the unmerciful, fornicators, and adulterers, covetous persons, idolaters, slanderers, drunkards, and extortioners.

Answer. Amen.



Minister.


NOW seeing that all they are accursed (as the prophet David beareth witness) who do err and go astray from the commandments of God; let us (remembering the dreadful judgement hanging over our heads, and always ready to fall upon us) return unto our Lord God, with all contrition and meekness of heart; bewailing and lamenting our sinful life, acknowledging and confessing our offences, and seeking to bring forth worthy fruits of penance. For now is the axe put unto the root of the trees, so that every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit is hewn down, and cast into the fire. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God: he shall pour down rain upon the sinners, snares, fire and brimstone, storm and tempest; this shall be their portion to drink. For lo, the Lord is come out of his place to visit the wickedness of such as dwell upon the earth. But who may abide the day of his coming? Who shall be able to endure when he appeareth? His fan is in his hand, and he will purge his floor, and gather his wheat into the bam; but he will burn the chaff with unquenchable fire. The day of the Lord cometh as a thief in the night: and when men shall say, Peace, and all things are safe, then shall sudden destruction come upon them, as sorrow cometh upon a woman travailing with child, and they shall not escape. Then shall appear the wrath of God in the day of vengeance, which obstinate sinners, through the stubbornness of their heart, have heaped unto them, selves; which despised the goodness, patience, and long, sufferance of God, when he calleth them continually to repentance. Then shall they call upon me, (saith the Lord,) but I will not hear; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me; and that, because they hated knowledge, and received not the fear of the Lord, but abhorred my counsel, and despised my correction. Then shall it be too late to knock when the door shall be shut; and too late to cry for mercy when it is the time of justice. O terrible voice of most just judgement, which shall be pronounced upon them, when it shall be said unto them, Go, ye cursed, into the fire everlasting, which is prepared for the devil and his angels. Therefore, brethren, take we heed betime, while the day of salvation lasteth; for the night cometh, when none can work. But let us, while we have the light, believe in the light, and walk as children of the light; that we be not cast into utter darkness, where is weeping and gnashing of teeth. Let us not abuse the goodness of God, who calleth us mercifully to amendment, and of his endless pity promiseth us forgiveness of that which is past, if with a perfect and true heart we return unto him. For though our sins be as red as scarlet, they shall be made white as snow; and though they be like purple, yet they shall be made white as wool. Turn ye (saith the Lord) from all your wickedness, and your sin shall not be your destruction: Cast away from you all your ungodliness that ye have done: Make you new hearts, and a new spirit: Wherefore will ye die, O ye house of Israel, seeing that I have no pleasure in the death of him that dieth, saith the Lord God? Tom ye then, and ye shall live. Although we have sinned, yet have we an Advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and he is the propitiation for our sins. For he was wounded for our offences, and smitten for our wickedness. Let us therefore return unto him, who is the merciful receiver of all true penitent sinners; assuring ourselves that he is ready to receive us, and most willing to pardon us, if we come unto him with faithful repentance; if we submit ourselves unto him, and from henceforth walk in his ways; if we will take his easy yoke, and light burden upon us, to follow him in lowliness, patience, and charity, and be ordered by the governance of his Holy Spirit; seeking always his glory, and serving him duly in our vocation with thanksgiving: This if we do, Christ will deliver us from the curse of the law, and from the extreme malediction which shall light upon them that shall be set on the left hand; and he will set us on his right hand, and give us the gracious benediction of his Father, commanding us to take possession of his glorious kingdom: Unto which he vouchsafe to bring us all, for his infinite mercy. Amen.


Then shall they all kneel upon their knees, and the Priest and Clerks kneeling (in the place where they are accustomed to say the Litany) shall say this Psalm.



Miserere mei, deus. Psalm 51


HAVE mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness: according to the multitude of thy mercies do away mine offences.


Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness: and cleanse me from my sin.


For I acknowledge my faults: and my sin is ever before me.


Against thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified in thy saying, and clear when thou art judged.


Behold, I was shapen in wickedness: and in sin hath my mother conceived me.


But lo, thou requirest truth in the inward parts: and shalt make me to understand wisdom secretly.


Thou shalt purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.


Thou shalt make me hear of joy and gladness: that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.


Turn thy face away from my sins: and put out all my misdeeds.


Make me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me.


Cast me not away from thy presence: and take not thy Holy Spirit from me.


O give me the comfort of thy help again: and stablish me with thy free Spirit.


Then shall I teach thy ways unto the wicked: and sinners shall be converted unto thee.


Deliver me from blood guiltiness, O God, thou that art the God of my health: and my tongue shall sing of thy righteousness.


Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord: and my mouth shall shew thy praise.


For thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it thee: but thou delightest not in burnt-offerings.


The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit: a broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt thou not despise.


O be favourable and gracious unto Sion: build thou the walls of Jerusalem.


Then shalt thou be pleased with the sacrifice of righteousness, with the burnt-offerings and ablations: then shall they offer young bullocks upon thine attar.


Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the Holy Ghost;


Answer. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Amen.


Lord, have mercy upon us.


Christ, have mercy upon us.


Lord, have mercy upon us.



OUR Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive them that trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; But deliver us from evil. Amen.



Minister. O Lord, save thy servants;


Answer. That put their trust in thee.


Minister. Send unto them help from above.


Answer. And evermore mightily defend them.


Minister. Help us, O God our Saviour.


Answer. And for the glory of thy Name deliver us; be merciful to us sinners, for thy Name's sake.


Minister. O Lord, hear our prayer.


Answer. And let our cry come unto thee.



Minister. Let us pray.


LORD, we beseech thee, mercifully hear our prayers, and spare all those who confess their sins unto thee; that they, whose consciences by sin are accused, by thy merciful pardon may be absolved; through Christ our Lord. Amen.


MOST mighty God, and merciful Father, who hast compassion upon all men, and hatest nothing that thou hast made; who wouldest not the death of a sinner, but that he should rather turn from his sin, and be saved: Mercifully forgive us our trespasses; receive and comfort us, who are grieved and wearied with the burden of our sins. Thy property is always to have mercy; to thee only it appertaineth to forgive sins. Spare us therefore, good Lord, spare thy people, whom thou hast redeemed; enter not into judgement with thy servants, who are vile earth, and miserable sinners; but so turn thine anger from us, who meekly acknowledge our vileness, and truly repent us of our faults, and so make haste to help us in this world, that we may ever live with thee in the world to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.



Then shall the people say this that followeth, after the Minister.


TURN thou us, O good Lord, and so shall we be turned. Be favourable, O Lord, Be favourable to thy people, Who turn to thee in weeping, fasting, and praying. For thou art a merciful God, Full of compassion. Longsuffering, and of great pity. Thou sparest when we deserve punishment, And in thy wrath thinkest upon mercy. Spare thy people, good Lord, spare them, And let not thine heritage be brought to confusion. Hear us, O Lord, for thy mercy is great, And after the multitude of thy mercies look upon us; Through the merits and mediation of thy blessed Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.






Then the Minister alone shall say,


THE Lord bless us, and keep us; the Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon us, and give us peace, now and for evermore. Amen.

A Reply to @love the girls - and anyone else who's interested.

In the combox on my recent post http://left-footer.blogspot.com/2011/01/just-out-of-hospital-had-my-feminine.html?showComment=1296135261950#c3008232919866284614, love the girls asked:

"Left Footer writes : "Feminine sides are not much appreciated here in rural Poland (except in women). . . Men are expected to be men"

Wondering. The same could be said of rural America, but it would be misleading because while the men give that appearance, they're actually wimps who let their disordered appetite rule them. Where degrade debauchery is mistaken for manliness.

It's the Betty Lou at the pool hall principle of being true to one's self. Which in turn means giving into lust or what ever other appetite strikes one's fancy.

Are rural Polish men manly? or just a variation of the rural American men who grovel in their womanish appetites?"


Having been here less than six years, I don't claim to be an expert on the Polish charatcter, either male or female. I know very little of the American character, except that I have met only one American out of many, a Californian new-ager, whom I did not like.

The typical Polish household is a matriarchy. Polish women whom I've met are characteristically strong-willed, and gently, firmly, seductively, wittily rule the home. This, for me, is good and natural.

I would not describe Polish men as weak, feminine, or ruled by their appetites. The satisfaction, within bounds, of a healthy appeteite is, I think, healthy, legitimate, and Chestertonian. Polish men eat and drink well. A half litre of vodka, plus the odd beer, in an evening, is normal, but I have seen only one Pole actually drunk. He remained a perfect gentleman throughout.

There is, for me, nothing unmanly about the nation which toppled communism via Solidarność, Pope John Paul II, and the Martyr Jerzy Popiełuszko; who fought so heroically in the streets of Warsaw during the Uprising of 1944; who, at the risk of execution and torture at German hands, took into their homes Jewish children, and forged Birth and Baptismal Cerificates for them. Go into a rural Catholic Church in Poland and count the Jewish faces. Thank God, sometimes 30 - 40 percent.

Polish pilots of the 303 Squadron fought in the Battle of Britain in 1940, and percentage-wise, brought down more German planes, lost fewer planes, and had fewer mechanics than their British comrades in arms. Don't believe me - read Norman Davis 'Rising 44'.

They are on the whole, very hard-working, unboastful, modest, quiet,  kindly, deeply Catholic, hospitable - I could go on and on, boring the pants of everyone. I won't.

Catholic Blogs to Follow - Part 3

Australi Incognita - Catholic News from Down Under http://australiaincognita.blogspot.com/2011/01/and-they-will-know-we-are-pagans-by-our.html

Bad Vestments - Hilarious http://badvestments.blogspot.com/

Button's Blog - Lively, excellent http://patrick-button.blogspot.com/

Doorbell - more later!

NEWMAN SPEAKS TODAY TO US THROUGH BLAIR - POPE POLYPISTIS I

London 29.01.2070.

During this morning's General Audience, held in the Conway Hall, Red Lion Square, London, His Happiness, Pope Polypistis I spoke warmly of the fragrant memory of Saint Tony Blair, canonised one year ago today.

Riding on the Papal Unicycle, and steering an impeccably straight course along the Golden Line of Tolerance specially painted on the floor, His Happiness, wearing the the Universal Tiara, which bears the insignia of all the major Faiths, as well as others too numerous and esoteric to catalogue, greeted delegates from Catholic Abortionists, Queering The Church, We Are Church, and the general public.

"A Saint's life," his Happiness remarked, "is an open book where we can read what we will. Saint Tony devoted his life, as well as his overarching gifts of courage, intellect, honesty, and humility, to the pursuit of all that is good.

"In the true spirit of Newman, he stood for the Truth, and the rights of Conscience courageously to follow and embrace that Truth wherever it may be found.

"Many were the voices raised against him, not least in this our church, by those for whom the easy option of blind obedience to mere dogma was more attractive that the pursuit of Truth through a truly enlightenened Conscience.

"Newman speaks today to us through Blair.

"Pass me the ....."

Pope Benedict XVI on Saint Joan of Arc and a Question for Pacifists.

Catholic Pacifists, on the face of it, might seem to have a point when they quote the following:

 John Paul II, Encyclical Letter "Veritatis splendor," n. 75-77).

An action which is objectively evil, even if a lesser evil, can never be licitly willed against an aggressor.

Clearly, the example of Saint Joan shows that the killing of another human being is not objectively evil, if the act is performed in self-defence against an aggressor, or in defence of another or others against an aggressor, or in the service of one's country in a just war. As The Holy Father said today, in a general Audience in Pope VI Hall:


"The Name of Jesus invoked by this Saint in the last instants of her earthly life was as the continual breath of her soul, ... the centre of her entire life", the Holy Father explained. "This saint understood that Love embraces all things of God and man, of heaven and earth, of the Church and the world. ... Liberating her people was an act of human justice, which Joan performed in charity, for love of Jesus, hers is a beautiful example of sanctity for lay people involved in political life, especially in the most difficult situations.

"Joan saw in Jesus all the reality of the Church, the 'Church triumphant' in heaven and the 'Church militant' on earth. In her own words, 'Our Lord and the Church are one'. This affirmation ... takes on a truly heroic aspect in the context of the trial, in the face of her judges, men of the Church who persecuted and condemned her.
 "With her shining witness St. Joan of Arc invites us to the highest degree of Christian life, making prayer the motif of our days, having complete trust in achieving the will of God whatever it may be, living in charity without favouritisms or limitations, and finding in the Love of Jesus, as she did, a profound love for His Church."


Nowhere does His Holiness express regret at the English "illicitly" killed by Saint Joan or her army. He even goes as far as to say that "liberating her people was an act of human justice".


Whether one can justify, for example, a pre-emptive strike (nuclear or not) againt a pseudo-theocracy or future hitlerist-governed country possessing or developing nuclear weapons is beyond the grasp of this humble, untheological Left-footer to determine.

Or is it licit for an old, puny person, armed with a sword or gun to kill a stronger person in order to save the life or innocence of a woman, or child, or indeed any victim of unjust aggression?


In both cases, my first, unChristian gut reaction is to say I'd do it.

I think to defend the innocent, as a last resort, I would.

As to the nuclear situation, I just don't know.

Why I have Stopped going to Confession

Sometimes this new age stuff is so cooool! All Priests think about is sin. Don't talk to me about sin!

Got the idea from Marco's excellent blog, and left it there as a comment. http://prime1-marco.blogspot.com/2011/01/psychology-of-confession.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+ConfessionsOfAThirtySomethingCybertronian+%28Confessions+of+a+Thirty+Something+Cybertronian%29.



I go to a shrink,
Who tells me I think
Too much for my cerebral welfare.
But he's nicer, at least,
Than my Catholic Priest,
Who says I'm in danger of Hell-fire.

Just Out of Hospital - Had My Feminine Side Amputated.

I never really had a feminine side, and visitors to my house, which I hasten to say is clean, very often stand awestruck at the general mess and chaos of a man living on his own.

Feminine sides are not much appreciared her in rural Poland (except in women), who tend to be slim, elegant, and beautful. Men are expected to be men and eat like heroes. We have impressive bellies.

At a typical lunch, the hostess, if you are a man, will pile your plate four or five inches high with meat, potatoes, raw vegetables and so on. She will say, "Smacznego!" meaning that she hopes everyone will enjoy eating.

The women pick at their tiny helpings while the men eat like mediaeval Bishops.

When you can at last see the bottom of your plate, and are thinking about coffee, or a brisk walk, the following will ensue:

Lady:   You must have some more!

You:    (with difficulty, having ingested enough to seriously disable a shark) Gladly, but I really can't. It was a revelation, but I'm full.

Lady:   Ah! (face racked with disappointment - needs to be seen to be believed) So you didn't like it.

You:     It was wonderful, but I really couldn't eat anymore.

Lady:    (with determination) But you are a MAN! Please...

And you get a second helping large as the first.

Da Capo.

I'm not complaining. Polish food ranks with French, Italian, Spanish, or Greek. The quantities are, however, epic. 

Sonnet No 3

Sonnet No.3

It’s funny looking back. When I was young,
I thought I’d be a poet and turned out
Some six half-decent lyrics worth a shout,
A hundred which are better left unsung.
Rifled my brain for tropes, bells not yet rung
Anything to be read and talked about.
Then came the cold conviction, icy doubt:
I lacked poetic passion. So  I flung



My work away. Now, altered, old, and tired,
I footle in my verbal potting shed:
Ideas like bulbs and seedlings dry and dead,
Their germination date long, long expired.

Hot bilious anger's now  my motivation,
Polemic doggerel its sublimation.

The Penny Cathechism: "Is Death Terrible?" "Yes, Death Is Terrible"

Why is the following so sickening, at least to me? You can, or could, buy it printed on a laminated card in the bookshop at Westminster Cathedral. It is about being dead.

I think it may be heretical.


"I have only slipped away into the next room"

The popular passage comes from a sermon on death written by Scott Holland and entitled `The King of Terrors.' He delivered it in St. Paul's on 15 May 1910), at which time the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster. The context is important:

'Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!'
So the face speaks. Surely while we speak there is a smile flitting over it; a smile as of gentle fun at the trick played us by seeming death...'


The sermon was published posthumously in a collection entitled Facts of the Faith (Longmans, 1919

George Canning's and J. H. Frere's brilliant "The Friend Of Humanity And The Knife-Grinder"

Better far than my attempt, in my last post, George Canning's and J. H. Frere's brilliant "The Friend Of Humanity And The Knife-Grinder"


Friend of Humanity:
Needy Knife-grinder! whither are you going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order-
Bleak blows the blast;--your hat has got a hole in't,
So have your breeches!

Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones,
Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike
-road, what hard work 'tis crying all day "knives and
"scissors to grind O!"

Tell me, Knife-grinder, how you came to grind knives?
Did some rich man tyranically use you?
Was it the squire? or parson of the parish?
Or the attorney?

Was it the squire, for the killing of his game? or
Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining?
Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little
All in a lawsuit?

(Have you not read the Rights of Man, by Tom Paine?)
Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids,
Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your
Pitiful story."

Knife-grinder:
"Story! God bless you! I have none to tell, sir,
Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers,
This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were
Torn in a scuffle.

"Constables came up for to take me into
Custody; they took me before the justice;
Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish
Stocks for a vagrant.

"I should be glad to drink your Honour's health in
A pot of beer, if you will give me sixpence;
But for my part, I never love to meddle
With politics, sir."

Friend of Humanity:
"I give thee sixpence! I will see thee damn'd first-
Wretch! whom no sense of wrongs can rouse to vengeance-
Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, degraded,
Spiritless outcast!"

[Kicks the Knife-grinder, overturns his wheel, and exit in a transport of Republican enthusiasm and universal philanthropy.]

Silly Goose - Read This And Hate Me

Sorry, it's Sapphic yet again. Can't seem to get the metre out of my head. It's all the fault of that Horace.

Iam satis terris nivis atque dirae
grandinis misit pater et rubente
dextera sacras iaculatus arcis,
terruit urbem,


Here's my attempt, which is substantially true.


Not poetry, just verse..


The Silly Goose

I'm not a great fan of so-called deep ecology.
Tell me that the shark is top of a food chain
Which includes me, and I'm happy to slaughter
Every bloody one of them.

Pace loopy William Blake and daft junkie Coleridge,
Beasts merely irritate, unless I can eat them,
Milk them, or wear them. Leather boots are healthiest.
Leather belts last longest.

Then one day last summer, invited out to lunch, I
Was sitting in the garden, downing a cool Warka
When through the wire fence I saw an oldish grandmother
Hatchet in hand, grope

Under some planks on the ground. Then she pulled out,
Its legs twisted tight behind its back in her free hand,
A beautiful white goose, fattened for tomorrow's
Family banquet.

She stumbled over rough grass to a mossless tree stump.
The goose turned its head back to look. Saw what was coming,
Meekly stretched its neck straight over the block. Down
Swung the cruel axe. Blood.

Then, without appetite, wearily and sadly
I ate, drank, and smilingly made conversation.
I think it was carp, or trout - I don't recall much.
But I will remember

I think forever the glance that the silly
Goose gave her butcher, how, seeing axe and face,
All hope departed, she sadly stretched her neck out
Like any martyr.

We call geese "silly" - it used to mean just "harmless",
Like ducks and chickens. When I get my garden
I shall have some poultry, only for the eggs, though.
Let them die of old age.

But I don't care a damn for rare endangered species
Especially when dangerous. If I had my island
I'd have a pit where crocodiles, snakes,  bears, and sharks
Fought to the death. Just

To annoy the Goodalls and the Attenboroughs,
People who rate animals as equal to humans.
Maybe chuck a few Greenpeacers to the crocodiles
To make up the food chain.


 .

The Magic Circle or Circular Magicians

About two thousand years ago, twelve men,
None a Greek decadent, nor Roman swell,
Met a mere Carpenter, as the Gospels tell,
And changed the world. With works, prayer, tongue, and pen
They touched hearts, minds with Fire. Again and again
Viking, Dane, Moor, and Tartar failed to quell
Its clarity and warmth. But last befell
That misread Council of the Vatican.


Smiling clerical traitors set to work.
Gently more fatal than the warlike Turk,
Bishops and intellectualisers broke
The Papal bond. Imposed a newer yoke.
In Mary's Dowry they smirk, "Ditch the traditions!
Trust not in Popes, but Circular Magicians!"

STANLEY HALLS, HERO AND MARTYR FOR OUR TIMES, or Lodgers can be a Confounded Nuisance

One of the cruellest trials of my life, as some of my readers will know, is the presence, on an adjoining page of this blog, of the execrable Smirk http://bishopsmirk.blogspot.com/
The poor fellow is currently on a new-age binge, and rambles on about rainbow gatherings, whatever they might be.

He also complains that he has had only one visit to his blog since its inception. It is not hard to understand why. It is in a spirit of charity, therefore, and certainly not tolerance, that I have allowed him space for his latest creative effort, A Battle Hymn to the Memory of Stanley Halls, an LGBT social worker who perished some fifteen years ago under the wheels of a Croydon tram, after an irate Irishman, whom he had unfortunately (to say the least) propositioned, knocked him into its path.

As readers consider my apologies, I trust they will understand the charitable spirit in which, without endorsement, I publish this.

The abominable Smirk says that it is written to be sung to the tune of the 'Horst Wessel Song". He apparently wants to purify this abhorrent dirge from its nazi connotations. I do not much like martial music.

As an explanatory note to non-British readers, Steel is, of course, Davis Steel, who introduced the 1967 Abortion Act, and Harriet Harmon is a prominent Labour MP and activist.

The Stanley Halls Song

In our great nation's roll-call of rememberance
Crammed full of heroines and heroes too
Above the names of Marx, Steel, Harmon, Engels,
One name shines forth - of Stanley Halls the True.

A social worker he, the best and wisest,
Lesbian, gay, bisex, transexual too.
A rainbow person, tolerant, accepting,
Who loved non-homophobes like me and you.

One rainy night, in Croydon, in November,
Our gallant Stanley, waiting for a bus,
Spoke gentle words to one who was also waiting,
(Genus: Hiberno-homophobicus).

The Irishman responded with a cruel blow,
That sent Stan flying. Sure, 'twas a grand slam!
Oh, lifeless lay our LGTB martyr
Beneath the wheels of an uncaring tram.

Our Stanley fell beside the cold bus shelter,
Close by the disused halal abbatoir.
The sodium light shone full upon his features,
Its pale effulgence purer than a star.

So sing we now our hero, Stanley, true.
O Stanley Halls! O Stanley Halls!
O be our inspiration ever new
When darkness falls and duty calls.

Beyond Parody: Homosexual Geography? Maths?? Science???

HAT-TIP TO MICHAEL_MERRICK


I have not the talent to parody this, but suggest that the promulgators have done it for me.

Think of the bigoted prejudice and social exclusion faced by those who want to have sexual relations with chickens, or lobsters, or (viz. Krafft-Ebbing) grandfather clocks. Don't they, too, deserve a look-in?


From The Telagraph 22.01.2010




'Gay lessons' in maths, geography and science


Children are to be taught about homosexuality in maths, geography and science lessons as part of a Government-backed drive to "celebrate the gay community".


The lesson plans, spread across the curriculum, will be offered to all schools, which can choose whether or not to make use of them Photo: GETTY By Jasper Copping 9:00PM GMT 22 Jan


Lesson plans have been drawn up for pupils as young as four, in a scheme funded with a £35,000 grant from an education quango, the Training and Development Agency for Schools.


The initiative will be officially launched next month at the start of "LGBT History Month" – an initiative to encourage teaching about lesbian, gay, bisexual and transsexual issues.


The lesson plans, spread across the curriculum, will be offered to all schools, which can choose whether or not to make use of them.


But critics last night called the initiative a poor use of public money which could distract from the teaching of "core" subjects.


Among the suggestions are:


Maths – teaching statistics through census findings about the number of homosexuals in the population, and using gay characters in scenarios for maths problems;


Design and technology – encouraging pupils to make symbols linked to the gay rights movement;


Science – studying animal species where the male takes a leading role in raising young, such as emperor penguins and sea horses, and staging class discussions on different family structures, including same-sex parents;


Geography – examining the transformation of San Francisco's Castro district in the 1960s from a working-class Irish area to the world's first "gay neighbourhood", and considering why homosexuals move from the countryside to cities;


Languages – using gay characters in role play scenarios, and teaching "LGBT vocabulary".


The lesson plans, written by teachers and backed by the Department for Education, will be available for schools to download from the Schools Out website.


For younger children, the plans will suggest using images of same sex couples and also promoting books such as "And Tango Makes Three", which is about two male penguins raising a young chick, inspired by actual events at New York's Central Park Zoo.


The Schools Out organisation, which runs the month-long event, declares on its website that the aim is to "celebrate the lives and achievements of the LGBT community" and "encourage everyone to see diversity and cultural pluralism as positive forces".


However, Craig Whittaker, Conservative MP for Calder Valley and a member of the Education Select Committee, said: "This is nonsense.


We have enough problems in our country, where we are too far down the national comparative league tables in these core subjects.


"Teachers should concentrate on teaching the core subjects, so we become the best at those again. I don't see how introducing LGBT themes into those subjects is going to help.


"This is not about being homophobic, because there are other schemes around the education system which support the LGBT agenda."


John O'Connell, from the TaxPayers' Alliance, added: "Parents will wonder if this is the right use of funds and time in those subjects, particularly when we keep hearing how tight budgets are."


Sue Sanders, from Schools Out, defended the project.


She said: "These lessons are not big tub-thumping lessons about LGBT and nothing else.


"All we are attempting to do is remind teachers that LGBT people are part of the population and you can include them in most of your lessons when you are thinking inclusively."


David Watkins, a teacher involved in the scheme, said: "We don't want teachers to start out saying 'This is a gay lesson.' We just want lessons that don't ignore that there are lesbian and gay people who suffer from issues and problems.


"When you have a maths problem, why does it have to involve a straight family or a boyfriend and girlfriend? Why not two boys or two girls?


"It's not about teaching about gay sex, it is about images and exposing children to the idea that there are other types of people out there."


A spokesman for the TDA said the funding was secured last March and that £20,000 was to go towards the lesson plans, with the rest spent mostly on the website.


A Department for Education spokesman added: "These are optional teaching materials. Ultimately, it is for heads and teachers to choose the most appropriate teaching resources to help promote equality and tolerance."


LGBT History Month started in 2005 and has previously focused more on raising awareness of prominent figures said to be homosexual.


A list on its website includes Hadrian, the Roman emperor, Michaelangelo, the Renaissance painter, Alan Turing, the mathematician, and Will Young, the singer.

ttp://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/educationnews/8275937/Gay-lessons-in-maths-geography-and-science.html

J'accuse - moi-meme

This blog has become a cess-pool, a styrculum, of uncharity and negativity.

This must stop.

From now on, at least for a while, I shall try to comment only positively, looking for the good, and not for what offends, "judging not, lest I be judged".

Don't hold your breath.

A GOOD THING, AND NOT MINE OWN, WRITTEN BY WOODBINE WILLIE

Not mine this time, but a favourite hymn by G. A. Studdert Kennedy, an army chaplain of the Great War, and a Christian Socialist, known to the troops as 'Woodbine Willie', from the cigarettes he gave them.

I haven't heard it since I last sang it at school fifty years ago. It made me choke then, and it still does, with its noble vision of the dignity of labour, affirmed by Saint Augustine (as Austen bit), and treasured by me.

When through the whirl of wheels and engines humming,
Patiently powerful for the sons of men,
Peals like a trumpet promise of His coming,
Who in the clouds is pledged to come again.

When through the night the furnace fires a-flaring,
Shooting out tongues of flame like leaping blood,
Speak to the soul of Man, alive and daring,
Speak of the boundless energy of God.

When in the depths the patient miner striving,
Feels in his arms the vigour of the Lord,
Strikes for a Kingdom and his King's arriving,
Holding his pick more splendid than a sword.

When on the sweat of labour and its sorrow,
Toiling in twilight, flickering and dim,
Flames out the sunshine of the great to-morrow,
When all the world looks up because of Him.

Then will He come, with meekness for His glory,
God in a workman's jacket as before,
Living again the Eternal Gospel Story,
Sweeping the shavings from His workshop floor.

The last line is, perhaps, just a little weak, but the effect of the whole is for me magnificent.

A SONNET, ADDRESSED IN A SPIRIT OF RESPECTFUL INQUIRY, TO ARCHBISHOP VINCENT NICHOLS

The following remarks were made, according to The Daily Telegraph, by Archbishop Vincent Nichols.

The old language – of mortal sin, for example – was, he says, a misguided attempt to motivate the faithful. (I quote from D.Telegraph.)

"Fear is never a good motivation. The whole point of the Catholic journey is that it is a journey, and we try to hold together high ideals and understanding. That is the same for people who struggle in whatever way with their sexuality. It's an aim."

Sonnet addressed by a greatly relieved sinner to Archbishop Vincent Nicholls.

(I have tried, as you will see, to be gender-inclusive.)


Archishop, have you told Beelzebub,
If, as you say, there is no mortal sin,
That he and his boss may as well chuck it in
And close Hell as redundant? Can we now scrub
The Ten Commandments?  Follow, without fear,
Our journey of understanding and ideals?
And what if one of us rapes, murders, steals?
(S)he was unmotivated, as you made clear.


Relieved I sigh, pursue my pilgrimage -
Sorry, I meant journey. At the end,
A champion sinner, but to ideals a friend,
With Lenin, fearless of Hell's unending rage,
Of Purgatory's fire I'll feel no fright.
But tell me, Archbishop, have I got that right?

MORAL THEOLOGY: IT'S A SIN TO TELL A LIE, BUT ALWAYS?

I have read several blogs which state, unequivocally, that it is always sinful to lie, even to save someone's life, and a fascinating entry in the New Advent Catholic encyclopoedia (http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/10195b.htm) on mental reservation, seems to support this view.

Hard cases, as lawyers say - or used to say, make bad law, but here are some hard cases:

In the last war, Polish Catholic Priests, at risk of their own lives, forged baptismal documents, and the Home Army provided false non-Jewish birth certificates, for Jewish children who were taken into Catholic homes to avoid murder by the Germans. Lying? Certainly. Sin? Not in my opinion, just heroism. Those heroic Poles, and the children they saved, faced torture and execution if caught.

Soldiers use camouflage and disinformation to deceive the enemy, as was done before the D Day landings in Normandy. Lying? Yup. Sin? Nope.

Captured Allied agents in Germany or Axis-occupied territory lied, even under torture, to save fellow agents, allies, or help their own country. A mortal sin? If so, one I may owe my life to.

Deceiving the enemy, whether a foreign force, an occupying power, or in a civil war, in order to save the lives of others or your own: sin? No. Duty? Yes.

The police ask a Priest if Mr Badman has confessed to murdering his wife. The Priest, bound by the seal of the Confessional lies and says that he has not. A damned liar? I would not say so.

I would go further, and propose that a military or armed enemy or an evil civil power has no right to the truth, compared with the right people have to their lives.

I would propose even further that such an enemy should be routinely lied to and deceived directly and indirectly in any way which will make his purposes less realisable.

Satan is commonly referred to as the father of lies. Sometimes we lie, because the evil created by Satan gives us little choice.

So I guess I'm a heretic.

Huh!

VERY BORING IF YOU DON'T FIND LANGUAGES INTERESTING - 2

I came to Poland over five years ago and promised that I would be fluent in the language in 2 years. I was rash, too rash. I have heard that it is the hardest language in the world, and this may well be true. Poles who have learned Japanese say how easy it is to speak (but not write). They are clever people, as they must be to speak their own language 100% correctly and as fast as they do.

English has two genders, but they apply only to pronouns and possessive adjectives. German has masculine feminine and neuter, and the modern Latin languages only two - masculine and feminine.

Polish has, grammatically, five genders in the singular:

1. feminine,
2. neuter,
3. masuline inanimate
4. masculine non-virile (male, alive non-human),
5. masculine virile (male, alive, human),

Grammatical gender affects not only declension, the pattern of case endings, in a language which has seven cases, (Latin has six, Ancient Greek 5) but also how number is expressed.

For example, in 1, 2, 3 and 4, you count one cat, two cats, ditto three and four, but five of cats. Easy.

In 5, you say, 'there is a man outside', but 'it is of two, of men outside' - not so easy. You have to know the genitive of every number, 2 to infinity. Numbers decline, as well as nouns and adjectives.

This is not just formal Polish. Everyone declines and conjugates correctly, in writing and in speech. They talk as fast as Italians.

So, after five years, I still speak execrable Polish, fast, but grammatically abominable.

My comfort is that I know a couple married and living in Poland fo six years, Polish husband, English wife. The wife still has weekly Polish lessons - and problems with the language.

Pronunciation is something else - try saying quickly 'skrzypce' (in English approx: skshiptse) = violin, or 'chcę' (ch - as in Scots 'loch' + tseuwn) = I want.

Hah! Me too!

No Quid Pro Quo

Just a thought:

Every week if possible, I shall be posting, alphabetically, links to blogs I enjoy and follow, just because I enjoy them and think they are well worth following.

Relax. I don't expect anyone to follow me back simply because I give them a shout-out. If you find my blog irritating, boring, heretical, or an occasion of sin (uncharity), you can either tell me so (please do!) or you don't have to read it.

God bless!

NINE MORE BLOGS WELL WORTH FOLLOWING: ALPAHBETICAL

Wise and thoughtful - a good read.   http://opinionatedcatholic.blogspot.com/

Well-worth reading for updates on pro-life and many other issues. http://deaconforlife.blogspot.com/

Excellent for religion and politics. http://defend-us-in-battle.blogspot.com/

Brilliant! Very funny! http://catholiccartoonblog.blogspot.com/

Wise and temperate blog, far from dull. http://catholiccitizenamerica.blogspot.com/2011/01/you-think-you-had-bad-day-elijah.html?

Speaks for itself - I hope. Sheen was my kind of Bishop.http://fultonsheen.blogspot.com

Always worth reading. http://christophersapologies.blogspot.com/

Learned, philosophical, orthodox, Catholic http://edwardfeser.blogspot.com/

Father Hunwicke. Anglo-Catholic, a learned Latinist, and wise. http://liturgicalnotes.blogspot.com/

Liturgical Dance Rhapsody

It’s that special time,
That moment sublime
When the priest climbs on his pogo stick and bounces!
The praise-band is there
Time for physical prayer,
A comely dame across the chancel flounces.

Liturgical Dance!
Ecclesial prance!
It’s so me! I hope that no one will deride me.
I kick off my shoes.
I’m starting to ooze
Down the aisle just like the snake-hips that’s inside me.

The traddies all sneer.
It’s only their fear
That makes them want a Terpsichorean ban.
The hypnotic chant
Is just what I want
To make me sway and flex as only I can.

My crimplene’s swishing
And how I’m wishing,
As I imitate Fontaine’s ‘The Dying Swan',
Then back-flip so neat,
But land on my seat,
That nobody will spot that I’m a man.

Professor Dupa Cloaca - Getting a Grip on the Classics

Sonnet on Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth, as he wrote it:

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! The very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!



And now, brought up to date, and made relevant::

Sonnet on Westminster River-Related Pedestrian and Vehicular Facility, as rewritten by Professor Dupa Cloaca, Professor of Newspeak at, and Founder of, Cloaca College, Camford.

Now much more relevant.

Top of world-class locations, quality plus
Only the spiritually-challenged would
Ignore a sight so emotionally good
And first rate. It looks so fabulous,
Wearing the pretty morning, noise-free, nude
-The urban built environment’s pristine
In the unpolluted atmosphere, so fine,
That agro-touristic features can be viewed.

Sun never lit natural amenities so well.
I never felt so cool, so chilled, I tell
You. The waterway flows constraint-free, and how!
Dwellings seem to be sleeping, as of now.
And from the lack of movement in its chest,
Seems like the place has cardiac arrest.

Catullus's Farewell to the Ashes of his Brother - and Robert Johnson's "Love in Vain".

Perhaps it's a sign of getting old that I find myself returning to the pleasures and passions of my youth: poetry, mediaeval music, jazz, blues, and alcohol.

The following is just another old favourite of mine, which I intend to try to translate, perhaps as a sonnet:


Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus
Avdenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias
Ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
Et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem.
Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum,
Heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi,
Nunc tamen interea haec, prisco quae more parentum
Tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias,
Accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu,
Atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.

And here is 'Love in Vain', by Robert Johnson, the great blues singer and guitarist, who died in 1937. Much of its beauty, as with Greek poetry, lies in what it leaves out.

I followed her to the station, with my suitcase in my hand.
Oh it's hard to tell - it's hard to tell when all your love's in vain

When the train came into the station, I looked her in the eye.
I was lonesome, oh so lonesome, I could not help but cry.

When the train it left the station, with two lights on behind,
Oh the blue light was my blues, and the red light was my  mind.

EPITAPH ON THE SPARTANS AT THERMOPYLAE

Everyone knows it, or of it, but it will bear repetition.

Magnificent - not the word -'noble' is better-  in its appropriately laconic, lapidary simplicity, here it is. I think poetry can reach no higher.

Ὦ ξεῖν', ἀγγέλλειν Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτι τῇδε
κείμεθα, τοῖς κείνων ῥήμασι πειθόμενοι.

My translation, humbly submitted as accurate and prodosically correct, but without pretension to being poetry:

Go tell the Lacedaimonians, passer-by
Obedient to their orders, here we lie.

Your comments, expert or not, are most welcome.


Translation by others, all inaccurate:

o tell the Spartans, thou who passest by,
That here, obedient to their laws, we lie. William Lisle Bowles

Stranger, tell the Spartans that we behaved
as they would wish us to, and are buried here. William Golding

Stranger! To Sparta say, her faithful band
Here lie in death, remembering her command. Francis Hodgson

Stranger, report this word, we pray, to the Spartans, that lying
Here in this spot we remain, faithfully keeping their laws. George Campbell Macaulay

Stranger, bear this message to the Spartans,
that we lie here obedient to their laws. William Roger Paton

Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by,
that here obedient to their laws we lie. Steven Pressfield

Go, stranger, and to Lacedaemon tell
That here, obeying her behests, we fell. George Rawlinson

Go, way-farer, bear news to Sparta's town
that here, their bidding done, we laid us down. Cyril E. Robinson

Go tell the Spartans, you who read:
We took their orders, and lie here dead. Aubrey de Sélincourt

Friend, tell Lacedaemon
Here we lie
Obedient to our orders. William Shepherd

Oh Stranger, tell the Spartans
That we lie here obedient to their word. From the 1962 film The 300 Spartans

Stranger, go tell the Spartans
That we lie here
True, even to the death
To our Spartan way of life. J. Rufus Fears

Go tell the Spartans, passerby:
That here, by Spartan law, we lie.

BLOGS WELL WORTH FOLLOWING

Now I know , or at least I think I know, how to embed a link, I shall be recommending my favourite blogs on a weekly basis.

Paul Mallinder's The Catholic Whistle is light-heartedly serious, wise, perceptive, often funny, and always worth reading.

"Who prop, thou ask'st in these sad days, my mind?" (Matthew Arnold) Homer, of course, but also good blogs.

Paul's  can be found at http://catholic-whistleblog.blogspot.com/2011/01/say-no-to-jiminy-cricket.html

Wagner - Muzak For The Lavatory

I can't sleep, so a Jack Daniels and warm water may help.

And does anyone else find Wagner's music as utterly repellent - evil even - as I do?

I suppose it would do as muzak in a very dirty public lavatory.

AS DR JOHNSON SAID

"No man, but a blockhead, ever wrote except for money."

Perhaps he meant 'blogger'.

Wise man, Dr Johnson!

Clearly I am a blockhead.

And so to bed.

Matthew Arnold: Culture and Anarchy

I have long been an admirer of Arnold's poetry and criticism, and following my last post but one: 'Odi Ergo Sum', and @love the girls's objection to my rather exclusive use of the word 'culture', I append Matthew Arnold's introduction to his extended essay 'Culture and Anarchy', in which I have printed in bold his definition, with which I whole-heartedly concur.

My objection to the use of the word 'culture' to refer to something lesser is not simply nostalgic. The word has been appropriated by ethnologists, anthropologists, multi-culturalists, and those more sinister folk who want to blend their interpretation of its meaning with that of religion, so as to reduce the latter word's meaning to that of a 'life-style choice.

I object also to having to apply the word 'culture' even-handedly to Shakespeare, Phillip Roth, John Lennon, and (pace Christopher Ricks) Bob Dylan



"To pass now to the matters canvassed in the following essay. The whole scope of the essay is to recommend culture as the great help out of our present difficulties; culture being a pursuit of our total perfection by means of getting to know, on all the matters which most concern us, the best which has been thought and said in the world and, through this knowledge, turning a stream of fresh and free thought upon our stock notions and habits, which we now follow staunchly but mechanically, vainly imagining that there is a virtue in following them staunchly which makes up for the mischief of following them mechanically. This, and this alone, is the scope of the following essay. I say again here, what I have said in the pages which follow, that from the faults and weaknesses of bookmen a notion of something bookish, pedantic, and futile has got itself more or less connected with the word culture, and that it is a pity we cannot use a word more perfectly free from all shadow of reproach."

Εἰπέ τις, Ἡράκλειτε, τεὸν μόρον ἐς δέ με δάκρυ - just a favourite poem

Εἰπέ τις, Ἡράκλειτε, τεὸν μόρον ἐς δέ με δάκρυ
ἤγαγεν ἐμνήσθην δ᾿ ὁσσάκις ἀμφότεροι
ἠέλιον λέσχῃ κατεδύσαμεν. ἀλλὰ σὺ μέν που,
ξεῖν᾿ Ἁλικαρνησεῦ, τετράπαλαι σποδιή,
αἱ δὲ τεαὶ ζώουσιν ἀηδόνες, ᾗσιν ὁ πάντων
ἁρπακτὴς Ἀίδης οὐκ ἐπὶ χεῖρα βαλεῖ.

Callimachus

William Cory translated it poetically, but buried the Greek reserve and terseness beneath Victorian sentimentality. Here is his version.


THEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept as I remember'd how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

My version, more faithful to the Greek follows.

Someone told me, Heraclitus, of your death and left me
In tears as I remembered how often we together
Sent the Sun to bed, but where are you now, my
Halicarnasian guest, long ago ashes?

Yet your Nightingales still live, on which Death
Cannot lay his rapacious hand.

Your comments, positive or negative, are most welcome.

Odi Ergo Sum

I loathe:

The use of the word 'culture' to mean anything other than what Matthew Arnold meant by it.

Amoral or immoral fiction and verse.

The failure to understand that some Muslims, looking at sex-driven post-Christian Western society, want to destroy it. Their methods may be abominable, but I share their disgust and loathing.

'Traditionalism" which is obsessed with minutiae of Catholic ritual.

Fake bonhommie in Church from those who ignore me outside.

Being expected to shake hands at the Sign of Peace with knuckle-crunchers and nose-pickers. I won't.

Cool, awesome, wicked, fabulous, world-class, and other words whose meanings have been violated by cheapjack word-smiths.

Most newspapers.

The idea, promulgated by the Blairs and others too numerous to mention, that the Church must learn from modern 'thinking' and contribute to something worldly that is supposedly bigger than itself.

Slams down another vodka and shambles off to bed.

Dobranoc i miłych snów.

A Dead End - The Death of Culture

It seems that Oxford University Honours School of English Language and Literature has been debating the future of Old English (which a lecturer seemed to think was an irrelevant dead-end), Chaucer, and Shakespeare, in the compulsory parts of the syllabus.

For all I know, they are no longer compulsory.

The new syllabus includes Phillip Roth. The subject of his book, 'Portnoy's Complaint', is masturbation.

I can think of no 'deader-end' than that particular vice.

Are We all Pacifists Now?

It seems from reading blogs, articles, and Bishops' pronouncements, that the Catholic Church is, or is becoming, pacifist.

If so, how shall we explain away Saint Joan of Arc?