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.

Scotch drinking night

Tonight I found a penny, heads up, on the street. A little while later, I found a dollar bill on the sidewalk. Then by the Metro station, I found another heads-up penny. I'd say it was the luck o' the Irish, but tonight was Scottish night. There was a tartan kirking and dinner in honor of St. Andrew's Day tonight way down in Alexandria, Virginia, at the Church of St. Andrew and St. Margaret of Scotland, so I thought I'd pop in.

The church is one of those "Anglican" splinter groups from the Episcopal Church that uses the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, the 1940 Hymnal, the KJV Bible, and doesn't allow female clergy. Their facility is fairly new; it's a small church in the meetinghouse style with the choir and electronic organ rather awkwardly in the left rear of the nave.


Exterior view


The Sanctuary
(see the purple Scottish heather on the altar?)

St. Andrew's Day services have been a tradition in Alexandria for centuries. When the first Lord Mayor of the town was elected in 1761, the mayor and council toured the town in blue sashes and crosses in honor of St. Andrew's Day; later that evening, the Scotsmen of the town hosted a St. Andrew's Day ball, followed by bonfires.

Tonight's service was spoken Evening Prayer with a sermon and a special "kirking" or blessing of the clan tartans. Because of the parish's traditions and their use of the 1928 BCP and the 1940 Hymnal (they sang the "Amen"s!), it was like stepping into a time warp. My first clue was seeing two women wearing chapel caps—those little round, lace, doiley-like things women used to wear on their heads in church—and I immediately thought back to my early childhood and remembered when some of the girls forgot their chapel caps and had to bobby pin Kleenexes to their heads.

As much as these Anglican parishes try to be "conservative" and traditional, I'm always amused at some of their technical faux pas. The rector, who officiated tonight, was wearing a cassock, surplice, and hood, but with a red stole (eucharistic vestment) instead of the more-correct tippet or scarf. He also officiated from the center of the altar, rather than the old-style north end. When the readers finished reading the lessons and announced "Here endeth the lesson," most of the congregation responded with "Thanks be to God," which didn't enter the Episcopal service until 1979. And, in their calendar, they referred to their Sunday morning service as "Holy Eucharist," which under 1928 rules should have been called "Holy Communion."

While there was an organist and a small choir tonight, the hymns, psalms, and canticles were all done congregationally. They opted to do Anglican chant for the Magnificat and the Nunc dimittis as well as for the psalms. The congregation tonight wasn't familiar with the chants; I don't know how many people there tonight were Episcopalian and how many were visiting Presbyterians/"others," though, cause I also noticed a goodly number of people who sat rather than knelt for the prayers. The all-unison hymns were Lancashire for opening, Galilee for sermon, "Scotland the Brave" during the kirking, and Webb for the closing, and the three familiar hymn tunes all used non-standard words. A sole bagpiper played the opening and closing processions and the processions in and out of the tartan clan representatives. The choir did the Slumber Snot Song ("He watching over Israel" from Elijah) for an offertory, and I can say that they made a joyful noise unto the Lord.....

After the service, I lingered a bit trying to look "lost" and "visitorlike," as well as to listen to the piper play a postlude, before going downstairs to their undercroft parish hall for the dinner/reception. The priest shook my hand and said "good evening" back in the narthex, but otherwise, none of the people sitting around me or anyone else talked to me. Most everyone was dressed up tonight, and I saw a lot of tartan ties and maybe a dozen men in highland dress. Even the young boys were in their suits and blazers, but that's very Virginia Episcopalian/Anglican.

The food was potluck style with a big U-shaped table arrangement in the center of the room full of food, including a big pile of shrimp and cocktail sauce, ham, turkey, egg salad sandwich triangles, cheeses and crudités, and three or four different whole fish presentations. A side table had a big punch bowl surrounded with desserts, including shortbreads, scones, and American holiday candies. Another large side table held the booze, with at least ten different Scotch whiskeys, a couple of bottles of gin, some Spanish cava, and some cheap California wine (none of which I drank). I heard that some judge who's a member of the parish had brought cigars and cognac for the gentlemen, but I never did see where they were. I stood around for about ten to fifteen minutes nibbling on fish, cheese, and scones (I couldn't find the Scotch eggs or the advertised haggis), but there was no one there I knew and nobody was talking to me except for one women who'd backed into me and said "excuse me" without looking at me.

So, I left.

Advent Lessons and Carols

Went to a packed Advent lessons and carols service tonight at St. Paul's K Street featuring their boys' choir and their full adult choir. For those interested, there will be a repeat performance (save with different readers) next Sunday evening for Advent II. Here's the line-up:

An Advent Procession with Lessons and Carols
Saint Paul's Episcopal Church, K Street, Washington, D.C.

Matin Responsory: G. P. da Palestrina, "Aspiciens a longe" (I look from afar)
Choral Hymn: Puer nobis nascitur, Veni Redemptor gentium (Come thou Redeemer of the Earth)
Invitatory Carol: Orlando Gibbons, "Hosanna to the son of David"

First Lesson: Zechariah 2:10—13
Carol: Philip Ledger, "Adam Lay Ybounden"
Hymn: 15th century French Franciscan Processional, Veni, veni, Emmanuel

Second Lesson: Isaiah 11:1—10
Motet: Gustav Schreck, "O how shall I receive Thee"
Hymn: Valet will ich der geben, O how shall I receive Thee

Third Lesson: Isaiah 40:1—8
Motet: Guillaume Dufay, "Ut queant laxis" (So that these your servants)
Hymn: Merton, Hark! A thrilling voice is sounding

Fourth Lesson: Baruch 4:36—5:9
Hymn: Wincester New, On Jordan's bank the Baptist's cry
Chorus: George F. Handel, "And the glory of the Lord" from Messiah
Anthem: Anton Bruckner, Ave Maria

Fifth Lesson: Luke 1:26—38
Hymn: Nova, nova, Gabriel of high degree
Motet: Albert Alain, Ave Maria

Sixth Lesson: Jeremiah 31:31—34
Hymn: Little Cornard, Hills of the north rejoice
Offertory Anthem: Jonathan Dove, "Seek him that maketh the seven stars"

Seventh Lesson: Revelation 21:5—7; 22:12—13, 20
Hymn: Wachet auf, Wake, awake for night is flying
Responsory: William McKie, "We wait for thy loving kindness, O God"
Hymn: Helmsley, Lo! He comes with clouds descending

Organ Voluntary: J.S. Bach, Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, BWV 661

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What a wonderful, inspirational evening to start the season of Advent! I loved hearing so many of the traditional Advent hymns and carols, and several of the anthems and motets were things I've sung for years, too.

I may go again next week just to hear the offertory anthem again—it was stunning, but very English contemporary (Dove is living and in his forties). Musically, the service should be a much better "performance" as well, since a few of the things sounded quite ragged and underrehearsed tonight, especially the Bruckner "Ave Maria." Of course, this is a parish that does a huge amount of music, with different full Mass settings and two anthems, plus an Evensong service and a different anthem, every Sunday, so I have to cut them some slack for these long special services. Anyway, if you're a musician and want to hear a lovely musical service (without being subjected to the usual barrage of "Living Christmas Trees" and contemporary pop Xmas carols), this is a perfect place to go on a Sunday evening.

This parish—one of the older and wealthier in the Diocese—has the most wonderful vestments and hangings! Instead of purple Advent togs that get recycled in Lent, they have a specific Advent set which are Sarum blue with red orphreys and gold metallic trim. I couldn't quite see the Advent wreath clearly enough to note whether they were using blue or purple candles (I did see the one pink one).

With all the parish choirs singing tonight, there was not enough room in the chancel to seat everyone, so they had the choir processing and standing in various places around the nave and chancel, starting with everyone in the narthex around the baptistry. At one point the men were all in the Angel Chapel, which gave their voices a lovely monastic sound. The Handel was done (in Victorian style, rather than period messa di voce) with everyone on the chancel steps and eventually by the time of the offertory anthem, the choirs were on the sanctuary steps with the boys in the stalls.

There was light incense in the opening procession and more incense for the recessional procession; the thurifer was even doing "around the worlds" on his way out tonight!

Those of you who may want to go hear the service next Sunday evening beware: St. Paul's is a very traditional, very high church parish, meaning the parishioners won't initiate conversations with you or be "friendly"; they believe that people come to church to worship, not socialize (or at least that's the excuse), so if you're used to warm welcomes and lots of chit-chat with strangers, don't expect that here. I've been popping in to this church several times a month since Epiphany (that's early January), and I'm just now getting the two priests to recognize me, but other than the ushers I've only had two people in the pews say anything at all to me (and I suspect they were visitors). It's also a dressy parish: men in suits are common, and I've never seen jeans or highly casual clothing here.

And, while I doubt it's anywhere near as crowded next weekend, I walked into the church about twenty minutes before the six o'clock start time, and the church was full! I'll remember that for next year......but, like I said, I doubt next Sunday will be as crowded, since so many people have already seen the service.

Vatican wisdom falls short

An Italian Catholic newspaper earlier today published the "officially leaked" version of the Vatican document on homosexuals in the priesthood set for release next week. As the document has been in draft for years and small leaks have been proliferating over the past couple of weeks, the contents come as no surprise.

What is a surprise, though, is how the highly educated gentlemen of the Vatican Curia can be so ignorant about biology, psychology, and human nature in the 21st century.

For those of you who haven't heard the details of the new homosexual priests policy, the Catholic Church is going to allow existing gay priests to continue in their priestly service. However, seminarians who 1) are actively gay, 2) have deep-seated homosexual tendencies, or 3) support gay culture will not be eligible for ordination to Holy Orders. Men who have "experimented" or had "transitory" homosexual "tendencies" can be ordained if they have been celibate for over three years and they have "clearly overcome" those "tendencies."

The new policy is fraught with problems as to interpretation and enforcement.

No one denies that homosexuals have been very competent and capable priests, bishops, and even popes over the two millennia of Catholic history, and noone denies that there are homosexuals currently serving as good priests, bishops, and even cardinal archbishops (some authorities estimate that as many as 40% of American priests are gay). Those homosexual clerics, just like the heterosexual ones, take vows of celibacy, and the vast majority of priests, gay and straight, abide by their vows.

The Church, though, is still reeling from pedophilia scandals in the United States, Canada, Ireland, Australia, and other countries, and many ill-informed cardinals are trying to lay the blame for the scandals at the feet of homosexual clergy.

Well, let me take a moment to explain my background: I have taught criminal justice at the university undergraduate and graduate level at two different schools, so I am not speaking as a "pro-gay" rabblerouser. We know from academic sociological research that pedophilia is a sexuality all to itself, and that the children victimized are selected primarily because of access and availability, not because of gender. The great majority of pedophiles are men who identify as heterosexual, not homosexual, and most of those men are married with children. We also know that pedophiles are not gender exclusive. They may molest a little girl today and a little boy tomorrow—it makes no difference to them because the object of their sexual desire is simply "child." Further, there are some scholars who suggest that pedophilia develops in men and women (women can be pedophiles, too; recall the current case of Debra Lafave and previous newsmaker Mary Kay Letourneau) because of sexually repressed atmospheres during their childhood and adolescence, while others suggest that a major factor in pedophilic behavior is a history of childhood incest or molestation.

We know certain things about the pedophiles and the Catholic priesthood. First, boys were not the only children molested; there are a lot of reports of girl victims, as well, and in reading Church case studies, school children of both genders often knew to avoid being alone with Father X. We also know that the incidence of priest-pedophiles is not widespread; we hear of huge numbers of victims, but we should note that an uncontrolled pedophile typically has dozens of victims (former Boston priest John Geoghan had at least 86 victims who sued the Archdiocese). Of the priest-pedophiles who have been caught, some identify as homosexual and some identify as heterosexual. And, while it hasn't made the headlines like the vast numbers of child victims, there are a few notorious priests who've made the rounds of the high school and college girls in what can only be thought of as less than consensual sexual contact, and still other priests engage in consensual adult homosexual and heterosexual actitivity in breach of their vows.

Contributing factors? Well, everyone immediately points to the Church's antiquated rule requiring clergy to take vows of celibacy. While celibacy contributes to the sexual oppression of priests' natural sex drives, it isn't really that big of a deal. The sexual oppression blame can be placed with Saint Paul, the Jewish convert to Christianity in the years after Jesus' death who decreed that all Christians should strive for celibacy, but those who were "weak" could marry and have sex, but solely for procreation, and only if they didn't enjoy it. Catholic parochial schools have certainly played their part in carrying on St. Paul's wish, though I think it's the girls who get the brunt of the antisex pressure, not the boys, and Catholics certainly aren't the only Christians to have to deal with sexual Victorianism.

The bigger factors, though, have to do with Church jurisprudence and the simple fact that Catholics believe too strongly in God and his potential micromanagement of mankind. Over the centuries, separate systems of jurisprudence evolved for clergy and for laity. During the Middle Ages, it was quite common for members of the nobility to arrange to be ordained to the minor Holy Orders so they would be subject only to Church tribunals and not to civil authority; the Church only used capital punishment for heresy, unlike the civil system where all felonies were originally capital crimes. Rome has gotten used to handling criminal matters internally, and that tradition butted heads with modern American jurisprudence in many unfortunate ways, not least of which was Rome's secrecy. The other issue is the Catholics' belief in the power of confession and absolution; a similar concept often voiced today by Protestants is "With God, all things are possible." The Catholics felt that if an errant pedophile was truly contrite and confessed his sins with the intention not to sin again, God would forgive him and heal him of his illness. It was this blind faith in God's active benevolence that led well-intended bishops to forgive their pedophile priests and then place them in a different parish, where, as we saw all too well, temptation again reared its ugly head. Unfortunately, too many bishops believed in serial forgiveness and kept posting and reposting and reposting men who had no business in the priesthood.

So, the Vatican's new homosexual policy is going to do very little to solve the problems which led to the pedophile scandals. In fact, I believe that the policy will markedly increase the risk of additional problems. Why? Because the most sexually repressed people are those who are insecure in their sexuality and trying to hide it. If a man is devout and struggling with his sexual urges, gay or straight, he may create that very environment of repression which breeds pedophilia. And, if the man's urges border on the homosexual, the politics of the new Church policy is bound to make potential seminarians deny to themselves their urges, if not lie about them altogether to others, and in both cases, keeping them from getting the psychological counseling they need. And the policy is certainly not going to help the victims of those pedophiles whose "opportunity" will come from being around little girls.

With this atmosphere of hostility, I'm sure the Church will lose a lot of very good gay priests who are celibate, who are not pedophiles, and who are wonderful pastors for their parishioners; they know they are not welcome, and they know their opportunities for advancement in the Church will be thwarted. Many potentially good priests who are gay, bisexual, or questioning in their orientation, however celibate and chaste, will never seek to serve the Church. Sadly, new gay priests will continue to be ordained, but they will be forced into a medieval ecclessiastical closet, living a lie to themselves, their bishops, and their flocks, often compelled to act in prejudicial ways against gay Catholic laity to help bolster their alleged heterosexuality and show their conformity and obedience with anti-gay Church politics.

With as much as the Church demands of us in beliefs and financial commitment, we deserve better.

Where to go to church?

We're trying to decide where to go to church in D.C. on Thanksgiving morning. Since this is our first Thanksgiving weekend in D.C., does anybody have any recommendations?

We tend to prefer more high church places with music, either Catholic or Episcopalian (though we would consider others). Thanks for your help!

Christmas rules

It's not even Thanksgiving yet, and I heard Christmas music playing in a Chinese fast food restaurant last week. I've heard people at the malls already talking about putting up their Christmas trees at home before Thanksgiving! As many of you know, I've long complained about the evolution of Christian practices amongst low Protestants (please note that "low" refers to the level of ritual and liturgy in their worship, and is not a negative term), who often misunderstand traditions and forget their history and evolution. So, in keeping with my professorial nature, I am pleased to offer this information about Christmas and the correct observance thereof:

CHRISTMAS HISTORY AND RULES

Christmas is a religious holy day. Specifically, it is a holy day of Christians dealing with their tradition of the human birth of the Christian god, which actually took place in September (some scholars argue for April), but that is a different story for another post.

Christians from the liturgical denominations (Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican/Episcopalian, Lutheran, and some Methodists) should celebrate Christmas by going to church on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, not at St. Mattress's or the Bedside Assembly.

Christians who are Jehovah's Witnesses do not observe Christmas at all.

Other Christian denominations (particularly those from Calvinist or Congregationalist traditions) should not have special Christmas services, since they descend from churches which decided in the 16th and 17th centuries that Christmas was a "popish" holiday. In many cases they enacted civil laws prohibiting the observance of Christmas; therefore, they should not pretend to be Catholic or Episcopalian and have faux-Midnight Mass services, especially at an earlier hour. They may have an indulgence for this year, since Christmas Day 2005 is on a Sunday, but they should remember that in 1659, they passed a law in Massachusetts fining people for celebrating on December 25.

Atheists, Jews, Muslims, Druids, Wiccans, Hindus, Buddhists, and so forth are not Christians; it is inappropriate and offensive to many Christians for adherents of these beliefs to conscript aspects of the Christian holy day because they are fun or a "nice idea." This includes Christmas trees, parties, and gift giving, even if shrouded in "holiday" euphemisms.

Hanukkah is not the "Jewish Christmas." It's a minor Jewish holiday that commemorates a lamp burning eight days longer than expected during a war.

Christmas is properly observed from December 24 through January 5. These are the "Twelve Days of Christmas" made popular in the carol.

The period of quiet introspection and preparation for Christmas is called Advent. Advent starts four Sundays before Christmas Day; this year, Advent begins on Sunday, November 27. Advent decorations include the use of evergreen branches, particularly for wreaths and garlands, and purple ribbons are used.

Traditionally, Christmas carols and Christmas decorations are not used during Advent. If one starts singing "Silent Night" before Thanksgiving, how will it be special on Christmas Eve? How will one not be sick of Christmas carols during the Twelve Days of Christmas when they are supposed to be sung?

Christmas decorations go up on Christmas Eve; they come down on Twelfth Night, which is January 6. Decorations and trees do not go up Thanksgiving weekend and come down Christmas night.

Realizing that the low Protestant denominations do not have liturgical seasons and often don't know any better, it is permissible for them to begin to do some low-key Christmas decorating prior to Christmas, but they should wait until December to start and under no circumstances may they do so prior to the First Sunday of Advent. Malls, department stores, and other retailers are not the example for Christians celebrating the birth of their Lord.

Christmas (the shortened form of Christ Mass) is often abbreviated "Xmas" because X is the first letter of Xristos, the Greek word for Christ, and has nothing to do with commercial merchants trying to save space in sale ads or a vast left wing conspiracy to "X" or cross Christ out of Christmas.

"Santa Claus" is an Anglicization of the Dutch name Sinterklaas (in early U.S. history, the Dutch were the people who colonized New York), also known as Saint Nicholas, a generous Turkish bishop in the 4th century who was tall, skinny, and dark-complected. Incidentally, bishops usually wear red and white vestments at Mass. His feast day is December 6; in much of Europe, that is the gift-giving day, and traditionally children were given raisins and adults potatoes, although candy for all is popular now.

January 6, or Twelfth Night, is the Feast of the Epiphany, which commemorates the visit of the three wise men to the Christ child. In many traditions, esepcially Orthodox, Epiphany is when gifts are given.

In most of the world, gifts are brought to children only by St. Nicholas on December 6 (in Greek tradition, he came on New Year's Day) or the Three Wise Men on January 6. In America, somehow St. Nicholas gets confused and comes on Christmas Eve; this is probably due to children's poem A Visit from St. Nicholas, now known as The Night Before Christmas, generally attributed to Clement Moore ca. 1823 (though many modern scholars believe it was written by Henry Livingston), which is technically inaccurate but seems to have become the American bible for "Santa Claus". Interestingly, Santa Claus probably originated with pagan Germanic traditions of the god Wodan who gave gifts during Yuletide, the Germanic observance of the winter solstice.

Most Christmas decoration traditions have pagan and druidic orgins dealing with the winter solstice and other winter holidays, particularly trees, holly, greenery, mistletoe, and Yule logs. The Catholic Church has had a long history of adapting indigenous customs and traditions and giving them their own special Catholic meaning and twist, though, so these things have centuries of "approved" Christian use.

Christmas trees began to be common in Germany in the 1700s and were not used in the United States at all outside of German immigrant communities until the late 1800s, after Queen Victoria's husband introduced his German tree tradition in England and it caught on there, then migrated here. In order to fulfill Christian symbolism about the promise of everlasting life during the dark days of winter, the tree should be a live evergreen. Since live trees dry out in a heated house, they were put up on Christmas Eve and taken down twelve days later. That used to be common in the U.S. in the early 20th century, and only since World War II and the invention of fake trees have people been pushing and extending the dates.

It is tacky to have more than one Christmas tree per house.

Personal Christmas cards, another Victorian tradition, should be sent only to family and close personal friends. Personal cards MUST be hand addressed and hand signed; mailing labels and computer-printed envelopes are tacky and indicate the sender doesn't care enough about his or her 1,000 closest and dearest friends to write them a personal holiday greeting. Christmas letters need to be shorter, less egotistical, and much more sparingly used.

Business "holiday" cards should be non-religious and sent by the business, not by the businessman's wife signing the card from "Biff, Muffy, little Susie and little Johnny." They, too, should be hand addressed and the postage should be a stamp rather than a meter.

Christians who want to include their Jewish, Muslim, Wiccan, etc., friends on their Christmas card list should not send a Christmas card (or a Hanukkah card!), but may use "New Years" cards in lieu of a Christmas card.

Christmas lights on houses serve the same purpose as candles or lights on a Christmas tree, which is to chase away evil spirits and demons and to represent the "light of Christ." House lights should be tasteful. If they illuminate the entire neighborhood or if one doubles ones electric bill during December, that is a good sign one's decorations are not tasteful.

Traditional holiday feast foods were made with rich, high fat ingredients because the harvest was recent, the winter famine was about to begin, and people needed a little extra weight on them to get them through the winter. There seem to be very few Americans these days who are in need of extra holiday fat to get them through the winter, so keep that in mind when cooking, planning menus, and eating!

That red-leafed Mexican plant which is popular in the U.S. during December is a poinsettia, which is not pronounced "POINT-set-uh," but "POIN-set-tee-ah" (the big difference is there is not supposed to be a T on the end of the first syllable).

Office Christmas parties are some of the most perilous times for subordinate employees, who are being watched by their superiors. Therefore, one must make an appearance at the office party, but it is IMPERATIVE that one not get drunk!

Christmas is supposed to be a time of rejoicing and celebration about a baby's birth in a religious story. It is not about conspicuous consumption, greed, or stress. Keep Christmas simple and both you and your family will be much happier!

Pozdrevlyayu s prazdnikom Rozhdestva is Novim Godom!
Joyeux Noël!
Kung His Hsin Nien bing Chu Shen Tan!
Fröhliche Weinacht!
Hyvää Joulua!
Buon Natale!
Shub Naya Baras!
Feliz Navidad!
U-li-he-li-s'di Da-ni-s'da-yo-hi-hv-I!
Have a blessed Christmas (after a blessed Advent)!

What is a Spanish organ?

Today is Christ the King Sunday. It's always a festive day in Roman and anglo-catholic Episcopal parishes since it's the end of the church's liturgical year; next Sunday is the First Sunday in Advent and "new years day" at church. I went to the bowling alley church (a/k/a St. Stephen Martyr here in Foggy Bottom) this morning for Mass. Several of you have asked me why I call it the "bowling alley church," so I took a few pictures the other day to show you.





You remember all those bowling alleys that were built back in the early 1960s with exactly this style of arches and undulating architecture? Every time I go to Mass here, I'm reminded of the Rose Bowl back in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Anyway, since this is a festival day at St. Stephen's they had a special service program for today. The inside front cover was reserved for comments about their music program and organ. Let me excerpt a few things:

...your encouragement helped Msgr. Hill and now Msgr. Filardi to articulate a developing vision for St. Stephen's as Washington's Musical Catholic Parish........However, unlike many of our Protestant and Jewish neighbors with fine music programs, our music department doesn't function on an endowment.

All music for organ is based on whatever parts of our broken organ happen to be working in a given week. While the remaining instrument may "sound OK" to some ears, it is extremely difficult to play and the last remaining division will very soon be completely unplayable. Help! We need generous angels to help us raise the remaining $814,000.

As a special project in Washington's most musical neighborhood, please consider helping to build the country's first Spanish-inspired orchestral organ......

What is a Spanish organ?

Now, I'll be the first to confess that my tastes (and knowledge) in organs lean heavily towards the modern British sound, though I am tolerant of French organs (largely because there are so many French composers whose organ works I love). I know the German sound, which I'm not terribly fond of, but I just don't know the "Spanish" sound. When last I was in Spain, it was summertime and they wouldn't let me in to the cathedrals because I was wearing shorts, so I've not heard or seen a Spanish organ. I'll have to refer this explanation to some of my infinitely more knowledgable musician readers.

Acoustic design at St. Stephen's is difficult. If you look at the interior photo above, you'll see on the left three bays on the "mezzanine" level; that is the choir loft, and the organ console is located in the bay which is closest to you. The pipe chamber, however, is in a room at the far end of the choir loft, and opens into the loft, not into the nave or the sanctuary! I should think that problem needs to be fixed. It's also a large enough nave that an antiphonal division in the back would be useful. Of course, I don't know the "Spanish" solutions to the organ. I also have no clue why this parish wants a "Spanish sound," since the previous pastor was Irish, the current is Italian, and I see very few New World Hispanics in the pews, let alone Spaniards.

Anyway, this morning's Mass was nice. I still think the organist/choirmaster comes from an Episcopalian background (as I've previously observed), since the opening hymn was Diademata, the offertory hymn was Leoni, the closing hymn was Nettleton, and the communion motet was Healy Willan's "O King All Glorious." Of course, they still do a few of those "unfortunate" modern Roman congregational antiphon/cantor-choral verse songs for communion and the Gloria, and I continue to fail to see why this parish does a not-sung-by-95%-of-the-congregation congregational hymn during the offertory, instead of an anthem. It's not as if they don't have a competent choir! This morning, the choir sang an a capella choral prelude ( John Amner's "Come, Let's Rejoice") then did a new plainsong arrangement of "The Lamb Who Was Slain" for an introit, so we know they are capable of an offertory. The usual female cantoress was not there this morning, so they were playing musical cantors with a woman I could barely hear and a college boy who bleats and hasn't learned to negotiate his passaggio.

Now I just have to decide where to go for Mass on Thanksgiving morning. I don't know which parishes make a big deal out of it and which just have a low Mass.

Rejoice!

Yay! I'm so excited!

My four tickets to Midnight Mass at the Washington National Cathedral arrived in today's mail!!!

Now all I have to do is find two or three people who'll be in town on Christmas Eve and who want to go with me.

A DS9 beginning

The very first episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is airing right now on the Spike cable television network.

For those of you who aren't home during weekday daytimes, Spike has been running two episodes of DS9 followed by three episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation in the noon to 5 p.m. time slot. Yesterday, they ran the final two episodes of the DS9 series, and I didn't know what to expect with the time slots today; often, networks use syndicated series endings as a time to change their programming and switch to other shows. DS9 has had no such terminal fate today, though.

As I watch this "first" episode, it brings back a lot of memories from years ago. DS9 debuted over a dozen years ago, on January 3, 1993. That day, I had flown to Miami to attend a legal continuing education conference, so I had to watch the show from my room at the Fontainebleau Hotel on Miami Beach. It was quite different from what we were used to: The Next Generation was still in the last two years of its production, and this new show was so different! DS9 is a very dark show, both in terms of scene lighting and in terms of plot themes. Non-human characters were much more prevalent. And, DS9 became much more of a prime-time soap opera, with story arcs that continued from show to show and season to season. Eventually the series would become rather bogged down in the bleakness of interstellar war before its conclusion in 1999, but along the way, it presented a number of important social issue discussions.

Two of the most important issues were related to critiquing religion as a force in society at a time when America was uneasy about its religious beliefs while the nightly news was constanting discussing the sexual peccadillos of a Southern Baptist president and a nice Jewish girl.

Set on a space station near the planet of Bajor, DS9 balanced the secular humanism of the Next Generation tradition with the extremely devout religious beliefs of a near-theocracy on Bajor. Bajorian religion also had a lot of interesting parallels to Hinduism and Buddhism, and included a group of "Prophets" or gods who intervened regularly in the day to day activities of the people on Bajor; non-Bajorans, however, thought of the Prophets as "wormhole aliens" who were superior, powerful, supernatural beings living in a space "wormhole" tunnel. The Bajorans also struggled with their religious leadership controlling their laws, politics, and government, something with which modern-day Muslims and Evangelical Christians are similarly struggling.

The other major issue was more subtle, yet academically more important. A character, security officer Odo, was a part of a race of people known as the Founders or the Shape-Shifters, all of whom had the ability to assume any shape, be it humanoid, animal, plant, inanimate object, or even gases and fire. On their home planet, they lived in "The Great Link," a conglomeration of all the beings combined as one in liquid form, making most of the planet a vast ocean of beings. When I was teaching my ancient and medieval humanities classes, I had my students consider the Great Link and compare it to the ancient Egyptian concept of "ka," where each living thing in the universe contains a little piece of life force/sustainance from a common source. We then explored the evolution of that thought into Judeo-Christian concepts of the "soul," asking if humankind's soul is a little piece of "God" broken off, and after the death of the corporeal body, which returns to "God" or "The Light" and becomes again one with the whole. We also looked at parallels between Founders in the Link being one, yet being able to pull out into a separate corporeal entity, and the Christian concept of Trinitarianism.

And, thus, we teach with popular culture.

So, the impact of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine continues, and cable-connected Trekkers across the country can continue their watching and worshipping. The sociological impact of Gene Roddenberry and producer Paramount Pictures on American society has always been significant and they have never been shy about addressing controversial issues. Their artistry in raising these issues and molding opinion is something I've always admired.

Meanwhile, when is some network going to show the reruns of Star Trek: Voyager or Star Trek: Enterprise? We all pretty much have the original series and Next Generation shows memorized, and we're getting close to the same with DS9 shows. There are dozens of Voyager and Enterprise shows I've never even seen. If Spike-TV can devote five hours a day to the Star Trek franchise, surely they can allot a single hour for one of the newer shows. If not Spike, maybe someone else can take the lead.

Why? Because (to my friend Tony's grammatical consternation) it will allow them to boldly go where no man has gone before.

St. Mary's reprise

Just around the corner from me in the midst of all the George Washington University buildings is an old Episcopal church called St. Mary's. It was founded in 1867 as an African church in the years following the Civil War, back when Foggy Bottom was the District's predominantly black neighborhood. Noted D.C. architect James Renwick designed the church, which was completed in 1887. St. Mary's was one of the first churches I visited when I got moved into my condo in January, but that morning happened to be a snow day with a limited service, and they met rather casually in the parish hall, since the nave (worship space) was being remodeled.

Earliler this month, the remodeling was completed and the bishop came for a rededication service. I let all the fuss and newness die down, and went to church yesterday morning for a regular service.

The structure is traditionally oriented so the altar is in the east end of the church; since the church is on the west side of 23rd Street, this means one must go through a courtyard between the church and the parish hall to get to the entrance of the church. As one enters, there is no formal narthex, but the end of the long, rectangular church is open to serve that function. The interior design is classically Victorian neo-gothic revival, and the remodel has "cleaned up" the look, rather than radically modifying it. Perhaps the most modern change is the new cast concrete floor throughout the nave. Walls are exposed red brick and pointed arch stained glass windows line the side walls of the nave. Only about the front half of the windows have images; the back half are just filled with art glass. All of the old wooden pews had been restored and were bolted to the new floor; there were no kneeling rails or kneeling cushions, though.

As one looks up towards the front, the space narrows for the sanctuary and chancel, with the vesting sacristy on the left and the organ pipe chamber on the right. A brass pulpit is on the right of the chancel and a large, carved, wooden eagle serves as the lectern on the left. In the chancel, the organ is on the far left with one row of choir pews in front and then three rows of choir pews are on the right side, all facing the center. In the sanctuary, dark, carved, wood reredos fill almost the entire wall behind the wall-attached wood altar, all under a tryptich of stained glass windows, and no altar rail separated the sanctuary from the chancel. There was some lovely dark olive stenciling all over the sanctuary walls which had been cleaned up to stop the peeling, but which would be stunning if they could have a restoration done.

I entered the nave and was greeted warmly by a greeter and by an usher offering a program. The priest was also making his way to the narthex area and he stopped to talk and welcome me. The small congregation was largely elderly black women with a couple of handfuls of white GWU students. The all-black choir was also middle aged-plus and actually had more men than women. I was a bit surprised at the new pew arrangements. About mid-way in the nave, there was a bit of a break allowing for a walkway, but I can't imagine why, since this is not a large church at all. It is space which I think would have been better used at the front of the nave, since it was quite crowded up there. Instead of using the high altar, they had a very narrow, sofa-table looking "altar" set up just below the chancel step which was set with the eucharistic vessels and missal stand.

As I found my seat, the black male organist was playing a rather traditional prelude. I wasn't sure what to expect musically at this service. Rather than being African or gospel, everything turned out to be very "suburban," standard, small parish, Episcopalian. The hymns were St. Anne, Morning Light, St. Petersburg, Liebster Jesu, and Ora Labora. The organist played a long key modulation between the last two verses of the opening hymn, which I thought odd since they certainly didn't need extra time to get the altar party in place (that only took one verse!). The Gloria, Sanctus/Benedictus, and Agnus Dei were a hodge-podge of standard Rite 2 service music. The choir sang a three part offertory anthem I didn't know which was not identified in the service program, but it was a lot of "Praise ye the Lord" stuff. While the choir was clearly not professional or dotted with paid singers as are so many churches around here, it was actually quite pleasant to listen to them.

The priest-in-charge at St. Mary's is an old retired white guy. Mass was very middle of the road Rite 2 without being either high or annoyingly contemporary. Oddly, most of the congregation didn't seem to know the service, as in when to stand, when to sit, etc. The only thing annoying about the service was the passing of the peace—this is one of those places where everybody wanders around and tries to greet everyone, instead of just those in their immediate vicinity. At least this time the priest didn't ask me to stand up and introduce myself! I opted to leave after communion, partially because the ushers had assisted a barely mobile woman into my pew where I was sitting, and partially because I didn't want to have to deal with a bunch of socialization and chit-chat on my way out of church.

So, that's St. Mary's. I said back in January I'd visit again once they got their church done, and I did. It's a friendly church, but I do tend to like a little more structure and ceremony to my regular worship.

KIng James, the Bible, and the Bedchamber

It always amuses me when I run across a sincere and devout Christian Fundamentalist who believes that the King James Version of the Holy Bible is the one and only way of looking at Christian sacred texts. To hear them talk, one would think that God personally dictated the Bible to his royal servant James in Shakespearean English.

For these poor people, the idea of retranslating from original source languages of the scriptures, hearing about idiomatic evolution in languages, looking at modern archeological discoveries of ancient copies of the writings, and considering unbiased scholarship on cultural contexts are all heretical acts. They say "God said it (to King James); I believe it; and that's that." I've even seen bumper stickers conveying that sentiment.

Paul Harvey was in town this past week to receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Bush. I don't know about my younger readers, but my older readers will no doubt remember Harvey's short radio broadcasts where he told true stories about things to make us think, always ending with the line, "And that's the rest of the story."

Well, sometimes I feel like Paul Harvey, trying to tell my students and others the "rest of the story" about their well-intended, but factually questionable beliefs. Let me tell you a little more about King James and the great Bible translation.

First of all, a little historical background is in order. As everyone remembers, the Protestant Reformation began in 1511 when Martin Luther posted his theses on his church door. Luther and other reformers believed that, contrary to papal doctrine, the Bible contained all things necessary to eternal salvation; consequently, they thought that the common people should be allowed to read the Bible for themselves in a language they understood. So, reformers started translating the Bible into their normal languages, usually working directly from the Latin version (the Bible was originally in Aramaic, Hebrew, or Greek—the Latin version was a translation by St. Jerome finished in 405 A.D.). Naturally, the Church in Rome was not happy about this unauthorized translating, and several people got into big trouble, most notably William Tyndale, the English translator who was burned at the stake for "heresy" in 1536.

Well, once Henry VIII got involved in religion and took England down the reformation path in 1533, faith and worship in England became a perilous game for the rest of the century. On Henry's death in 1547, his nine-year-old son became Edward VI, but the young king died at age 16 in 1553. England's twenty years of Protestantism wasn't enough to stop the mutual religious arrests and executions as Edward's Catholic half sister assumed the throne as queen; thousands were persecuted and nearly 300 were burned at the stake for the "heresy" of being Protestants during Mary's brief reign. After her death, her Protestant half-sister Elizabeth assumed the throne and reigned from 1558 to 1603 and it was the Catholics' turn to be persecuted. Towards the end of Elizabeth's reign, another religious problem arose, and that was the growing number of adherents to the more ascetic form of Protestantism known as Calvinism and especially the Puritans.

Elizabeth was succeeded by her cousin, James I of Scotland, who became James VI of England. Upon his arrival in London, he was immediately faced by religious conflicts in England because of the Puritans, who were refusing to abide by Anglican religious practice. So, in 1604, he met with Puritan representatives at the Hampton Court Conference; while refusing the Puritans' demands in general, he did agree to their request to have a new official translation of the Bible done. Thus, the "King James Version" was authorized.

Now, the "KJV" was not really a great work of Biblical scholarship. Certainly it was poetic, but the translations left a little to be desired. James agreed to the new translation, though, because the then-"official" version of the Bible, the "Bishops' Bible," was not very popular with the people; the biblical best-seller of the day was the Geneva Bible, a translation done in Geneva by Puritan refugees from the reign of the Catholic Mary. James (and most of the English bishops) didn't like the Geneva Bible because of its Presbyterian leanings and its use of explanatory footnotes, which they found "offensive."

James wanted the translation to be non-controversial, to reflect traditional beliefs about ordained clergy, and to be free of the Calvinist ideas of the Puritans. He gave the KJV translators specific instructions, including:

• The ordinary Bible read in the Church, commonly called the Bishops Bible, to be followed, and as little altered as the Truth of the original will permit.
• The Old Ecclesiastical Words to be kept, viz. the Word Church not to be translated Congregation &c.
• No Marginal Notes at all to be affixed, but only for the explanation of the Hebrew or Greek Words, which cannot without some circumlocution, so briefly and fitly be expressed in the Text.
• These translations to be used when they agree better with the Text than the Bishops Bible: Tyndale's, Matthew's, Coverdale's, Whitchurch's, Geneva.

So, while the translators looked at the Hebrew and Greek texts, what they wrote was filtered by previous translations, ecclesiastical tradition, and English cultural tradition. And, once the KJV was completed in 1611, it was slow to be accepted by the English people, who still continued to prefer the Geneva Bible. It wasn't until after the English Civil War and the Restoration in 1661 that the Geneva Bible became a symbol of the now-rejected Puritan era, and people began to use the KJV.

The KJV was formally edited and revised four times; what we know today as the KJV was actually the revision of 1769. I guess after God went to all that trouble to dictate His Bible to James VI, he had to whisper some final edits in the ear of George III (or perhaps they were a hallucination from one of George's bouts with porphyria).

That's the story of the translation of the Authorized Version of the Holy Bible, also known as the King James Version.

---

Now, though, it's time for my Paul Harvey-esque "rest of the story."

James's sexual orientation was so widely known that Sir Walter Raleigh joked about it in public saying "King Elizabeth" had been succeeded by "Queen James."

—Catherine D. Bowen, The Lion and the Throne

James, the married father of eight, had a long and historically well-documented history of preferring men to women in the royal bedchamber. From the time he was thirteen and king of Scotland, he took up with the French nobleman Esmé Stewart, eventually making him the first Duke of Lennox. Reports of the time said James was "in such love with him as in the open sight of the people oftentimes he will clasp him about the neck with his arms and kiss him."

In England, he developed a relationship with Robert Carr, who was noted for his "handsome appearance as well as his limited intelligence," eventually making him the first Earl of Somerset. When Carr wanted to marry a married woman, the king arranged for the divorce and annulment. Their relationship cooled considerably when the earl began to prefer the company of his wife to that of the king.

About that time, the king met George Villiers, who was said to be exceptionally handsome, intelligent and honest. The king knighted Villiers, and then eight years later created him as first Duke of Buckingham; Villiers was the first commoner in over a century to have been created a duke. Their relationship was widely known, even by the queen, who had a friendship with Villiers and they carried on a lot of written correspondence. When the king finally died in 1625, the Duke of Buckingham was at his side.

So, there you have the rest of the story: the King James Version was the world's first gay Bible.