There’s a big discussion of what age is right. Of course he points out that the Eastern churches and early Christians confirmed babies, and that there’s no theoretical problem with it. He notes that some say it’s not too early to confirm two or three year olds, and that it’s okay to confirm before the age of reason or the seventh year for any urgent reason (such as the bishop heading out of his see for several years, or a kid being in danger of death, or anything else reasonable).
Here’s the interesting bit. A lot of people don’t seem to think that mentally or psychologically disabled Catholics should be confirmed.
Well, St. Alphonsus says that even those who are permanently insane (“amentes”) should be given Confirmation. He notes that this should definitely happen if they have the use of reason, but also if they don’t, “even if they will never battle spiritually, according to circumstance.”
He also says that Catholics have a “serious obligation” to receive Confirmation, if they can.
First of all, because it’s a serious injury to yourself to refuse to receive “great power” (magno robore) in the “wrestling match against temptation” (lucta tentationem), which is why the Sacrament was instituted.
Second, because Jesus commanded us to receive it. In Acts 1:4-5, Jesus warns the Apostles not to leave Jerusalem, because they were to “wait for the promise of the Father” and “be baptized with the Holy Spirit.” And again, in Acts 1:8, He reiterates right before the Ascension that they “shall receive the power of the Holy Spirit coming upon you….” Therefore, to refuse Confirmation is like refusing Jesus’ direct order and His Great Commission.
So you see Pope Urban saying that “All the faithful ought to” (debent) “receive the Holy Spirit after Baptism, by the imposition of the hands of the bishops, so that they may be found full Christians.”
If people can’t receive the Sacrament for reasons not their fault, or if they have been fooled into neglecting the Sacrament, obviously they can still be saved. But St. Thomas Aquinas says that it works toward the perfection of salvation — “as a horse helps someone travel, or as medicine helps one to live healthily.” He says that contempt for any Sacrament’s help is “dangerous.”
Obviously Confirmation comes with the gifts of the Holy Spirit. So neglecting to receive it is refusing God’s generosity of grace.
There’s also an interesting passage about how it used to be custom for confirmandi to keep wearing their linen headband for one day, three days, or a week, in order to keep the chrism cross on their foreheads for as long as possible. There are art pictures of confirmandi wearing headbands, and it really seems like it was a nice custom. (Plus the chrism must have smelled great.)
On the one hand, we allegedly have admissions of guilt by a TX Carmelite prioress and an NC priest serving as an MT Redemptorist monk, that they acted inappropriately over email and phone text.
On the other hand, I can’t see any way whatsoever that a man and a woman could get to the point of breaking vows of chastity or celibacy, without ever having traveled to the same city, let alone having been in touching distance of each other.
Sex is sex. Not-sex is not sex.
And there’s a fair amount of doubt that the woman’s health situation is such that she could commit fornication, at all, in any real sense. If you can’t wipe your butt by yourself (which is apparently the case for this woman, and has been for many years), how can you do anything to affect your virginity (by canon law standards)? I’m sure one could get up to no good in some way, but not in the particular way required.
Impurity of behavior and speech and writing, yes. Serious amounts of sin and stupidity, yes.
Actual breaking of vows, no.
You also have a situation where notoriously, a confessor or investigator has to distinguish between a person’s sense of having done wrong, and finding out how bad their actions actually were. That is difficult.
People confess all the time to things that they never did, or that they did in only the most peripheral sense. Police have to know this. Bishops have to know this.
People who have never had sex, and who are feeling guilty about something, are extremely prone to think that they’ve lost their virginity or engaged in an affair, when they haven’t done anything that amounted to such a thing (in a civic legal or canon law sense). Even a middle-aged woman who should know better could indulge in such maunderings under stress, especially if she’s been up to no good with a priest and knows she shouldn’t have.
And we also have a situation where someone was being questioned while “under the influence” of anesthesia and other prescribed drugs, right after a surgery when the body is exhausted, and without a lawyer or adviser present. By a bishop who’s a notorious hothead.
There are times when technicalities really do matter. Finding out if someone actually broke his or her vows, versus finding out that he or she has been really really imprudent while piling up a lot of venial (or even different mortal) sins, is a matter of this kind.
Obviously the bishop was provoked… but my point stands, that he should have dotted his i’s and crossed his t’s on such a matter. The more it makes you angry, the more you have to keep correct procedure.
I know, I know, easy for me to say. But that’s what a bishop is supposed to be trained to do — to watch out for everyone’s interests, and to be a prudent leader.
So what we have here, apparently, is “imprudent letters” (and phonecalls), which would normally be a matter for being demoted within a religious order, and for serious penance, but not for throwing somebody out. There’s also causing scandal (ie, the man and woman causing each other to stumble); but again that’s normally not something that gets you thrown out of an order. And of course it’s a warning against having “particular friends,” which was not originally a phrase used about just liking your buddies.
The other problem is sacrilege. Churches, priests, and religious are all consecrated to God, so doing bad stuff in those areas and to those people is sacrilegious. (However, cloisters and monasteries don’t count, because they are primarily human living spaces. And there’s a pretty funny list in Liguori of places around churches that don’t count for sacrilege or sin if you’re married to each other, because marital date night in a village has some practical difficulties.)
Religious doing it together is double sacrilege, and one convincing another to commit sacrilege is more sacrilege. But again, physical acts have to occur for it to rise to that scale. There has to be groping or worse. OTOH, sitting around in a physical church in a habit or vestments, and thinking bad thoughts on purpose, is a sacrilege; and so is celebrating Mass while thinking bad thoughts on purpose, or not having gone to Confession for mortal sins. (We don’t know if they did this or not.)
The bigger scandal issues — well, did other people know about this? In both orders? In other dioceses? Or did nobody know about this until the bishop made a big open fuss? Did anyone try to stop it, if they knew? Would it have been better to keep things quiet, or was ripping off the veil of secrecy the correct thing?
(Beyond that, there’s a whole different question about whether somebody in the Carmelites was selling CBD merchandise. Was it legal? Was it prudent? Who knew about it? And why do the pictures of the merchandise show it looking like a tornado went through it, rather than being stacked on shelves or in boxes? Why were pictures leaked? Were they real or a hoax?)
I don’t want to downplay the seriousness of this. Obviously a cloister needs to be kept clean of reputation and safe. Purity of behavior is part of a nun’s job. (And a monk’s job too.)
But OTOH, this isn’t a case (apparently) where people were physically sleeping around. On the medieval scale of nuns or priests behaving badly, this ranks pretty low. (Except for the sacrilege thing.)
I suspect that the real issue is that the priest in question was viewed as having a lot of sanctity for how he dealt with health problems, and the nun for how she dealt with her disability. Most people don’t think of severely disabled people in wheelchairs as sexual beings, so that made the issue of endangering a priest or nun’s chastity even more distressing. I’m sure the bishop was shocked. Heck, everybody’s shocked.
But that’s exactly when you have to be fair and prudent. That’s what procedures are for. When emotions are running high, you check every detail.
* Re: texting or talking or emailing smutty conversations and roleplaying – St. Alphonsus calls it “turpia,” shameful things. Basically, if people are taking it lightly, saying or reading things out of curiosity or as a joke, it’s venial sin. But people doing it with “delectation,” on purpose to excite themselves, are committing a mortal sin (although maybe not if they’re married to each other, and don’t mean anything bad — though they still shouldn’t). To speak of these things around kids, or to kids, is a worsening of the sin.
But there are a lot of mortal sins out there, that don’t amount to getting thrown out of a religious order, and reading or writing turpia is one of those, even when it rises to mortal sin and maybe sacrilege.
We once had a pope (Pius II, aka Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini) who wrote an entire novel full of turpia (Historia de Duobus Amantibus), before he amended his life, and became a priest and bishop. He was a picture of virtue once he was named pope, and he supported and canonized St. Catherine of Siena, his fellow Siena citizen.
So… yeah, there has to be room for amendment of lives. Lower the boom in disciplinary ways, as long as the person isn’t dangerous or criminal. Keep the person away from trouble, instead of throwing them into the world to find more trouble.
UPDATE: Reason and Theology has an audiotape deposition. I cannot make out the nun’s responses, which makes it difficult; and honestly the bishop sounding “gentle” is the specific tone that raises hair on my arms, ugh. But I will make it all the way through, somehow. Apparently there was some kind of admission of in person interaction, but I couldn’t hear it and I did not hear it narrowed down.
Please use better microphones if you are taking evidence, and please do not ask a question and then answer it yourself.
The recent movie that purports to be about Indiana Jones includes (spoilers) a trip to the Roman siege of Syracuse, Sicily, when a Roman soldier notoriously killed Archimedes for not obeying him quickly enough.
This was deplored by Rome’s historians, because they wanted Archimedes’ war machines, as well as a prestigious prisoner. So the story was supposed to show the dangers of using brute force alone, without thinking.
In the movie, the female “modern woman” character (who is quite middle-aged, although supposedly young and brash) repeatedly uses force against Indiana Jones to get what she wants. She even beats him unconscious during the siege of Syracuse.
Harrison Ford in real life is two years older than Archimedes was, when Archimedes was killed. So that isn’t a nasty swipe at all.
A heroine or hero does not use brute force alone, and does not treat other people like slaves.
Actually, yes. There’s a freakily expensive trio of products that you can buy at TansanUSA.com. They call it “soda spray” and talk about “micro carbonic technology.”
But I recognize the packaging as being the same as what some of the Osaka “head spa” people use, on the videos on Twix ASMR.
So… yeah, this stuff just gets weirder, if it turns out that it’s sparkling soda water of some kind.
Or, excuse me, “naturally carbonated healing mineral spring water” with “microscopic carbonated bubbles” from a “certified natural spring water onsen in Japan.”
So… there’s tansan made from baking soda mixed with water, and then there’s tansan made from sparkling mineral water.
Or you could just buy soda water, and shake it up really well. I bet that it really would clean your scalp.
I knew I’d seen “thema” before I read it in the 32 Sermons. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.
The sequence “Lauda Sion,” which was written by St. Thomas Aquinas, follows the format of a “sermo modernus” style of sermon. Except it’s short, and it rhymes.
Hahahahaha! That is hilarious!!!
Okay, so first there’s the prologue/prothema bit, which is the first two verses. St. Thomas is speaking directly to the audience, which is the Church entire, aka Zion.:
Lauda Sion salvatorem (O Zion, praise the Savior,)
Lauda ducem et pastorem (Praise the Warleader and Shepherd,)
In hymnis et canticis (In hymns and canticles.)
Quantum potes, tantum aude, (As much as you can, dare that much!)
Quia major omni laude (Because He is greater than all praise,)
Nec laudare sufficis. (Nor are you adequate to praise [Him].)
And then there’s the announcement of the theme and its division, which is said the exact same way as in any normal sermon:
Laudis thema specialis, (A special theme of praise)
Panis vivus et vitális, (The LIVING and LIFEGIVING BREAD)
Hódie propónitur. (Is proposed today.)
So then there’s a bit more prologue material:
Quem in sacræ mensa cœnæ, (He Whom, on the Table of the Holy Supper,)
Turbæ fratrum duodénæ (The Cloud of Brothers, the Twelve,)
Datum non ambígitur. (Were given, it is not doubted.)
Sit laus plena, sit sonóra, (Let praise be full, let it be sonorous;)
Sit jucúnda, sit decóra (Let it be merry, let it be fittingly beautiful,)
Mentis jubilátio. (The jubilation of the mind.)
Dies enim solémnis ágitur, (Be stirred up, therefore, on this solemn day)
In qua mensæ prima recólitur (Upon which the First Time of this table is re-contemplated,)
Hujus institútio. (His institution of this [Eucharist].)
Then we go on to Aquinas preaching about the Eucharist, with everything outlined under the headings Panis and Vivus and Vitalis.
I dimly understood this sequence as being like a sermon, but it really is one! Ha!
This poem is possibly the least well-understood in the Old Irish corpus.
It’s a poem about a pocket psalter, duh.
The poet used the psalter as his reading book when he was a kid, and he kept it with him at all times when not singing with it, even sleeping with it (possibly using his bookbag as a pillow or stuffed animal). We know that young monks took their little psalters with them everywhere, in bags hung on their belts.
When he got done with using it, and went onto higher learning after memorizing the psalter, it was passed along to other monks or students.
Its “face” — ie, its book cover — darkened from use and from constant touching by grubby boy hands. Obviously old Irish humans do not have dark faces; rather, they get paler.
So now the grubby but well-loved old book comes back to him, and he writes a poem about it. And yes, the fame of the Psalms, and the Psalms themselves, have traveled down every road in the world; and their wisdom (and their singing every day, in the Office) leads people to Heaven.
James Carney argued for this interpretation, and I’ve always thought he was correct. The poem just has that “riddle” or “joke” feel to it.
Look… it’s not usual to praise an early Irish woman for being of “melodious song,” because it was unusual to have a bad singing voice. Praising women for melodious talking was more normal. It was harps that got praised for melodious song.
And nobody would name a girl “Crinog.” The word “crine” means “withered, decrepit, dried up, crumbled, decayed” and “ar crine” means “in old age.” The variant form “crion” means the same thing. “-Og” literally means “young” or “young one,” but it’s used as a diminutive form of endearment. So Crinog means something like “the little old lady” or (in this case) “the little yellowed old book” or “the little book that’s falling apart.”
Alfred Perceval Graves translation:
Crinog of melodious song, No longer young, but bashful-eyed, As when we roved Niall’s Northern Land, Hand in hand, or side by side.
Peerless maid, whose looks ran o’er With the lovely lore of Heaven, By whom I slept in dreamless joy, A gentle boy of summers seven.
We dwelt in Banva’s broad domain, Without one stain of soul or sense; While still mine eye flashed forth on thee Affection free of all offence.
To meet thy counsel quick and just, Our faithful trust responsive springs; Better thy wisdom’s searching force Than any smooth discourse with kings.
In sinless sisterhood with men, Four times since then, hast thou been bound, Yet not one rumour of ill-fame Against thy name has travelled round.
At last, their weary wanderings o’er, To me once more thy footsteps tend; The gloom of age makes dark thy face, Thy life of grace draws near its end.
O, faultless one and very dear, Unstinted welcome here is thine. Hell’s haunting dread I ne’er shall feel, So thou be kneeling at my side.
Thy blessed fame shall ever bide, For far and wide thy feet have trod. Could we their saintly track pursue, We yet should view the Living God.
You leave a pattern and bequest To all who rest upon the earth— A life-long lesson to declare Of earnest prayer the precious worth.
God grant us peace and joyful love! And may the countenance of Heaven’s King Beam on us when we leave behind Our bodies blind and withering.
Literal translation by Kuno Meyer:
Crinog, melodious is your song.Though young no more you are still bashful. We two grew up together in Niall’s northern land, When we used to sleep together in tranquil slumber.
That was my age when you slept with me, O peerless lady of pleasant wisdom: A pure-hearted youth, lovely without a flaw, A gentle boy of seven sweet years.
We lived in the great world of Banva* Without sullying soul or body, My flashing eye full of love for you, Like a poor innocent untempted by evil.
Your just counsel is ever ready, Wherever we are we seek it: To love your penetrating wisdom is better Than glib discourse with a king.
Since then you have slept with four men after me, Without folly or falling away: I know, I hear it on all sides, You are pure, without sin from man.
At last, after weary wanderings, You have come to me again, Darkness of age has settled on your face: Sinless your life draws near its end.
You are still dear to me, faultless one,You shall have welcome from me without stint; You will not let us be drowned in torment: We will earnestly practise devotion with you.
The lasting world is full of your fame, Far and wide you have wandered on every track: If every day we followed your ways, We should come safe into the presence of dread God.
You leave an example and a bequest To every one in this world,You have taught us by your life: Earnest prayer to God is no fallacy.
Then may God grant us peace and happiness! May the countenance of the King Shine brightly upon us When we leave behind us our withered bodies.
*Banva – phonetic spelling of Banba, which is both the name of a goddess and a poetic name for Ireland.
Original Old Irish, as transcribed by Kuno Meyer:
An Crinog.
1 A Chrīnōc, cubāid do cheōl: cen co bat fīrōc, at fīal: romōsam tūaid i tīr Neill tan dorōmsan feiss rēid rīam.
2 Rob hī āes tan rofōis lemm a ben diatā in gāes grinn, daltān clīabglan cōem nad chamm, maccān mall secht mblīadan mbinn.
3 Bāmar for bith Banba bailc cen ēilniud anma nā cuirp, mo lī lasrach lān dot seirc, amal geilt cen aslach uilc.
4 Erlam do chomairle chōir, dōig nos-togam-ne i cech tīr, is ferr rogrād dot gāeis gēir nā comrād rēid frisin rīg.
5 Rofōis fri cethrar īar sin im dīaid cen nach methlad mer, rofetur, is beōda in blad. at glan cen pheccad fri fer.
6 Fodeōid domrūachtais dorīs īar cūartaib scīs, gleō co ngāeis, do dechaid temel tart gnūis. cen drūis is dered dot āeis.
7 At inmain lem-sa cen locht, rotbīa mo chen-sa cen cacht, ni lēicfe ar mbādud i pēin, fogabam crābud lēir lat.
8 Lān dot labrad in bith būan, adbal do rith tar cach rīan, dia seichmis cech dīa do dān, roseismis slān co Dīa ndīan.
9 Dobeir do thimna in tōi do chāch co himda ar bith chē, sīthlai dūin uile i cech lō, nī gō guide dīchra Dē.
There may be some concealed puns in the poem. The word translated above as “bashful” is “fial,” which means either “decorous and modest of behavior, honorable and noble, faithful” (used for both men and women – modern meaning is ‘generous’); or “kin, related”; or is a word for “veil, curtain, Latin velum.” But parchment in Latin is “vellum,” and a psalter would be written in Latin.
“Cubaid” means “harmonious, in agreement, fitting.” But it also means “cubit.” A pocket psalter would fit in the palm of the hand, and all the parchment used would be probably less than a cubit’s length and width before being cut or folded. So maybe it would be “a cubit of music.”
I expect that there are other monkish wordplays that zip right over our heads.
Carney has a slightly different transcription. His translation leans even harder into the female imagery, which no doubt torques off those who don’t like his riddle solution. And hoboy, very few people like it. Heh!
Unfortunately, I can’t find Eigse IV (1944) on the Internet, so I can’t read Carney’s article about the poem.
There’s going to be an EARLY MUSIC HARP CONCERT of SCOTTISH WOMEN’S SONGS on Thursday June 8, as part of the Fringe of the Boston Early Music Festival. And this guy is a very good harper and tenor, so you will not regret it!!! I wish I lived close enough!!!!!
Okay, it’s 20 bucks, but that seems pretty cheap for a high-level art concert with a really good musician.
I think you can only get the physical CD from this guy’s website (or at his concerts, probably), but you can buy the MP3s at Amazon, Apple, etc., and I think it’s on Spotify.
He did a concert at Walsingham once, which is also pretty darned cool.
Anyway… it turns out that the famous tune “The White Cockade” has a famous Gaelic poem that came first, and which was actually written by a fairly famous poet. So it’s really called “An Suaithneas Ban.” Popular Tales of the West Highlands quotes a couple of stanzas in Volume IV, and Ruff has the whole thing on his album.
Aliens in This World 