It's full of allegory, but did they realize......

All month we've been hearing about the Christian allegory in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, the new movie based on the children's novel by Christian apologist C.S. Lewis, how many of the evangelical churches have been encouraging their members to see the show, and how evangelical spokesmen have been whining about the attention Hollywood has been paying to Brokeback Mountain whilst ignoring Narnia. Finally, we decided to go see the movie today to form our own opinions and see what all the fuss is about.

Note to parents: This is not an appropriate movie for young children! It is very scary in some spots, one child character is kidnapped and put in bondage, a child is physically struck by the evil character as a means of punishment, there is a prolonged, graphic battle scene, and there are several graphic killings. I would not take any child under eight and I would urge you to use your discretion to consider how sensitive your eight- to ten-year-old child may be.

Narnia is in wide-release, with many theaters showing the film on multiple screens; our auditorium was barely one-quarter full, and there was a predominantly middle aged and older audience with a handful of young children. It's a shame that the evangelicals have conscripted this movie, because I'm sure a lot of the potential audience for the film will stay away because of the Christian cult associations. As an interesting bit of trivia for the evangelicals, the actor portraying Edmond, Skandar Keynes, is the great-great-great-grandson of Charles Darwin.

If you go see Narnia just for its entertainment value, it's not really that bad of a movie. There is a lot of fantasy and battle, and the special effects are generally very good. None of the actors in the cast are known stars, yet they all do an adequate job of portraying their characters (the three "known" actors provide only animal voices: Liam Neeson as Aslan, Rupert Everett as the Fox, and Dawn French (The Vicar of Dibley) as Mrs. Beaver). In many instances, the film reminded me of an elaborate video game which might be played by younger teenagers, and a lot of the plot strongly resembles the stories of Lewis's contemporary at Oxford, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings trilogy (and the recent motion picture versions). But Oscar worthy? No. It's still a good movie, though.

I've never been a big fan of Lewis, especially since I used to socialize with a lady who did her doctoral dissertation on Lewis and talked about him incessantly. I've never read the book on which this movie is based, so this analysis is based solely on the movie, not the plot details which may have been included in the book. The plot is simple. Four British siblings are sent to live in a country house during the London bombings in World War II. In the new house, they discover a wardrobe (or what we might call an "armoire," a big piece of furniture for storing clothing) in an upstairs bedroom that some how magically leads to the mystical and magic land of Narnia, which is populated with all sorts of mythological creatures and talking animals. All is not well in Narnia, though, as their benevolent god-leader, the lion Aslan, has been driven out of the land for the past one hundred years by the evil White Witch, Jadis. The arrival of the four human children, however, inspires Aslan's return because of a prophecy that four humans would help defeat the powers of evil and return happiness to the land of Narnia.

The story line sets up the classic battle between good and evil, though I think the allegory here is a little odd for Christians, since the good guys are dependent upon magic and potions to achieve their victory. There is a rather lame Christ-like self-sacrifice by Aslan for the greater good. Otherwise, I found no strong Christian message, and any number of allegorical meanings can be thought up to fit this script. Perhaps things are clearer in the book, but I missed the sermon in the movie.

In this allegorical vacuum, one thing that jumped out at me to my great surprise is the high degree of homoerotic imagery and allegory in this film.

First of all, the eldest of the four children is a tall, slender, blond-haired, blue-eyed, sixteen- or seventeen-year-old boy with a ruddy flush to his cheeks and a soft British accent, the quintessential sexual interest of ephebophilic British academics like Lewis. His name is Peter (at least it's not Lance or Rod or something), and when the four children assume their thrones as kings and queens of Narnia, he is crowned King Peter the Magnificent. He has a long, broad, shiny sword that he likes to pull out and hold a lot and which he received as a gift from an older, bearded man, representing both Santa Claus and a sugar daddy, who taught him how to use it. And further, Peter the Magnificent rides into battle atop a white unicorn; between the unicorn's horn and Peter's sword, there is double phallic imagery and the two phalli, representing the phalli of a homosexual couple, are needed to vanquish (with the help of extra magic from others) the evil female witch. In several scenes, he reminded me of the blond Colin Farrell in the gay movie, Alexander, riding around playing army commander. Late in the movie, we see the children all grown up, with the very adult and bearded Peter having no wife or girlfriend, and just happily hanging out with his sisters; clearly Peter has chosen a homosexual lifestyle and is very content and successful with it.

Peter's younger brother, Edmond, is about twelve to fourteen years old and has dark brown hair and the most gorgeous big brown eyes. Edmond is constantly admonished to follow The Way of his elder brother, but he rebels and aligns himself with the evil female. The evil witch just uses Edmond for what he can give her, giving him a little "Turkish delight" as a reward for his good behaviors, then puts him in chains in a dungeon after she has slapped the crap out of his face, meaning that those boys who go after women will fall into the evil ways of BDSM culture and become beaten-bloody submissives. Two supporting characters attempt to help Edmond return to The Way of his brother; he betrays them both, though, trying to gain the affections and approval of the evil female, and in both cases the evil female turns the good guy into stone. When Edmond finally turns away from the evil female to join The Way of his brother, she gets her revenge by running him through with a spear, teaching us of the treachery of women and the superior homosexual path of The Way.

Jadis the White Witch has really bad hair, reminding us of the social unsuitability of anyone with bad hair. She wears a lot of big dresses which would be the envy of any drag queen, and she is surrounded by attendants who are bears and trolls. And, once the evil White Witch is vanquished, all of her minions and bad guys disappear, giving us another message about her kind of culture, how worshipping a witch/female as a queen is wrong, and the goodness and superiority of The Way.

The two sisters represent two present-but-unneeded female archetypes in homosexual culture. Big sister Susan has become "boring" according to her siblings and is an unadventurous nag, just like the age-appropriate, marriage-seeking females who would want to date a boy like Peter. Little sister Lucy is a chubby, fun-loving girl who encourages her brothers to do things and go places, always wanting to tag along, representing the archetypal "fag hag."

Far-fetched? Unintentional? Gay propaganda? Consider these things:

—Lewis was a lifelong academic at Oxford, and later Cambridge, during an era when discreet homosexuality and pederasty was common amongst the upper classes, especially in prep school and collegiate academic settings.
—Lewis formed a close friendship with a fellow soldier in World War I who was later killed in combat.
—Lewis invited his Army friend's mother to live with him and supported her until her death in 1951.
—Lewis was estranged from his father.
—Lewis had bouts of depression.
—Lewis went to an English public school (what we Americans would call a private boarding school or prep school) where he was extremely unathletic.
—Lewis did not marry until 1956 when he was 57 years old, wedding a divorced Jewish poetess said to be his intellectual equal who fascinated him on an professional level.
—He admitted to having married solely so that his wife could stay in England and not have to return to her country.
—His wife soon became mortally ill with bone cancer, and it would be reasonable to assume that they would have had a limited sex life because of her illness.
—Several Lewis biographers report that while Lewis and his wife loved one another very much, the relationship was platonic.
—After his wife's 1960 death, he did not remarry and lived with his elder brother until his death.
—As a child, Lewis loved Beatrice Potter stories because they featured "dressed animals," and wrote and illustrated his own animal stories.
—Anglican Christians in the early 20th century did not manifest the great hatred of homosexuals currently seen amongst American evangelical Christians.

While there is no proof of Lewis being a homosexual or committing homosexual acts, there is ample circumstantial evidence which points out the strong possibility of a potential homosexual psychological orientation, especially when viewed as a whole. I submit, therefore, that veiled homosexual messages are just as probable in Narnia as the more openly-discussed Christian messages, and that while Lewis may have intended an overt Christian message, he also may have included a major subtext glorifying pederasty and homosexuality.

So, rather than being a great Christian movie, I'm afraid we're going to have to explain to all the evangelicals that this movie is merely another Hollywood glorification of homosexuality and the Gay Agenda.

Happy Hanukkah!

Happy Hanukkah!

We lit our menorrah for the first night of Hanukkah last night. Now I'm waiting for my eight days of presents.

Sometimes I think when the early Christians split away from Judaism they got confused: they allowed for only one day of gift giving at Christmas instead of eight at Hanukkah and they expanded the one day of fasting and atonement of Yom Kippur into the forty days of denial in Lent. Even in religion, the Christians have to buy at retail!

Christmas greetings

Good Christmas morning!

I hope all of the Evangelical Christians-when-convenient from those megachurches that decided to cancel Sunday morning services today so as not to inconvenience their members by having to worship on the Lord's Day are having a good time opening presents, engaging in conspicuous consumption and gluttony, and taking down their "holiday" trees which have been up since Thanksgiving.

Meanwhile, this is the First Day of Christmas, and we are beginning a twelve day period of celebration and Christmas parties.

Midnight Mass

Merry Christmas!

We've just returned from the Cathedral Church of Saints Peter and Paul in the City of Washington (the National Cathedral), where my friend Joel and I went to Midnight Mass. The service was unusally entertaining tonight because after the sermon, some man up in the south transept starting yelling about something (we couldn't really understand him), and he had to be bodily escorted out of the cathedral by a herd of ushers, yammering all the way. Don't know if he was a political activist of some kind or just mentally ill. The bishop, who was the principal celebrant, continued on with the Nicene Creed as the man was yelling his way out the door.

Since the cathedral doors opened at 9 for the 10 p.m. service, we wanted to be nearby to be able to get a good seat, so we sought out a neighborhood restaurant for a leisurely pre-church dinner. The only thing we could find open was Cactus Cantina, but that worked out just fine, since Cactus Cantina gave us a chance to have tamales, a big Christmas Eve tradition in Mexico (not that either of us are Mexican, but you know how I like to have an excuse for eating something). The tamales were very interesting, as they had jalapeño peppers mixed in with the corn meal masa that surrounded the pork filling.


Altar boys lining up for the processional

Our tickets got us in to the "general admission" section of the nave, which was the side aisles (no direct view of the altar other than via the flat panel tv screens on each of the pillars) and the back half of the nave (clear but distant view). We ended up about three-quarters of the way back in the nave; had I known we've be so far away, I'd have brought my opera glasses. The lady next to us, who got the aisle chair, said they'd been waiting in line outside the cathedral for over an hour before the doors opened to be able to get their seat. I really do need to find out how the people in the "reserved" section in the front half of the nave and in the transepts got their tickets so I'll know for next year; this is a very big church which is quite long and narrow—they say you can lay the Washington Monument down the center aisle—and I do prefer to sit much closer to the front. Must be all those decades of sitting in the choir where I was in the middle of the action.

Fashions were limited tonight. A lot of the men were in just regular church-going suits (no formal wear as one sees on the television at the Vatican midnight mass) and the women kept on their overcoats so it was hard to see what they wore. Probably half of the congregation was rather unfortunately very casually attired, though, and not only did I see a lot of blue jeans in church, but there were people in t-shirts and sports team jackets. Appalling.

The prelude from 9:00 to 9:30 was rung on the carillon up in the west tower. From 9:30 to 10:00, the cathedral organists played all French repertoire on the great organ. After a brief welcome from the dean, the Cathedral Choir of Men and Boys sang "Ding dong! merrily on high," arranged by Charles Wood, from the back of the nave as an introit, and then the huge procession of official participants (probably over 100) began as the congregation sang "O come, all ye faithful." The procession was quite a production with all the altar boys, the thurifer and boat girl, four sets of crucifers and torchbearers, half a dozen banner carriers, about twenty assisting clergy, a couple of dozen chalicers, all the men and boys of the choir with the choirmaster, the concelebrants, and the bishop in his pointy hat had his own phalanx of four torchbearers boxed around him.

Other choral anthems included the "Sans Day Carol" (Now the holly bears a berry) arranged by John Rutter for the offertory and during communion they did "Tomorrow shall be my dancing day" arranged by David Willcocks and "Sing lullaby" by Herbert Howells. Other congregational hymns included "O little town of Bethlehem" (sung to Forest Green) as the sequence, "Angels from the realms of glory" at the presentation, "The first nowell" and "Away in a manger" during communion, "Silent Night" during the ablutions, and "Hark! the herald angels sing" for the recessional. The mass setting was by William Mathias and definitely not one known by the congregation; the Sursum Corda and other parts of the eucharistic prayer were not sung. The Anglican chant for the Psalm was by Thalben-Ball. Instead of placing the choir in their usual places in the choir stalls, they'd set up risers and chairs on the chancel steps behind the altar, on either side of the aisle leading to the chancel.

Everyone was provided with a souvenir program with the text of the entire Rite 2 service (except for the sermon and the yelling man), anthem words, and music for the hymns; the cover was printed in gold metallic ink. I noticed on many occasions that the printed text did not match the spoken text; it appeared that the female liturgist of the cathedral had written a number of things in "inclusive language" (avoiding referring to God with the masculine pronoun, substituting the word "God" for "Lord," and other such silliness) but none of the speakers (or the choir for that matter) used the inclusive language versions. The Prayers of the People especially had little resemblance to the printed version, and instead of having the congregation sing the standard "Lord, hear our prayer" response to each prayer, she included a rather long and unwieldy substitute—"Come now, O God of love, Reconcile your people and make us one body"—which got tiresome after the third or fourth petition. I also noticed that while there was incense in the processional and recessional, the bishop did not incense the altar during the Gloria or the Elements and the people during the offertory.


The altar and pulpit after the service

After the service, the organist did a thrilling improvisation on Antioch (Joy to the world) that was wonderfully dark and loud at the conclusion. Ah, the things one can do with a 186-rank pipe organ! During the postlude we fought our way up stream to get to the crossing so we could take some pictures. It was a lovely service and a lovely, "balmy," warm night outside. The service, which had started at 10 p.m., was over unexpectedly quickly; we were out of the cathedral by 11:30, even after all of our picture taking.


Joel and me after the service

Celebrating the solstice

Tonight I went to the Christmas Revels in Lisner Auditorium on the George Washington University campus. The Revels this year is called "Journey to the Northlands" (the cultures rotate annually) and is a celebration of Yuletide in the Scandanavian countries with traditions and customs dating back to pre-Christian Druidism and sun worship surrounding the winter solstice. A surprising number of our Christmas customs, including Yule logs, egg nog, evergreens in the house, candles, and decorating trees, come from pagan traditions of Druidism and northwestern European mythology.

It was interesting listening to some of the creation stories from Iceland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Finland and hearing others of the many traditional mythological tales from the area, many of which were told with heroic sized puppets. While there was a little bit of overt "Christmas content" in the show, most of it was more folk-traditional, so we saw not only mythology but a lot of the solstice traditions. They imported some excellent acrobatic dancers and several traditional folk musicians from Europe to round out the cast of over a hundred people. Several times they had cast members dancing in the aisles out in the house, and they were big on audience participation, asking them to waive their arms, clap their hands, or sing traditional songs.

It was a fun show. I wish my Finnish friend Henri had been here—he could have told me what was going on! If anyone is in D.C. this weekend, they are doing two shows tomorrow and one Sunday.

Another Advent concert

The Advent Wreath at St. Matthew's
(see the Cardinal's throne behind the pink candle?)



A Festival of Lessons and Carols for the Season of Advent
Cathedral of Saint Matthew the Apostle, Washington, District of Columbia


Opening hymn: "Once in Royal David's City" (congregation joining for third verse)

First Lesson: Genesis 3:9-15
Choir Carol: "Of the Father's Love Begotten," arranged by Thomas Howe

Second Lesson: Isaiah 40:1-8
Choir Carol: "Watchman, Tell Us of the Night," arranged by Christopher Bush

Third Lesson: Jeremiah 23:5-6
Hymn: "O Come, O Come Emmanuel"

Fourth Lesson: Zechariah 9:9-10
Choir Carol: "Lo in the Time Appointed," by Healey Willan

Fifth Lesson: Haggai 2:6-9
Choir Carol: "Come, My Way, My Truth, My Life," by Harold Friedell

Sixth Lesson: Isaiah 35:1-6
Hymn: "O Come, Divine Messiah"

Seventh Lesson: Isaiah 2:1-5
Choir Carol: "E'en So, Lord Jesus, Quickly Come" by Paul Manz

Eighth Lesson: Romans 8:28-39
Choir Carol: "Gabriel's Message," arranged by Gerard Chiusano

Gospel (Ninth Lesson): Luke 1:26-35, 38
Choir Carol: "Joys Seven," arranged by Stephen Cleobury

Hymn: "People, Look East"
(An organ postlude was played, but unidentified)

---

The High Altar at St. Matthew's


Last night I ventured out to hear the 32-voice Festival Singers (the special occasion volunteer group) at St. Matthew's Cathedral sing an Advent Lessons and Carols services, and what a pleasant and enjoyable surprise it was! There was a good audience as well, with the 850 seat nave comfortably occupied, though not packed in, and noone had to sit in the two big aisle chapels (another 400 seats or so).

When singing, the choir stood on the sanctuary steps in front of the altar, facing the congregation. All but the last two anthems were sung a capella, and they made a glorious sound in the extremely reverberant marble cathedral. I was quite impressed with the diction and pitch of this volunteer group, and they seemed quite responsive to the direction of conductor William Culverhouse.

The service opened à la King's College with an unaccompanied solo choir boy singing the first verse of "Once in Royal David's City," although they did this from the front rather than in procession. Where did they get this boy? He was wonderful, singing loudly and clearly, maintaining his pitch to match when the organ joined for the second verse with choir. While the solo boy was not credited in the program, it appears that he might be "Éamon Boylan, guest soloist." He also got to sing the introductory solo for the Cleobury "Joys Seven" at the end of the service.

Readers for the service included the D.C. Fire Chief and the Lieutenant Governor of the State of Maryland. They also played up the "ahh factor," with two little girls who were just precious. Officiant for the service was the rector of the cathedral, attired in a startlingly magenta cope.

The congregation seemed involved, though it was clear they only knew the first two hymns ("Once in Royal" and "O Come Emmanuel"), but didn't know at all the final two hymns ("O Come Divine Messiah" and "People Look East"), but such is the bane of post-Vatican II American Catholic music performance practice. They chose to sing only three verses of each hymn. The only thing I didn't like about the evening was a matter of staging: the choir was moved back and forth from their singing position in front of the altar to rows of seats on the left side of the sanctuary for every single song, and it seemed all we did was watch the choir walk. As the service was only an hour long, I would have kept the choir standing in place or else arranged risers or chairs for them in front of the altar, rather than move them around. The seminarian (who had some unfortunate mutton chop sideburns) serving as liturgical master of ceremonies kept the readers from mounting the full flight of steps to the pulpit until the choir was back in their chairs, which I thought was an unnecessary delay, but Catholic clergy are fond of mandatory "meditation" periods (dead space) during services, so perhaps he thought we were using the choir and reader walking times to say our rosaries or something instead of watching the movement.

More church

The organ boy and the long haired female cantoress were back at St. Stephen's this morning, but they were using the piano again instead of the organ. There was an article in the parish newsletter that says "the organ has failed. Large cracks in the pipe chests causing air to cipher into the pipes create a loud, constant drone." So, they are trying to raise a quick $814,000 for a new organ.

I actually liked the music situation better this morning, though, with the choir in the front of the nave to the right of the sanctuary instead of up in that organ loft over the left side of the sanctuary. The choir sounded much better than usual and the music seemed more "connected" to congregational worship. Hymns this morning were Truro, Veni Emmanuel, "The Lord is my light and my salvation," and King of Glory. The communion motet was a nice, crisp, a capella "Laetentur coeli" by William Byrd. I was also pleased that the cantoress actually knows how to pronounce church Latin; they did a Magnificat setting for the "Psalm" (I didn't know David wrote a gospel!), and she correctly sang the word "mah-nyee-fee-caht" instead of what I usually here from church choirs, "mag-nee-fee-caht."

Get out of jail free card

Well, I off and did it.

I went to the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception this morning for confession and the Mass commemorating the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and now I have my plenary indulgence erasing all of my potential time in purgatory (if such a place exists). It's like getting a papal Get Out of Jail Free card.



The Basilica is built in the Byzantine (eastern Roman empire) style, which means it has domes and lots of mosaics instead of gothic flying buttresses and stained glass windows, with a Romanesque feel, and it's said to be one of the ten largest churches in the world. Since construction was not begun until the 1920s, the architectural designs are interestingly modern. It's very pretty on the outside as you can see (and they even have their Christmas wreaths up!), and the inside is vast, impressive, and visually stunning.

This is a view of the crossing altar, flanked by huge floral sprays in blue and white (the "Marian" colors) flowers and with a large arrangement in front. The "permanent" altar is in the back of it under the marble canopy topped with a dome and a statue of the BVM.



While you can see some organ pipes in the crossing area, that's really the antiphonal set, as the bulk of the pipes are in the back balcony, where the console is located. This is a large instrument: it's a 210-rank, four-manual Moeller, and while it can certainly thunder, the unusually large size of the basilica still could use even more organ power (I like to be able to feel the walls and pews shake).



It's a good thing I showed up early today, intending to shop in the bookstore and in the giftshop down in the undercroft, because I had to stand in line for nearly an hour to go to confession, and they were running four confessionals simultaneously. I guess the priest thinks I've been bad, cause he assigned me three chapters of the Gospel according to St. John to read for my pennace!

The principal celebrant and homilist (a/k/a "preacher") for the noon Mass was His Excellency the Apostolic Nuncio to the United States (think "Vatican Ambassador" and very, very important), assisted by twelve concelebrating priests. Music was provided by the capable professional Shrine choir, which sounded particularly good with Gerald Near's "Agnus Dei" from Missa Orbis Factor, which was done as a motet whilst the eucharistic ministers were being communicated. They also sang Palestrina's "Ave Maria à 5 voce" for the post-hymn offertory anthem and Luca Marenzio's "Magnificat" for a communion anthem (which was rather too long given the use of a communion procession hymn between the Near and the Marenzio). My only criticism of the choir isn't really a criticism, just more of an observation and request, that they should try to sing some of their anthems without using microphones and loudspeakers; I would love to hear voices in the natural acoustic of the church. While the choral selections today were lovely, the hymns and service music were insipid in that unfortunate post-Vatican II American way. The cantor was a female who sang straight-tone and was quite good.

The musical highlight for me, though, was the postlude: Shrine organist Robert Grogan played Eugène Gigout's "Grand Choeur Dialogué," which was magnificent played on a 210-rank organ in such a huge and reverberant space. For those of you not familiar with French organ literature, this is a piece played in a room with two sets of organ pipes, typically one in front and one in back, and there is a call-and-answer "dialogue" between the sets of pipes, ending in a glorious cacaphony of organ sound.

I don't know who gets Mother Angelica and her Eternal Word religious broadcasting network, but the Mass today was filmed and broadcast by them. Did anyone see me on TV?


(a D.C. tourbook aerial photo)

The Immaculate Conception

Tomorrow, December 8, is the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a holy day of obligation in the Roman Catholic Church (and a public holiday in many Catholic countries) and an optional, but controversial, "minor feast" in the Anglican Communion. This year's observance is unusually important for active and lapsed Catholics, because the new pope is granting a plenary indulgence to all Catholics who go to Mass tomorrow, remitting their time in purgatory for all the sins they have committed in their entire life up to this point.

This brings up a number of religious issues for consideration and discussion, and, as always, the professor in me can't keep from explaining to my readers and to the public the historical background and the issues involved, which include:

Immaculate Conception

Papal infallibility

Indulgences

Purgatory

Let's start by explaining what is being celebrated tomorrow.

Immaculate Conception

Most non-liturgical Protestants I know have no clue what the Immaculation Conception observance is; most high church Anglicans and Episcopalians I know have a misconception as to exactly what is being celebrated on Immaculate Conception Day, thinking that this is the day when the Church commemorates when Mary was impregnated with the Baby Jesus and the idea of the Virgin Birth. This is not correct; they are confusing this feast with the Feast of the Incarnation, more commonly known today as the Feast of the Annunciation, generally celebrated on March 25. What this day commemorates is not the day of Jesus's conception, but the day of Mary's conception. Further, over the last millennium, the Catholic Church has developed the tradition that when Mary was conceived, by a miracle of God, she was born without Original Sin (that church doctrine dealing with Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden and their sin "staining" all humans thereafter) and her soul was "kept immaculate" by God.

Needless to say, a lot of the more "puritan" Protestants have a lot of trouble with this doctrine, attributing it to just more of the "Mariolatry" of "those Catholics," who they say aren't "real" Christians and who worship Mary as equal to God Himself. Of course, that opinion is just another example of Fundamentalist ignorance and propaganda, however well intended, since I don't know a single Catholic who worships Mary or thinks of her as co-equivalent to God or Jesus; Catholics like Mary because she is a fostering mother figure they can turn to for maternal consolation and to ask her to talk to her heavenly buddies Jesus and Yahweh on their behalf when they have special needs or problems.

Even amongst Catholics, though, the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception has been controversial throughout history, largely because, as the Protestants are quick to point out, there is no direct, overt, Biblical authority for the idea. Catholic scholars have stretched a bit and found what they believe is a biblical basis for the doctrine, but even in 1483 when Pope Sixtus IV created the holy day, he said that Catholics were free to believe or not believe that Mary was subject to Original Sin; that optional theology was reaffirmed by the 1545-1563 Council of Trent. In 1854, though, Pope Pius IX solemnly defined the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, exercising his papal powers of infallibility, and now the Immaculate Conception is a required belief in the Catholic Church.

Papal Infallibility

So, what's this "papal infallibility" thing? Now, if you ask well-informed Protestant laymen to explain the difference between Protestants and Catholics, usually one of the first things they put in their litany is a statement that Protestants don't believe in the infallibility of the pope/Bishop of Rome, and I have the distinct impression that they think popes walk around the Vatican followed by a legion of scribes who write down the Pope's every infallible word. Well, not every thing a pope says carries the weight of "infallibility." FIrst of all, such statements are limited to matters of faith or morals, and it has to be pretty clear that the pope is speaking offiicially and "ex cathedra" as pope and pastor of the universal Church.

"Infallible" statements actually happen quite rarely. For example, the recent controversial policy guidance on homosexual seminarians and priests does not carry the weight of an infallible papal statement. In fact, religious scholars can only agree that the doctrine of papal infallibility has been used twice: once for Immaculate Conception in 1854 and once in 1950 for the Assumption of Mary (the idea that Mary did not die but was bodily assumed straight into Heaven). Other groups of scholars, including the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faithful formerly headed by the present pope, have suggested that infallible statements have occurred an additional five times, and possibly more.

The whole concept of papal infallibility comes from the biblical authority of Jesus when he told his disciple Peter that Peter is the rock on which Jesus would build His Church. Peter became the first pope, and Peter's successors have assumed the same power and authority. The concept then evolved over the next two thousand years until the First Vatican Council of 1870, when it was formally defined as dogma. Not all Catholics accepted the new 1870 rule, and that was when the group now known as the "Old Catholic Church" split from Rome. Similarly, Protestants have disagreed with the doctrine. The doctrine's limited use to date, though, makes this all a tempest in a teapot.

Indulgences and Purgatory

A recent statement from the Vatican reads:

Pope Benedict XVI will grant the faithful a Plenary Indulgence for the forthcoming Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception (December 8, 2005). A plenary indulgence is the full remission of all temporal punishment (time spent in purgatory) due to sin in one's entire lifetime up to that point.....The Holy Father "has kindly granted the gift of Plenary Indulgence which may be obtained under the usual conditions (sacramental Confession, Eucharistic communion and prayer in keeping with the intentions of the Supreme Pontiff), with the soul completely removed from attachment to any form of sin, on the forthcoming Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, by the faithful if they participate in a sacred function in honor of the Virgin, or at least offer open testimony of Marian devotion before an image of Mary Immaculate exposed for public veneration, adding the recitation of the Our Father and of the Creed, and some invocation to the Virgin."

What in the world are they talking about?

Well, the Catholic Church over the centuries has developed the idea that sins have to be punished, purged, or purified before a person can enter into the glories of Heaven, and they do this in a place called Purgatory. Protestants reject this idea; in fact, Martin Luther forbade his followers to pray for the dead and the Church of England in 1571 published its "Thirty-Nine Articles," which stated in Article 22 that: "The Romish Doctrine concerning Purgatory, Pardons, Worshipping and Adoration, as well of Images as of Relics, and also Invocation of Saints, is a fond thing, vainly invented, and grounded upon no warranty of Scripture, but rather repugnant to the Word of God." Tied in with all of this is the difference between rules for Eternal Salvation between Protestants, who believe that Man is "saved" by Faith alone, and Catholics, who believe that both Faith and Good Works are required.

The whole thing is still rather controversial. Let me pose an example. Imagine that instead of committing suicide, Adolf Hitler was stricken with a sudden, quick, mortal illness. A devout Christian (let's not pick a denomination) cares for Hitler during his illness and convinces him to convert to Christianity. With a fully contrite heart, Hitler admits his sins and asks for God's forgiveness, genuinely accepts the Christian faith, is baptized by a clergyman, and then immediately dies. Does Hitler go to Heaven? Or does he have to spend time in Purgatory?

Now, if you are a Protestant, you must accept that he is there in Heaven, waiting for you when you get there, because Jesus died for our sins, and Hitler genuinely became a Christian. All of Hitler's sins, including the murder of all those ten million-plus Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, and dissidents, have been washed clean by Jesus's blood. If you are Catholic, because Hitler confessed his sins, accepted the faith, was baptized, and died before he could commit any more sins, he cannot go to Hell, so he will be in Purgatory, where his shortcomings will be purged and purified, although the volume of Hitler's sins may mean he spends a little longer in Purgatory than, say, your saintly great-grandmother. If you want, you can even say prayers or ask a priest to say a Mass for Hitler's soul and use those indulgences to shorten his time in Purgatory.

Interesting dilemma of faith, eh? But it brings up another interesting concept, that of indulgences.

Indulgences certainly have not been without their controversy; in fact, indulgences were one of the primary problems with the Catholic Church cited by Martin Luther in 1517 in sparking the Protestant Reformation when he wrote his "95 Theses," also titled by him the Disputation of Doctor Martin Luther on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences. Now, giving indulgences for prayers and Masses really wasn't that big of a deal, but in the late medieval/early Renaissance Church, indulgences had become one of the primary fund raising techniques of the Church to pay for Crusades, cathedral construction, and other such costs; it allowed the rich to buy their way into Heaven.

Officially, though, an indulgence is the remission of the temporal punishment due to God for sin, and it should be clarified that indulgences do not "forgive" sins; the Catholic must first go to confession and be absolved by the priest. Indulgences merely use the merits and good works of the saints stored up in the Church's treasury to remove or remit all or part of the "penalty" for sins, thus eliminating or shortening the time a soul must spend in Purgatory. We can see similar parallels in modern criminal jurisprudence when a criminal confesses his crime and shows remorse before trial, in exchange for which a prosecutor agrees to a deferred sentence or a plea-bargained lesser charge and to the payment of a fine or a minimal jail term: the criminal is forgiven, but must still pay a penalty.

So, the papal decree for Immaculate Conception Day 2005 says go to confession, go to Mass tomorrow, and all of your Purgatory time for everything you have done up until tomorrow will be wiped away.

I find that interesting. Is this a chink in the purgatorial armor? After all, one of the quieter changes in the Church right now is that they are getting ready to announce the end of their doctrine of Limbo—that state between Heaven and Hell—for unbaptized babies and aborted fetuses, letting them all go to Heaven. But that's a topic for another post.

Happy Saint Nicholas's Day!!

St. Nicholas of Myra
16th century Russian icon


Happy Saint Nicholas's Day!

This is the day that Christians all over the world commemorate the life and work of Saint Nicholas of Myra, a Turkish bishop who lived between 270 and about 343 A.D. and was known for giving a lot of secret charitable gifts to the needy. December 6 is the traditional date of his death, although many scholars feel the date was selected because it is also the birthdate of the Roman goddess of the hunt, Diana (equivalent to the Greek Artemis), who was one of the principally worshipped pagan deities in Asia Minor (modern day Turkey).

St. Nicholas is the inspiration for the secular American tradition of Santa Claus, a term which comes from the Dutch "Sinterklaas," a contraction of "Sint-Nikolaas." In many countries, this is the day when presents are brought and given to chilidren, rather than on Christmas Eve, and common gifts are marzipan fruit, chocolate cigarettes and coins, and gingerbread cookies. After the Protestant Reformation, Martin Luther didn't want children to deal with a saint, though, so he created the tradition of Christmas Eve visits by the Christ Child, or the "Christkind" (and hence the German tradition of December Christkindl markets).

Sunday afternoon

Tis another Sunday afternoon, and surprisingly warm and sunny outside. I almost went to go hear Messiah, just like I almost went Friday night, but I haven't been feeling in the mood to sit though a long concert. The Cathedral Choir of Men and Boys at the National Cathedral are singing Messiah this weekend, and I kind of wanted to hear it for the novelty of the boys' voices instead of the women, but I also didn't want to spend $30-60 on a Messiah ticket! LOL Oh, well, it's not as if I can't hear Messiah this month: the Washington Post lists the cathedral, plus twenty other organizations doing Messiah this month, including the National Symphony and a "soulful" Duke Ellington-inspired interpretation of Handel.

Washington is rather an embarrassment of riches this month. Not only are there all the Messiahs going on, but there are 22 different productions of The Nutcracker in the area, with at least one performance every day through Christmas Eve plus six performances New Year's weekend, and at least half a dozen theater companies producing some version of A Christmas Carol. That's not counting various Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, and "holiday" concerts advertised.

Went to church this morning at St. Stephen's. Their organist wasn't there, so some lady was playing the piano in the nave, and the young curly headed choir boy was cantoring and directing the tiny choir, which only sang a communion motet. They were attempting to do a lot of the mass setting a capella, but that really wasn't a success. There was some younger man (I would say that he looked like he might be retarded, but that would not be politically correct, so I won't say that) in the back of the congregation who was singing the responses really loudly, off-key, and in a falsetto voice that soared through the church.....I had a hard time not laughing.

Hung a wreath on the door (I don't know if the condo rules allow that or not) and set the Christmas tree cookie jar in the living room. I still haven't found my Advent wreaths yet....need to look for those before Advent is over! I think maybe I need to go shopping.