“Ordinary” Time


Thus writes Marvin Olasky: “Passover and Easter are the only Jewish and Christian holidays that move in sync, like the ice skating pairs we saw during the winter Olympics.” But the question of a fixed date for Easter, the Christian Passover, is once again under discussion, at the highest ecumenical levels. The well-known English writer, A.N. Wilson, says in his column in the Spectator (January 23, 2016) that the purpose of this discussion “is to allow people to plan their holidays”. This destroys all the poetry and symbolism of Easter’s relation to the Jewish Passover. Apparently Pope Francis, the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Coptic Pope Tawodros II – presumably in consultation with Ryanair, Tesco and Disney World – are all agreed on the plan to turn the central mystery of the Christian faith into a mere spring break”. It is inconceivable: but just remember what vandalism has been wrought on the celebrations of Epiphany and the Ascension.

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The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing.

The People’s Democracy of Australia has decided to abolish the titles of Knight and Dame, on the grounds that such titles are “anachronistic”. It is sad but hardly to be wondered at, given the contemporary evisceration of all that has hitherto been honored as chivalrous and truly romantic. I assume that the Prime Minister will no longer be addressed as “Mister”, for that is every bit as much a title. What then? Will he now be addressed as “Citizen” or “Comrade”? But we know very well what joyful societies that would lead to.

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The Preacher sought to find pleasing words, and uprightly he taught words of truth — Ecclesiastes 12:9


Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. Well, not entirely. Things have changed a bit, even here in Texas. These days, when I go into our local grocery store (even if, rarely, I am not in clerical attire) I am regularly addressed as “Father”. But, years ago, a check-out clerk, seeing my collar, would ask, “Are you a preacher?” – to which I would smile and respond to the effect that preaching was indeed one of things I do.

I have been doing it now for more than fifty-five years. And it gets easier as the years pass because, now, the lectionary and the cycle of the seasons have been pondered so often – and not only easier, but also ever more enjoyable. To spend a morning at my desk (often with music in the background), reading and reflecting on the appointed scripture passages, consulting commentaries and the teachings of the doctors of the Church, scouring my files for hopefully vivid – and, perhaps, amusing – illustrations, praying over it all: what a pleasure it is to spend such a creative morning, as unhurried as “retirement” allows.

The Roman Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments recently published its Homiletic Directory that provides immensely valuable and practical assistance to the preacher. In particular, it insists that an effective homily always requires prayer — an invitation to the Holy Spirit “as the principal agency that makes the hearts of the faithful amenable to the divine mysteries … The homily should be delivered in a context of prayer, and it should be composed in a context of prayer”.

In that the homily is preached in a liturgical setting – the Mass or the Divine Office – the prayerful context of its delivery is assured. But perhaps we should do more to ensure that the words are received by the congregation in a conscious context of prayer.

Many years ago, a priest whom I had invited as guest preacher at the Church of St Mary the Virgin mounted the pulpit after the proclamation of the Gospel. After what seemed like a very long moment of silence he turned to the sedilia and said to me: “What do I have to do to make the people sit down?” With some laughter the congregation sat. What they had been waiting for, what they were accustomed to before sitting for the sermon, was some preliminary invocation – “In the Name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit”, perhaps, to which they would affirm by their “Amen”.

When I was young, Anglican preachers (I can’t speak of others) would often begin their sermons by quoting an adaption of Psalm 19:14 – “Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of our hearts, be acceptable in thy sight”, and the people would complete the verse by responding “O Lord, our strength, and our redeemer”. Thus they would assert some personal investment in what would follow.

A great Anglican theologian and preacher, who married great scholarship with profound spirituality, Warden of Keble College, Oxford, Austin Farrer (with whom I had some personal contact more than fifty years ago) would bring his eloquent, moving and instructive sermons to an end by prayer. Thus: “The best way to assure a constant supply is not to gaze into the bottom of the pool but the drawer water out and scatter it on the garden, so as to make room for more to flow in below. Be with me, O God, and help me to obey thee in using and spreading abroad thy grace.” (The end of a sermon entitled The Hidden Spring.)

Or this: the last words of his sermon on The Ultimate Hope, preached a few days before Christmas 1968, just a week before his sudden and premature death: “ … passing from the great Begetter to what is begotten by him, we shall see his likeness in his creatures, in angels and blessed saints: returning at long last the love that has been lavished on us, and reflecting back the light with which we have been illuminated. To that blessed consummation, therefore, may he lead all those for whom we pray, he who is love himself, who came to us at Bethlehem, and took us by the hand.”

But to me, Austin Farrer’s most engaging sermon conclusions consisted in his practice of enfolding, in varied form according to context, a formula of prayer which I can only track down to a small manual of pulpit prayers compiled by T. W. Wood and published in 1876. One example, from many (see Austin Farrer’s sermons in Said or Sung, and A Celebration of Faith): “You gave, beyond taking back, you were committed, when you gave your spirit into your Father’s hands: and so I am contented to know that I am committed into yours. For you are our everlasting shepherd, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, one God; to whom be ascribed, as is most justly due, all might, dominion, majesty and power, henceforth and for ever. Amen.

Perhaps we should return to such sanctifying eloquence.

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God created man in his own image … male and female he created them

In the desolate aftermath of the Supreme Court’s decision on same-sex “marriage” I remembered a very fine exposition of the truth, set out below:


The following is the text of a meditation given by Father Dwight Duncan (then Rector of St Matthias Episcopal Church, Dallas) to the Dallas Diocesan School For Spiritual Directors, on January 14, 1979.

Sexuality is one of those “givens” of life, with which – rejoice us as it may, chafe us as it might – each of us must grapple. It is given, isn’t it? – not something produced or manufactured by us, but something which we are when we enter into the world as created by God. So, as you …. contemplate sexuality and spirituality, it may benefit us to reflect on the givenness of sexuality and to ponder its why.

It is interesting, isn’t it, that this one total reality called creation is split from the moment of its calling forth into two distinct polarities, male and female: there are male and female hippopotami, male and female junebugs, even male and female roaches — forbid the thought! — and male and female living souls, called man, called woman.

Think about all that for a moment. From the point of view of modern technocratic society this split by God of his creation into two polarities, male and female, is unnecessary. Surely, one person, neither male nor female, could do the job of both. As well, this creation with two polarities is a totally inefficient way of going about things. The goal of modern society — in areas as widely divergent as sexuality and factory manufacture — is to make everything much more efficient. And the way you do this is by making things exactly alike, or at least interchangeable.

But perhaps I am being too harsh on modern society. For haven’t we always thought that God could have done things better, men often wishing women to be more like men, women often wishing men to be more like women? Such wishful thinking is born out of our daily struggles with one another, our struggles to put up with one another of the opposite sex (oh! what struggles we sometimes have!), to survive with one another and …. even …. to love one another. Sometimes it would be so much easier if we were all alike in every way. Remember the song we used to sing in the 4th grade: “Reuben, Reuben, I’ve been thinking / what a good world this would be / if the men were all transported / far across the northern sea”? And then we boys would answer the girls in like manner. To live in a world where we are all alike! There are days when it would seem like paradise!

Haven’t you ever, if only for a moment, thought thoughts such as these? Poets have! And such thoughts are as good a sign of the Fall as any, for they manifest humanity’s dissatisfaction with its own givenness.

Yes, maleness and femaleness from our point of view, may be unnecessary. And yes, God may have been much more efficient if, in creating, he had not created such polarity and diversity. But he did. It would seem that God is unconcerned with such categories of ours as efficiency and necessity. So, might we discover the reason, or at least catch some glimmers that make sense of this polarity and diversity, this maleness and femaleness in creation …. this gift of sexuality?

I think we might, at least capture or be captured by some glimmers into the scandal of male and female. And this insight these glimmers, are scandalous in the sense of that word’s root meaning: they cause our fine intellects to stumble — but they can make our hearts trip with delight! The glimmers are these:

God is taking for himself a wife! That’s the simplest way of putting it. And you know who that wife is? You and me…. creation. Isn’t that a lark! Try as we might to avoid it, this is one of the recurring themes of biblical revelation. In fact the scripture itself begins and ends with a marriage and is shot throughout with wedding proclamation.

It begins with a marriage proposed in Adam and with the union of Adam and Eve in a garden. It continues with a marriage contracted in Abraham and covenanted with Moses and that unruly band of his at Sinai’s height. It proclaims a marriage sealed in Christ and rejoices in a marriage consummated in the Eschaton (c.f. The Revelation of St John the Divine).

Haven’t you ever noticed that throughout the Old Testament the people of Israel will return again and again to speak of themselves as the bride of Yahweh?

Aren’t we all aware of how this reality finds its real focus and fulfillment in the New Testament? Consistently, when Jesus refers to the Kingdom of Heaven, he talks in terms of a wedding feast …. and presents himself as the bridegroom. The Church is proclaimed as his bride — for the bride is ever the body of the bridegroom, for she has been made one body with him in baptismal marriage and has become the flesh through whom he is given to the world. That is the way of a woman; she is always the body of man — it is through union with her that he is born and takes his flesh.

And the culminating vision held before us of the ultimate victory of God in redeeming us is that vision given by the Holy Spirit in the Apocalypse, the Revelation of St John the Divine. For there we hear of, and perceive, the heavenly wedding, when the Church (redeemed creation) is finally ready to be presented to her bridegroom, God the Son, as his Holy Bride, pure and without spot or wrinkle.

But more: “The central act of the Church on earth, the Eucharist is not a celebration of life and genius …. it is a more festal and awesome thing: it is a marriage supper, the wedding feast. This is the supernatural action in which God, who has conferred his sensuality upon creation by breathing on primordial water, fleshes our senses with lights and incense and color and, above all, bread and wine, marrying invisibility with visibility, and ritually consummating the marriage …” Priest and Priestess, George William Butler.

Perhaps our mystics have broken through most for us in comprehending all this. Our mystical Jewish forbears, in their book The Zohar, called creation — the earth and all within her — the chosen, the Holy Shekinah (the dwelling-place of God), cast off by God and then reunited in an embrace.

And then, among many, there is St John of The Cross. In one of his Divine Songs he records this interior dialogue of God the Father and God the Son. I share it with you in paraphrase:

Father:            Our love is so full, how shall we let it overflow? Shall I create for you a bride?

Son:                 Yes, that is exactly what we should do.

Father:            But if I do, she may reject you, she may run from the altar. And since, if I create her, I shall put so much of ourself into her, she shall be the only bride I shall create for you. If she does reject you, you must run after her and woo her back. You may even have to die for her. Are you willing to do that?

Son:                 Oh yes, I am.

Then, from the Father’s mouth come the words “Fiat Lux!”, the first words of creation in Genesis 1:3.

Have you ever heard a truer summary of Creation, the Fall and Redemption than that? All of this we must rehearse if we are to begin to capture a glimpse of the why of sexuality as gift from God, the why of male and female. God is a God who reveals, who wills us to know him and to know ourselves and the mystery of our destiny. How should we know the purpose of creation and the goal of her fulfillment — our fulfillment — if, on the plain of our earthly existence, God did not give a revelation of this, a sign of this?

The presence of male and female on the earthly plain is such a sign, is such a revelation. The presence, the fact of male and female, holds up before creation — before us who comprise her — the purpose, the goal, the intention, the destiny of creation. And that purpose, that goal, that intention, that destiny is for her to be eternally, beautifully, exquisitely, ecstatically united to God in the embrace of love, in the rest of love …. and in the frolics of love. Yes, the frolics of love: that is why it is more than mere sweet poetic license to speak of the morning stars dancing, the sun and the moon singing, the mountains roaring, and the hills clapping their hands. It is more than poetic license and device: it is true.

In the interrelationship of man and woman we have the earthly manifestation of the supernatural reality: the wedding of God and creation.

For St Paul, writing in the 5th chapter of Ephesians, the difference of the sexes, the raison d’etre of the gift of sexuality, reaches its fullness in the fact that enables men and women to perceive and comprehend the great mystery of salvation: “This is a great mystery,” he says of the interaction of man and woman, “But I speak of Christ and his Church”.

It would seem that on earth, a man’s first ministry stems solely from his sexuality as a man and it is a ministry of revelation: he is the effective symbol of, the transparency which points us to, a heavenly bridegroom — Christ.

It would seem that on earth a woman’s first ministry stems solely from her sexuality as a woman and it is a ministry of revelation: she is the effective symbol of, the transparency which points us to, a beloved bride for the heavenly bridegroom — redeemed creation.

In the standing of men and women on earth, in the fact of sexuality — of maleness and femaleness running up and down the order of creation — and in the dance of attraction and retreat of union and distinction, of communion and flirtation which, to some degree or other, is part of every encounter between man and woman: in this we are pointed beyond, to the heavenly dance of the heavenly marriage, for which creation was always intended and to which redeemed creation, the Holy Church of God, is moving.

“The Spirit and the Bride say, Come!” [Revelation 22:17]. These are among the last words of scripture. And the Bridegroom has answered: “Yes, I am coming soon!” [Revelation 22:20].

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“It is hard not to write satire” — Juvenal (c. 55-c. 130)


Millions of unborn innocents are slaughtered by abortion, unnatural “marriage” is sanctioned by the Supreme Court, there are current moves in Congress to legalize on-line poker, a tidal wave of pornography sweeps over us – but in Arlington, Texas, I can’t buy a modest bottle of wine at 11:30 AM on my way home for lunch after Sunday Mass! Just imagine what it would mean if I could buy that bottle of wine before Noon. Surely the sky would fall; depravity would sweep over us all.


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A Strange Land

Strange Land

By the waters of Babylon

Preaching at my seminary in 1966 (some years after I had graduated from there), the Reverend Dr Owen Chadwick – then Master of my college, Selwyn, and Dixie Professor of Ecclesiastical History in the University of Cambridge – said this:

“It is a strange land in which God’s people live. I must retain my ideals among people who do not share them. I must demand moral principle where voices question the axioms on which my principle rests. … I must sing [the Lord’s song, cf. Psalm 137] though some tell me that is the song of a dreamer … I know that I am a stranger in the land.”

Those words come to us from almost sixty years ago. Five years earlier, Michael Ramsey, at his enthronement as Archbishop of Canterbury, said: “Help one another, serve one another, for the times are urgent, and the days are evil.”

Since then, we have had (in the United Kingdom) the 1968 Abortion Act and (in the United States) the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision by the Supreme Court. Since then, how many innocent, God-given lives have been denied their births? Eighty million-plus, perhaps? Since then, we have been inundated by the contraceptive tsunami that our government has sought to impose. Western, post-Christian society has enthusiastically embraced barrenness, and it about to reap the demographic whirlwind.

“The times are urgent, and the days are evil.” So said Archbishop Ramsey in 1961. How exponentially more so now!

Aristotle held that “Nature ever seeks an end”, its telos, the reason for which it is, what it is meant to be. And anything that operates contrary to this principle in any given thing is unnatural to that thing. Thus, the Supreme Court, in Obergefell v. Hodges, has given us natural marriage  and unnatural marriage.

But Cicero said: “… true law is reason, right and natural, commanding people to fulfill their obligation and prohibiting them and deterring them from doing wrong. Its validity is universal; it is immediate and eternal. Its commands and prohibitions apply effectively to good men, and those uninfluenced by them are bad. Any attempt to supercede this law, to repeal any part of it, is sinful; to cancel it is entirely impossible. Neither the Senate nor the Assembly can exempt us from its demands; we need no interpreter or expounder of it … There will not be one law in Rome, one in Athens, or one now and one later, but all nations will be subject all the time to this one changeless and everlasting law.”

God said [Deuteronomy 30]: “See, I have set before you this day life and good, death and evil. If you obey the commandments of the Lord your God … by loving the Lord your God, by walking in his ways, and by keeping his commandments and his statutes and ordinances, then you shall live and multiply … I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse, that you and your descendants may live …”

There is frequent, though thus far ineffectual reference to the national debt of 18 trillion dollars. There is concern that this is the heritage we are bequeathing to our children and to our children’s children. But it is as nothing, in terms of its consequences, as compared to the moral bankruptcy they will inherit from us. They will inherit the prospect of doom rather than the Gospel of Life. As Ephraim Radner has said (in “After Obergefell: a First Things Symposium”): “We are heading into a period where human rights of all kinds are likely to be abused, ignored, and disassembled. Children are always the first to go.”

Pope St. John Paul II, in Evangelium Vitae, understood that threat within the context of the perennial conflict between life and death which emerged at the very beginning of human history and to which Scripture testifies in the events of Cain, who because of envy “rose up against his brother Abel and killed him”; of the ancient pharaoh who, viewing as a threat the increasing number of the children of Israel, ordered that every newborn male of the Hebrew women should be put to death; or Herod who, out of fear for his throne, “sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem”; and finally of the apocalyptic conflict in which “the dragon stood before the woman … that he might devour her child when she brought it forth”. Human life, the Pope taught, has always been threatened by the forces of evil [my emphasis].

“It is a strange land in which God’s people live” – and more than strange: it is sinister, because it is occupied by the ruthless forces of the Evil One. As in every occupied land, the perilous work of the Resistance is imperative. Tugdual Derville (one of the leaders of the pro-family and pro-life movement in France, and a leader of Manif Pour Tous that has organized massive demonstrations in France over the last couple of years against legislation that would dramatically change the definition of marriage) has said: “ … it is well worth it to sacrifice for the common good … it is important for every citizen to be committed to influencing the course of history.”

We may well feel that this places us in a state of loneliness, not least because so many Christians are too timid to align themselves with any cause against which the New York Times has already pronounced. As Harry Blamires put it, in his book The Christian Mind, “It is not lonely to disagree with other people … But it is desperately lonely to occupy a field of discourse which no one else will enter, even if you are surrounded by people who have reached exactly the same conclusion as yourself.” And he adds that this is a crucial aspect of the thinking Christian’s dilemma in the contemporary world.

Just before the outbreak of World War Two the poet T.S. Eliot (in an appendix to his lectures on The Idea of a Christian Society) wrote that: “We are all dissatisfied with the way in which the world is conducted: … some believe that if we trust ourselves to politics, sociology or economics we shall only shuffle from one makeshift to another. And here is the perpetual message to the Church: to affirm, to teach and to apply, true theology. We cannot be satisfied to be Christians at our devotions and merely secular reformers all the rest of the week, for there is one question that we need to ask ourselves every day and about whatever business. The Church has perpetually to answer this question: to what purpose were we born? What is the end of Man?”

Rod Dreher says that “We live in interesting times”. Interesting? Certainly they are strange times; and we, like Ruth amid the alien corn,  are exiles in a strange land. That, in itself, is nothing new. St. Peter told the very first generation of Christians that they were “aliens and exiles”. The writer to the Hebrews told his people that “here we have no abiding city, but we seek the city that is to come”. Owen Chadwick, once more: “Religion, taught Keble, if it be true religion, is never popular … God and the world are sundered far. Face it that the Christians are a protest against the society in which they live. Face it that their kingdom is not of this world … Ye are strangers and pilgrims … You have no long time to stay. … What doth it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

What shall we do? We could wait, perhaps, for God to send us a new St. Francis or a new St. Dominic to convert our hard-hearted, cynical, hedonistic, society with the winsome loveliness of the Gospel of Life. But there is great risk in mere passivity. As Matthew Arnold said of The Scholar Gypsy:

Thou waitest for the spark from heaven to fall; and we,

Light half-believers of our casual creeds,

Who never deeply felt, nor clearly willed ..

Who hesitate and falter life away,

And lose tomorrow the ground won today –

Ah! do not we, wanderer! await it too.”

The study of history provides us with an essential sense of perspective; but it also reminds us of the cataclysms of the past and of how the Catholic Faith has survived them. Rod Dreher suggests, very cogently, that we need a new St. Benedict. There is much about our current culture which should remind us of the collapse and fall of ancient Rome, and it was in those chaotic days, around 500 AD that young Benedict abandoned his studies and left home. He understood the real meaning and worth of the dissolute and licentious lives of his companions. Though he had wealth and the means at his disposal for a career as a Roman noble, he left Rome in order to find some place away from the corrupted and corrupting life of the great city. From that beginning grew the great Benedictine Order. Monasteries were founded, and these kept the light of faith and learning alive through that part of history known as the Dark Ages – so that, in God’s time, civilization was re-founded.

How can we take that Benedictine model and adapt it for use in our exile in the darkness of this strange land and under increasingly hostile conditions? We cannot all become monks and nuns. Very few of us can abandon families, homes, work and careers.

But we have, in fact, a structure immediately to hand. It is the Parish. This is not the moment to set out a precise plan, for that will take prayer, thought and some time. But I do believe that we must immediately consider how we can make our parishes into more intensive and intentional communities, with a much greater degree of common life than we generally experience. As with the Benedictine religious, it will require us to live by Rule and by vows.

Secondly, and at least as important, I do not believe that we can abandon our children to the secular education system as it is currently developing. If we do so, they will be irretrievably corrupted. I do not pretend to know the practicalities of how this may be achieved. But perhaps the provision of Catholic schools should become the very top item in the Church’s budgets and priorities. In addition, we should do every thing possible to encourage home schooling, providing support, infrastructure and curriculum materials.

By such means it may be indeed be yet possible for us to sing the Lord’s song in a strange land.


Let me end, as I began, with the words of Owen Chadwick: “Despite all that has happened … it is still impossible to doubt God’s reality and God’s power; the Lord is King though the people be impatient; he sitteth between the cherubim, be the earth never so unquiet. God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, begotten not made, being of one substance with the Father. The great Nicene words are as powerful now as long ago. The truths by which we learned to live are truths still.”

A footnote:

Ephraim Radner writes (vide supra) that “the vitality and moral usefulness of the liberal state is increasingly in question: has this form of rule by procedural decision-making served its purpose and collapsed under the weight of its own outsized reach? We are perhaps about to enter times of political revolution and re-inventing government analogous to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries”.

It is time to read, or to re-read, Eric von Kuehnelt-Leddihn’s magisterial Liberty or Equality.

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ABSOLUTELY NULL AND UTTERLY VOID: Courtesy, Charity, and Truth


Peterborough Cathedral

On September 24th, 1961, I was ordained to the Anglican priesthood in Peterborough Cathedral. It would have been strange, I think, notwithstanding my subsequent ordination as a Catholic priest, to have regarded that day fifty years later as anything other than a day of golden jubilation. Indeed, I reflected, with joy and thanksgiving, on the blessings I had received in my priestly ministry over those fifty years. Of course, in doing so I was aware that some might question the reality or meaning of those years spent in the Anglican ministry, before receiving Catholic ordination to the priesthood in 1994.

My purpose, in writing about this at the time in Salve!, our parish newsletter, was first, and quite simply, to give thanks; certainly, for me, the golden jubilee could not pass without it. But there were two additional purposes: to encourage others who, contemplating the same pilgrimage, might fear that they would be required to disavow the spiritual and grace-giving reality of devoted Anglican ministry; and also to show to those who might well not be at all familiar with Anglo-Catholic thought and life that there is a serious depth and reality to it which should be respected and welcomed.

This, then, being my purpose, I decided not to deal in my article with complicated and sensitive technical questions about the “validity” or otherwise of Anglican Orders, which considerations, while not unimportant, were not relevant to what I was seeking to achieve at that time.

However, a question, not wholly unrelated to all this, has recently arisen: what courtesy, title, respect should be extended to Anglican clergy? The specific occasion of the question was the recent omission of any such dignity being accorded, on the anniversary of his death to the name of a much-loved Anglican pastor — a predecessor of mine in the mid-1970s — who had died suddenly and tragically and for whom his parish community had long grieved. I believe that the term “priest” should – as a matter of courtesy at the very least —  have been appended to his name in that list. On inquiry I learned that this omission was a matter of deliberate policy. I was told that the decision to delete reference to departed, non-Roman clergymen (but I imagine that this would not be extended as far as to the priests of the Eastern Churches!) “was made after conversations with both Monsignor Steenson and Bishop Olson”.

If I discount what Bishop Olson thinks about this issue I intend absolutely no disrespect for him: indeed, I hold him in the very highest regard. Simply, I doubt that he has ever had occasion or opportunity to give more than the most cursory thought to the matter; and I think it most unlikely that he will be aware of the complexities and the implications thereof. I am constantly surprised, however, by the evidence that the leadership of the Ordinariate has only a tenuous foothold in Anglo-Catholic history and its heritage.

I shall turn in a moment to certain historical, ecclesiological aspects of the matter. But, before I do so I must honor the witness of that great company of Anglican clergy – of whom the world was not worthy (cf. Hebrews 11:38) . Consider, for example, the witness of such studies of heroism as are recorded in Michael Yelton’s book Anglican Papalism (Canterbury Press, London, 2005).

One consequence of the success of the Oxford Movement and the work of the Tractarians, especially as this, moving out in the second half of the 19th century, from academia into parish life, laid the foundations for the incarnational ministries in the Anglo-Catholic, sacramentally-oriented parishes of the burgeoning industrial cities (both in the UK and in the USA). The labors of heroic clergy, battling poverty, crime, cholera — doing so, incidentally, with the support and help of the newly-founded Anglican religious orders (the All Saints’ Sisters of the Poor, for example): all this — focused as it was, and however some may judge the reality of these things, in the daily Mass and Office — inevitably raised the question of what was truly the nature of Anglican priesthood. So the question was asked, both by Roman Catholics and by Anglicans (there being some among the latter who felt that a positive response could promote the hope for corporate reunion – for they noted that the Preface to the Prayer Book Ordinal explicitly stated that the apostolic Orders of Bishops, Priests and Deacons were to be “continued, and reverently used and esteemed, in the Church of England”; and that the formula that accompanied the laying of hands was “Receive the Holy Ghost for the office and work of a Priest in the Church of God …”). [Vide infra: Sacramentum Ordinis.]

The Abbé Fernand Portal (a disciple of Newman) whose researches led the Holy See to establish a commission to examine the matter, and the distinguished historian Fr Louis Duchesne who was a member of it, both believed that Anglican Orders were valid. But there can be little doubt that pressure from Cardinal Vaughan (who had succeeded the convert Cardinal Manning as Archbishop of Westminster) and Cardinal Merry de Val finally, in 1896, resulted in Pope Leo XIII’s declaration, in Apostolicae Curae, that Anglican Orders are “absolutely null and utterly void”. So it would seem that the ultimate verdict was clear – at least within the context of its own terms and its own time.


Pope Leo XIII

That might be the end of the story. But, in fact, it is not: for there have been a number of significant and relevant developments since then. Of these developments, only a few need to be mentioned in this context.

The dignified responsio of the Archbishops of Canterbury and York to Pope Leo XIII came, in 1898, in their encyclical Sæpius Officio. In the dénouement, their arguments were ultimately vindicated  by Pope Pius XII in Sacramentum Ordinis – in which he made no reference to the stipulations of Apostolicae Curae; and as Fr Mark Woodruff (a priest of the Catholic Archdiocese of Westminster, and Director of the Catholic League) has pointed out, “we are left in the curious position of a long-standing magisterial document, still held to be binding on Catholics, that has been flatly contradicted by a subsequent pope in a superseding document that also forms part of the ordinary magisterium, that stands as part of the basis for the Vatican II reforms …. Thus, moreover, it is now the principle as to matter, form and intention advanced by the Anglican archbishops in Sepius Officio – the laying on of hands, a designated prayer specific to the order conferred, and the intention to do what the Church does – that is the Catholic teaching established by Pope Pius XII to be held definitively.”

In the early Fall of 1966 I was privileged to serve as Anglican chaplain to an Anglo-French pilgrimage, sponsored by an ecumenical prayer group based in Dinard in Brittany, which spent two weeks visiting French shrines and holy places, of which there are very many. Among these was Aix-les-Bains (close to Lac Bourget, reminding me that, as a schoolboy, I was required to memorize in French Lamartine’s poem about it!), in order to visit there the tomb of Fernand Portal, one of the key figures in the historic Malines Conversations which took place from 1921 to 1927.


The Abbé Fernand Portal

With the tacit and, no doubt, reluctant permission of the Vatican and the Anglican authorities these talks sought to find a way to end the Anglican schism. The participants varied but included on the Anglican side the distinguished Anglo-Catholic layman Lord Halifax, Bishops Frere and Gore, (founder of the Community of the Resurrection) and Dr Armitage Robinson(Dean of Wells) who was personally known to my father.


Archbishop Michael Ramsey

The Catholic participants included Cardinal Mercier, Archbishop of Malines-Brussels (whose episcopal ring was, long after, solemnly given by Pope Paul VI to Archbishop Michael Ramsey in Rome), the Abbé Fernand Portal (previously mentioned in connection with Apostolicae Curae), and Dom Lambert Beauduin.


Dom Lambert Beauduin

The latter, in 1925 (the same year that he founded Chevetogne Abbey), contributed to the Malines Conversations an immensely important essay entitled L’Eglise Anglicane unie, non absorbée, which has continuing resonance through Anglicanorum Cœtibus. For a full account of this and of related ecumenical matters, see Unity: A History and Some Reflections, by Maurice Villain (Harvill Press, London, 1961).


Paul Couturier, the Apostle of Unity

My Anglo-French ecumenical pilgrimage included a visit to Lyon, to visit sites associated there with “The Apostle of Unity”, Fr Paul Couturier who died in 1953 and to pray at his tomb. Fr Couturier  had first become interested in ecumenism through Chevetogne Abbey and its concern for relationship with the Eastern Churches. Subsequently he became familiar with the large post-1917 emigré White Russian Orthodox community in Lyon. (He taught physics there, at the Institution des Chartreux, where he began every lecture with the recitation of the Veni, Creator in Latin.) Founder of the Groupe des Dombes, he devoted his life to spiritual ecumenism. Fr Couturier worked very closely with an Anglican priest, a monk of the Community of the Resurrection at Mirfield, Fr Geoffrey Curtis whom I knew very slightly and who wrote Couturier’s biography. (See Fr Curtis’ contribution, on Baptism and Unity, to the Mirfield Essays in Christian Belief, published by Faith Press, London, 1962.)

A footnote here: The pilgrimage ended back where it began, in Dinard on the Emerald Coast of Brittany – which, for many years, was the home of Lady Curtis, Fr Curtis’ mother.

Now I turn to the decisive event of July 2, 1931, the Bonn Agreement, establishing full communion between the Church of England and the Old Catholic Churches of the Union of Utrecht, including the Old Catholic Church of the Netherlands. This full communion was then extended to all members of the Anglican Communion through the synods. The Old Catholic Churches had valid orders that were universally acknowledged; and, from 1932 onwards, Old Catholic bishops took part in the laying-on of hands in all Anglican consecrations to the episcopate, until the time was reached — probably around 1969 — when every Anglican bishop in the world could trace his apostolic succession through both the Anglican and the Old Catholic lines.

At the first of these consecrations, in 1932, the Old Catholic participants signed the following protocol (the purpose of which was to clarify their intention to convey Catholic Order):

Porro ne futuris temporibus quaestiones vel controversiae circa modum externum consociationis Nostrae cum praedicto Domino Archiepiscopo Cantuariensis et cum Reverendissimis confratribus eius Episcopalis Anglicanus in dicto consecrationis epis-copalis actu oriantur, testamur Nos ambas manus, utpote consecratorum aeque principlem, in capita praedictorum Reverendorum Georgii Francisci Graham Brown et Bertrami Fitzgerald Simpson simul cum Domino Archiepiscopo Cantuarensi et assistentibus eius episcopis imposuisse, atque verba consecrationis episcopalis quae in Pontificali Ecclesiae Vetero-catholicae Batavensis praescripta sunt, scilicet ACCIPE SPIRITUM SANCTUM, non arbitrio nostro privato sed Ecclesiae Vetero-catholicae legibus obtemporantes, clara voce, ita ut a circumstantibus audiri possent, et Latina lingua protulisse, uno atque tempore quo praedictus Dominus Archiepiscopus verba consecrationis in Ordinale Anglicana praescripta pronuntiaret.

Thus the intention to convey Catholic Order is explicit and clear. Handsomely inscribed and bound in leather, copies were placed in the Lambeth Palace Library (MS 3414) and in the Registries of the Province of Canterbury and of the Archbishop of Utrecht. For a more detailed account of the 1932 Consecrations, see Accipe Spiritum Sanctum: Historical Essays on the Agreements of Bonn and Meissen, by Brian Taylor (Guildford: St Thomas’s Trust, 1995).

On the ecumenical pilgrimage, to which I referred above, my French counterpart, the Catholic chaplain, was Abbé Emmanuel Gaudin – a school chaplain from Rennes. He and I became close friends during the days of our travels together. Then, and in subsequent correspondence, he always addressed me as “Father”. While we were in Lyon we visited the cathedral there. I had told him about the Bonn Accord and all that had come from it. He took me by the hand, led me to a seat before the altar and said: “You are very priest”.

At this point it could be argued that Apostolicae Curae had, for the time being (but see below) become a dead-letter, since it had, in effect, been overtaken by events. Writing in May 1982 in The Tablet, an English Catholic weekly magazine, Timothy Dufort argued that a way was open for the recognition of the Orders then held in the Church of England without the necessity of contradicting Pope Leo XIII‖. He advanced several reasons for this argument. But the bottom line was that Old Catholic bishops, recognized as valid by Rome, having acted as co-consecrators in these episcopal consecrations, all Anglican bishops were now also in the Old Catholic succession. He argued that Apostolicae Curae had been overtaken by events.


Father John Jay Hughes

Then there is the case of Father John Jay Hughes — a friend who has visited us at St Mary the Virgin, Arlington, on more than one occasion. Father John Jay Hughes, among a few other Roman Catholic writers, had concluded that there were enough flaws in, and ambiguity surrounding, the Pope‘s apostolic letter that the question of the invalidity of Anglican Orders merited re-examination at least. The son and grandson of Episcopal priests, Father Hughes himself had previously been an Anglican priest and was, precisely because of these considerations, subsequently conditionally (sub conditione) ordained in 1968 in the Roman Catholic Church (in Germany, by the Bishop of Münster).


Basil, Cardinal Hume O.S.B.

The late Cardinal Basil Hume (who, as Benedictine Abbot of Ampleforth had been a neighbor and friend of my father and our family), the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Westminster, suggested that the conclusions of Apostolicae Curae could only relate to the situation in 1896 and that the involvement of Old Catholic bishops in Anglican ordinations since the Bonn Agreement in the 20th century, along with changes of the Anglican consecratory prefaces, have re-established apostolic succession within Anglicanism. Archbishop Hume said in 1978: “I could not in practice dismiss all Anglican Orders as ‘null and void’ because I know that a number of Anglican Bishops have in fact had the presence at their ordination of an Old Catholic or an Orthodox bishop, that is, somebody who, in the traditional theology of our Church, has been ordained according to a valid rite. As far as the Roman Catholic Church is concerned, I think it needs to look carefully again at Apostolicae Curae and its status. We need to discover whether the historical background upon which it was working and the argumentation upon which it was based is consonant with historical and theological truth as theologians and historians see it today.”

As the Second Vatican Council’s Decree on Ecumenism put it: “not a few of the liturgical actions [of brethren divided from the Catholic Church] can truly engender a life of grace … and must be regarded as capable of providing access to the community of salvation.”


Monsignor Graham Leonard, former Anglican Bishop of London

I was privileged to know, quite well, Graham Leonard, the former Anglican Bishop of London. He became a Roman Catholic after retirement and, in 1994, he was ordained a priest by Cardinal Hume. This ordination — per saltum, by the way — was conditional due to “prudent doubt” about the invalidity of his ordination in the Church of England. Rome agreed with Cardinal Hume’s assessment that there was uncertainty in, at least, some cases. At the ordination in Westminster Cathedral, prior to the Litany of the Saints, Cardinal Hume inserted the following words which he himself had devised:

“The Holy Catholic Church recognizes that not a few of the sacred actions of the Christian religion as carried out in the communities separated from her can truly engender a life of grace and can rightly be described as providing access to the community of salvation. And so we now pray –

“Almighty Father, we give you thanks for the years of faithful ministry of your servant in the Anglican Communion, whose fruitfulness for salvation has been derived from the very fullness of grace and truth entrusted to the Catholic Church. As your servant has been received into full communion and now seeks to be ordained to the presbyterate in the Catholic Church, we beseech you to being to fruition that for which we now pray….”


Bishop Joseph P. Delaney

Very soon afterwards, Bishop Joseph Delaney used precisely these words of Cardinal Hume, in St Patrick’s Cathedral, at my own ordination to the Catholic priesthood on June 29, 1994. My ordination to the Anglican priesthood had taken place in England at the hands of the Lord Bishop of Peterborough — Robert Stopford who had been consecrated for the suffragan see of Fulham in 1955, one of whose co-consecrators had been the Old Catholic Archbishop Rinkel of Utrecht.


Bishop Robert Stopford

Interestingly, I had to provide the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith with full information about this. Nevertheless, my ordination, unlike that of Graham Leonard, was not conditional — largely because it was made clear that the process would be complex, and that verification could take some time. So, with my parish awaiting erection, a request to be ordained absolutely was the right course.

And now — as many may think, tragically — water has again flowed under the bridge. The Bonn Agreement might well have cut the Gordian knot of Apostolicae Curae; and reconsideration in the light of it was promised. But — and in spite of appeals such as Inter Insigniores and Ordinatio Sacerdotalis — Cardinal Kasper revealed to the 2008 Lambeth Conference that  “While our dialogue has led to significant agreement on the understanding of ministry, the ordination of women to the episcopate effectively and definitively blocks a possible recognition of Anglican Orders by the Catholic Church”.

So the witness and the verdict of Pope Leo XIII remain.

But … as a priest-friend has so eloquently put it: “It is petty-minded pedantry to decline to use the word ‘priest’ of our fathers and brethren. I am always punctilious in referring to Anglican friends as ‘brother priests’. And to my ordaining bishop as bishop. And I intend, if God preserves me, to celebrate the Golden Jubilee of my Priesthood in 2018!!” [My emphasis.]

I have recently received a copy of an article (dated February 16, 2008) from Southern Cross, a publication of the Catholic Diocese of Savannah. The article recounts the life of Father W. T. St. John Brown who died ten years ago and who was one of the instrumental and foundational pioneers of the Pastoral Provision, the precursor of Anglicanorum Cœtibus; and it recounts his ordination as a Catholic priest in June 1992 – a wonderful event at which I was privileged to be present – by Bishop Gracida in Corpus Christi. This Catholic publication referred throughout the article to “W.T.”, as he was affectionately known, as Father Brown – both before and after his reception —  and refers to his Episcopal priesthood.

The incomparable Fr John Hunwicke wrote recently in his blog:

“My view (is that) we of the Ordinariate are Anglicans in full communion with the See of Peter …. My instinct is based on a lifetime of longing for the realization of the vision set before us by Dom Lambert Beauduin and taken up by Cardinal Mercier in the Malines Conversations, of an Anglicanism united but not absorbed.”

Fr. Hunwicke continues:

“It seems to me that the whole grammar of what Benedict XVI set up, with its culture of rapid admission to the priestly life of the Catholic Church upon the presentation of one’s Letters or Orders from one’s Anglican Ordination [my emphasis], points to the duty of consolidating a strong group identity … (the synchronic side of things).

“Moreover, being in the Ordinariate carries with it the duty of a strong sense of identity with, and continuity from, our past (the diachronic). That is why I keep hammering on about our great ‘Patrimony’ teachers; not only Blessed John Henry Newman but also [Edward Bouverie] Pusey and [John] Keble and [John Mason] Neale, [Dom Gregory] Dix [who formed two generations of militant Anglo-Catholics] and [Austin] Farrer and [Eric] Mascall … [C.S.] Lewis and Dorothy Sayers [whom I remember as a visitor to our home when I was very young] … separated Doctors of Catholic Truth. Not to mention [the Royal Martyr King] Charles Stuart and [Archbishop] William Laud. Oh, and let’s not forget Thomas Ken and the Non-Jurors.”

There are, then, no conceivable grounds for regarding our Anglican heritage and the heroic achievements and sufferings of so many as a story to be regretted or hidden, or to deny to those who took part in it the honors, titles and respect which is their due.

Albert Branshaw, Priest: may you rest in peace.

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