When In England, Do As The Romans Do

Madame's Nightshirt
Mrs. Peperium

"The Catholic Church makes men. . . . Of such she may also someday make soldiers."
-Hilaire Belloc

One of my favorite websites is Owl of the Remove. It is a favorite because it is quiet, capable of great depth, and when one reads it, one is removed, for the most part, from the here and now. Considering what is here, here and now, to be removed from it is a very good thing. Owl of the Remove is written by a Catholic priest living in Vermont who happens to be an Englishman. To enjoy Owl (as I call him) you do not need to know his name, you only need to know he is fond of watching owls, roasting heretics, anything written by Chesterton or Belloc and if Owl is telling the truth, which there is no reason to think he's not, zombie movies. Owl recently took a holiday in his homeland. This post on his holiday perfectly distills why reading Owl of the remove is such an enjoyable experience :

The high point of my trip home, which I intended to have something of the feel of a pilgrimage about it, happened yesterday. We visited the beautiful and ancient village of East Hendred, specifically to visit Hendred House, the home of the Eyston family since 1443. The house, which is not open to the public, is mainly 15th Century, but the Chapel - St. Amand's, was built in 1256. It is one of only three chapels in England built before the so-called Reformation which has never been used for Protestant worship. Mass was celebrated in secret throughout Penal times, and, although the Chapel was desecrated by Cromwell's soldiers, the ancient stained glass was not destroyed. Mass is still said in the Chapel (ad orientem - of course!) weekly. We were guests of the present Lord of the Manor, Edward Eyston, who kindly showed us around. We were able to visit because two of the Eyston girls are nuns in the Sisters of the Assumption - and my Aunt is an Assumption nun - so she came on the trip. (Really sharp readers will remember that it was for Assumption girls that Ronnie Knox wrote books like 'The Mass in Slow Motion' during the war.) The Eystons can trace their ancestry directly back to the family of St. Thomas More and it is because of the incredible relics the family own that I really wanted to come on this pilgrimage. Yesterday, I held in my hands the drinking cup of St. Thomas More, the staff of St. John Fisher and kissed a locket containing a good amount of the hair of Bishop Richard Challoner. In addition we saw an original document signed by St. Thomas More, a book given by Cardinal Newman and signed, to Mrs. Eyston - and several wonderful portraits, including one of St. Thomas More in the Tower. The family could not have been more charming and we were most grateful. The local Anglican Church, a minute or two away, is well worth a visit, with parts dating from the 13th Century. The Chancel screen in the Eyston Chapel (yes - the whole village belongs to the family!) is 15th Century. The treasure is a 13th Century Lectern in wood, with a Crusader's foot treading on a three-headed dragon. There is also a charming little Catholic Church, again on Eyston property, built in the 19th Century, but very traditional in style, with Chancel screen etc. Sadly, no resident priest - if things don't work out in Vermont, I may apply for the living! We then repaired to the Eyston Arms, the village pub, for a good old-fashioned pub lunch. Whenever I think of the English Martyrs, especially St. John Fisher and St. Thomas More, I am reminded of the incredible heritage that the Catholic Church in England possesses - and then I read of English Bishops objecting to the Holy Father's Motu Proprio, changing Holy Days of Obligation and courting the 'establishment.' - I suppose there was only ONE John Fisher!

If another boy had been born into the Peperium brood, his name was to be John Fisher. This was, because as Owl of the Remove so perfectly states, there was only one John Fisher. To carry John Fisher's sainted name throughout his life would be a great gift for any little boy.

Longtime readers are aware that Mr. P and I came to the Roman Church via England. We were Episcopalians which meant we were part of the Church of England, or the Anglican Communion. As our heritage is mainly UK (Mr. P has lots of German blood in him but his parents chose to overlook that familial weakness and develop the English eccentric within), our identity is and was one with a most definite English bent. To depart England, and the English Church was for Rome was no small step as the Roman Church did appear to be very different in many different ways from all that we knew and understood. However we knew Rome was the True Church as it contained the fullness of the Truth. To submit to it and all its differences we must. So we did. But since we are not made of steel, we did waver at times on the road to Rome.

I recall wavering one time that bordered on going totally wobbly. It was June of 1999 (We were received into the Church easter 2000) on the day Prince Edward married his Sophy at St. George's Chapel in Windsor. As I was in the early stages of being heavy with child (Roger Kimball's future daughter-in-law), my balance was already off a bit. When I heard the Bishop begin the marriage service from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, I just about began to cry. Mr. P and I had wanted to be married using the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, or at the very least biblical passages from the Elizabethan bible. But we were denied that request by the womon (not a typo) who married us as she said those texts "were against women". The womon who married us, was such a firm trencherman in the cause of remaking the Episcopal Church in her and her fellow womon's images, she was kicked upstairs to the episcopate and is now the Bishop of Indianapolis. Imagine our surprise (and profound disappointment) when we found out just months after our wedding that our parish frequently performed weddings using the 1662 Book of Common Prayer as well allowed the Elizabethan bible to be read from for the bible passages. That not everyone, inlcuding 2 of the other priests there believed those texts, as we ourselves did not, to be "against women". The womon who married us was applying her own private judgement to the texts of the Church she had signed on to serve and then denied perfectly a reasonable (as well as on the up and up canon-wise) request from members of the flock to further what can only be described as her own political agenda. (Now look at the Dryden quote in the masthead of Patum Peperium and you will have some deeper insight to why it is there.) Anyhoo, Mr. P saw my dampening spirits as Prince Edward and Sophy were exchanging their vows and asked "What's wrong?" With the tear spigot about to turn on in full flood force, I asked him, "Do we have to give this all up?"

Mr. P: "Give what up?"

Me: "This!" while gesturing wildly towards the television as the tears began streaming down my face.

Mr. P: "That?" and he pointed calmly to the television.

Me: "Yes, that...."

Mr. P: "'That' was built by Catholics! Those bastards stole it when they started their own church!"

Me : "They did? St. George's was once Catholic? It was stolen?""

Mr. P: "Yes it was once Catholic. And someday it will be again."

Me : "Ooh! Then I can give it up because I'm not really giving it up, am I?"

Mr. P: "Yes, you can give it up. Because you have to give it up. But you're not really giving it up because England is really Catholic, not Anglican."

Me: "Huh?"

Over time, due to reading the books my Mr. P suggested I read to understand how England was truly a Catholic country, I came to understand how right he was when he said St. George's Chapel was ours (Catholic) and (using Mr. P's description) those bastards had stolen it. This was a refreshing on-the-offense perspective to carry as we navigated the road to Rome. And being on the offense was quite fun as, naturally, as it was quite offensive to those who still foolishly fell (and at their own peril I might add) for the Tudor settlement on religion. We found that Episcopalians have little understanding of the true history of their Church. And as Cardinal Newman, an earlier convert to the Roman Church from the English Church, once said so well, "To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant." Since our conversion was not an emotional one, it was a rational one, Mr. P and I went around offending almost everyone we knew as we tried to honestly explain why we had left the English Church. It was as if we were shooting fish in a barrel.

One of the most memorable fish-in-a-barrel times was at an intimate cocktail party in our home of about 4 couples. Mr. P and I were the only Catholics present. We were all sitting around the fireplace chatting and laughing when the conversation naturally turned to the Catholic Church and how did we like it? Then the questions began flying. The first real humdinger was, "Do the priests keep a record of how many times you go to the confessional so you don't get in trouble with the Church?" Mr. P fielded that question as if he been up at bat at Fenway Park. His bat made contact with that ball and it sailed right over the Big Green Monster, went on to clear the Citco sign in Kenmore Square and then landed with a graceful and gentlemanly plop into the middle of the Charles River. Mr. P gave a very long dissertation on the sacrament of reconciliation, and how the Church expects us to be adults. And no, the priests do not walk around with clipboards checking off your name each time you show up.

Thankfully, Mr. P was too exhausted by his homerun hit to even take a swing at the next question because it was the kind of question that causes the vein in the middle of his forehead to throb, "Are all the priests gay?" I stepped up to the base and just let loose on feminism. It had become my firm belief after going through the RCIA process and being a Catholic of a few months that ANY woman that thinks the Catholic Church is an oppressor of women and children is a sick woman in need of very serious medical help. The Catholic Church is the greatest defender of woman and children we have on this earth. And I added, the priests I have met are among the most masculine men I have ever met. True masculinity is like true femininity : They are not about asserting yourself. This is because most of us assert ourselves improperly --think of the Episcopal Bishop of Indianapolis, Paris Hilton, or Bill Clinton. True masculinity and femininity are about submission. Proper submission. Submission to God. God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. True men who become good priests submit to God and they submit beautifully without losing their masculinity. And because they've submitted, they don't want to change their Bride the Church, they want to love, cherish, and protect their Bride the Church.

John Fisher was an English priest who loved, cherished, and protected his Bride the Church. In the early days of the so-called English Reformation, he tried to stop those bastards from breaking away from Rome. And those bastards didn't like this. So those bastards did to him what those sorts of bastards do. They killed him, leaving his naked, headless body out in the open air for 2 weeks while his head sat impaled on a pike. Then those bastards removed his head from the pike and replaced it with the head of another good man. That would be the head of the married Englishman who also loved, cherished and protected the Church, Sir Thomas More. He too tried to stop those bastards from breaking away from Rome too. So those bastards offed him. Then, those bastards went on to break away from Rome and steal everything they could from the Roman Church to make up their new Church. But there was one thing those bastards couldn't steal : The fullnes of the Truth. Probably because those bastards weren't too interested in it at the time.

May the English people desire the fullness of the Truth that was once their birthright. May England become Catholic again. Then, those bastards will have to give back everything they stole.

Oh joyous day!

* Here is some important related reading The New Catholic Manliness, as who does this remind you of? :

"For one, they are carrying themselves differently: They take pride in their masculine attributes,"  says Monsignor Swetland. "The last couple generations of priests generally weren't too concerned about taking care of themselves physically," but these days "they work out, they play sports, they want to look and dress and act like men." Also in contrast to their predecessors, they're interested in pursuing "a distinctly masculine spirituality," says Monsignor Rohlfs "in part," he adds with a laugh, because "there's a sense of relief that it's now acceptable to talk that way."

Remember Father M., the red shoes are on me when they give you Bishop Fulton Sheen's cape...

Comments

[Christine]

St. Thomas More is my husband's patron saint--and because he's the patron saint of attorneys, also happens to be mine.

Ah, but what can one way about the martyrs of the English Reformation? The Jesuits, back when they were magnificent? I keep thinking I will send Mel Gibson a copy of Fr. Benson's "Come Rack! Come Rope!" to persuade him to turn it into a film. If anyone can do a good job of it, he can.

[Old Dominion Tory]

On the topic of the priests who returned to Tudor England in order to keep The Faith alive, I also recommend "God's Secret Agents" by Alice Hogge, who apparently is from a recusant family. Another good book is the well-illustrated "The Catholics and Their Houses," a tour of the houese of the English families that stayed true to the Church.
One more nifty book for those interested in English Catholics is Mark Bence-Jones' "The Catholic Families." Very entertaining and informative, it examines the loyal families up until the early 1990s.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Christine, Mel Gibson? Heck, we can write the screenplay ourselves. Father M. can drum up the financing among the D.C. crowd. Then we'll shoot shoot it ourselves (I can run a camera-- even know the trick of Vaseline on the lense to make the ladies more attractive like they always did in Star Trek) and we'll use Sir Basil's wardrobe. I'm sure he's got a extra few lace ruffs and tights around...

Hmmn...the casting sessions could be great fun as we'll need to find real men...

ODT, I'll have to look at those...if I ever get the chance...

[Andrew Cusack]

I recommend the 'Autobiography of a Hunted Priest' by Fr. John Gerard, written in Latin and translated into English, with an introduction by Graham Greene? I have an old paperback edition from the 1970s or thenabouts.

Anyhow, it's the autobiography of an English Jesuit who slips about England in disguise and even goes to jail, and escapes. All very interesting, especially since it is all from the perspective of the hunted priest himself.

[Old Dominion Tory]

I might answer the casting call, Mrs. Peperium, except that, with the way I look now, I fear I'd end up being cast in the role of a corrupt Tudor functionary, instead of one of the admirable characters, such as Cardinal Allen.

[Nasty, Brutish and Short]

Wow, it takes a lot to offend me. And this is really offensive.

[Mrs. Peperium]

I'm sorry Nasty.

[Basil Seal]

"Never apologize, never explain..." -Evelyn Waugh

[Nasty, Brutish & Short]

Pas de probleme. It is an extremely agitating time to be Anglican, and my fuse is short.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Glad to hear that about the no problem bit. Not the agitating time bit...

Have a great time up North. I've heard it's fantastic up there right now.

[Father M.]

Msgr. Rohlfs is Rector of my seminary Alma Mater and Msgr. Swetland was in his last year when I was in my first. He is truly brilliant and, like our Christine, an Oxford grad. I was happy to see them quoted.

Thank you for the generous offer of red shoes but they are reserved to the feet of the Fisherman as red shoes, ecclesiastically, remain reserved to the Supreme Pontiff... As for the cape of Archbishop Sheen: Not a chance. Anyway, I love being a parish priest.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Ah...so they were speaking of you...I knew it...

My detective skills are rather uncanny, aren't they?

Oh and JPII was once a parish priest that traveled about by dog sled...