Some Art Historical Musings About the Bent Cross. Is It Expressive or Satanic?

In April of this year, Pope Francis began carrying the rough-hewn silver papal staff that is shown in the above photo to some of his public appearances. This staff isn't new. It has been carried by four popes since Pope Paul VI. Partway through Pope Benedict XVI's reign, the staff was temporarily retired. Some critics of the staff's design are decidely not happy to see it back in use again.

Storms of controversy have always swirled around the staff's design. Some critics of the staff are disturbed by how the corpus, the figure of Christ, is distorted and how the crossbar of the cross is bent. Some believe that the distortions are appropriately expressive of the intense weight of the burden of our sins that Christ bore on the Cross, while others believe that the distortions and what they call the "bent cross" are Satanic in origin and intent. My intention here is to describe the origins of this disputed papal staff, and show some of its artistic predecessors in hopes of setting the record straight. Like it or not, it is a valid sacred symbol.

Paul VI, Lello Scorzelli, and the Commission of the Pastoral Staff

As mentioned above, Pope Paul VI was the first to carry this staff, which was created for him by sculptor Lello Scorzelli.  As I discovered when I started researching this post, Paul VI was an active patron of the arts like many popes before him. While he was still Archbishop Montini, Paul VI began a long association with Scorzelli[1]. Montini first hired Scorzelli in 1959 to make portraits of all the clergy who participated in Vatican II, and those portraits are now in the Vatican Museum.

After he was elected pope, Paul VI gave Scorzelli a studio in the Vatican in 1963, where the sculptor lived for 15 years. Scorzelli executed several big works during that time, including panels of the Stations of the Cross and the Last Supper for the Pope’s private chapel. The most presigious of Scorzelli's pieces by far were four bas-reliefs Scorzelli created for Porta della Preghiera, which is one of the five doors of St. Peter's Basilica. (Two other doors of St. Peter were also commissioned from other artists by Pope Paul VI.)[2].

However, the most well known of all of Scorzelli's creations for Paul VI is the papal staff.

 The Staff with the Upward Curving Crossbar

Paul VI Pastoral Staff

What is not as well known  is that Pope Paul VI actually used multiple staffs with a similar hanging corpus, one with straight cross bar, and another with a crossbar that curved upward [3].

Staff with upward-curving crossbar

The staff with the downward curving crossbar is the only one that continued in use by popes after Paul VI's reign.











The History of Papal Staffs

It is significant to realize that before Paul V previous popes did not use staffs, which are also called ferulas. According to an article title "The Staff"  at the Vatican website,  the staff has been the liturgical insignia of bishops and abbots since at least the seventh century, but not of popes.  "The reason why the pope did not use the staff resides in the fact that the staff was a symbol of investiture of a newly elected bishop given to him by the metropolitan archbishop or by another bishop ... . The pope, however, did not receive investiture from another bishop. ... The pope receives his power from God alone."

Around the time of the High Middle Ages or earlier, the "traditional crozier came into use as an expression of papal authority. ... The use of the staff [crozier] was never a part of the papal liturgy, except on some occasions such as the opening of the Holy Door and the consecration of churches." With all that historical precedent I'm sure firmly in mind, Pope Paul VI invented a new type of staff, and he first used it at the closing of the Second Vatican Council. Paul VI's new staff was called a pastoral staff, and he used the papal pastoral staff in most liturgical celebrations.

After Pope Paul VI died, Pope John Paul I used the pastoral staff of Paul VI  during his month-long reign, and Pope John Paul II took it up when he was elected to the office after his predecessor's death. And the staff with the downward curving cross bar is most identified with him.

Partway through his reign, Pope John Paul II started using a lighter modified copy of the staff. Pope Benedict also carried the staff with the downward curving cross for several years (although it is not clear whether the one he used was the original or the copy). 

Pope Benedict XVI with the Staff of Paul VI

Then in 2008, Pope Benedict XVI made more liturgical history when he started using the crozier of Pope Pius IX, which bears a traditional cross without a corpus.  This was not a totally unprecedented departure, since this crozier had been used by  Pope John XXIII in some liturgical celebrations during Vatican II.  In 2009, Benedict XVI, began to use a new staff that was similar in style to the Pius IX crozier. And now the current pope is using the Paul VI pastoral staff alternately with the Pius IX-style crozier of Benedict XVI.



Satanic Symbol? Come On, Do You Really Think So?

Some have expressed a hatred and misunderstanding about the so-called bent cross on the pastoral staff that Pope Francis has begun to carry. Some seem to despise it just as a modernist piece of bad art.

Others go so far as to claim that the bent cross is a deliberately chosen Satanic symbol. A 1983 book that makes this extravagent claim is quoted by some extreme Protestant sects who use it to support their claims hat the Church is the anti-Christ.  Satanists, they claim, twist our holy symbols to pervert them, and the distorted corpus denotes the anti-Christ.  They claim that the reason that last four popes after the second Vatican council carried this staff with the bent cross is that the Vatican has been infiltrated with satanists.

These fantastic ideas have even been picked up by some traditionalist Catholics of my acquaintance. I ask them how they can believe such things and still be Catholic, and I haven't heard a satisfactory answer yet.

The Actual Truth
The actual truth seems to be that the distorted figure of Christ on the controversial papal staff was based on a drawing made by the great Carmelite mystic monk, St. John of the Cross, from a vision that he had of Christ crucified.

One reason John Paul II  liked this staff may be that he himself almost became a Carmelite contemplative, before he was told by his bishop that the Church needed him to stay in the world instead of be cloistered away in a monastery. The title of the doctoral dissertation written by Karol Wotyla, the future pope, was titled Faith in the Mystical Writings of Saint John of the Cross.

Papal Pastoral Staff or Crozier by Taylor Marshall is a good article that speculates on the source of the bent cross design. Marshall mentioned Salvador Dali's painting Christ of St. John of the Cross without showing it.  The image below is from the surprisingly good Wikipedia article about Salvador Dali's painting. Notice that in Dali's depiction of the suffering body of Christ on the Cross, the corpus is bent but not the cross.

Marshall also posted the Grunewald crucifixion, without specifically attributing it as an inspiration for the bent cross. But really, all you have to do is look at it to grasp the connection between the Grunewald painting and the Scorzelli staff.

 

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[1] Article on Scorzelli's life and work
[2] Italian article about Saint Peter's with a description of the basilica's five doors.
[3[ Details about the papal staffs used by Paul VI 
[4] Article from the Vatican website from November 2013 titled "The Staff."

Death's on Your Doorstop

This afternoon, my front doorbell rang multiple times, insistently. Liberty mumbled, "That's annoying" and went to answer the door. The man on the front steps asked him, "Do you speak Spanish?" "No," Liberty said. The visitor handed him the following pamphlet and left without saying anything.

Cover of the pamphlet

When Liberty showed this picture to me, he wondered what would have happened if he had replied yes, he does speak Spanish. He quipped that the visitor then would have revealed himself as the Mexican grim reaper and would have taken a scythe to his head.

All joking aside, it is true that Death can appear on any of our doorsteps at any moment, as this quote from my friend Evangeline's email signature says: "Since everything here today might well be gone tomorrow, do you see how essential it is to live a holy life?"

Is living a holy life the way to get to heaven and avoid hell? The little pamphlet with the grim reaper on the cover claims that all you need to do for salvation is to believe in Jesus and accept Jesus as your personal savior. The pamphlet quotes Ephesians 2:8-10: "For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast." And it quotes number of other verses that are frequently used to try to prove only faith is needed. In Latin, that belief is referred to as sola fide. Protestants sometimes refer to the related notion that we cannot lose our salvation as "blessed assurance" or "once saved always saved (OSAS)." OSAS is not a Catholic doctrine. During my sojourn as a fundamentalist Christian when I was (unknowningly) on my way back to the Catholic Church, I scoffed at the Catholic teachings and accused the Church of teaching Eternal Jeopardy.

Catholics don't usually memorize Bible verses the way Protestants do, and so they can easily get led astray by someone who appears at the front door with a string of Bible verses ready to support whatever interpretation their denomination believe in.

You should know that taking a verse or a number of verses out of context from the Bible to prove a point is called proof texting. Catholics have to keep in mind that the teachings of the Catholic Church are based on the entire revelation of Christ, including both Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition, not on isolated verses cherry picked from books of the Bible and strung together. The Church teaches we are saved by faith in Jesus Christ and the Sacrament of Baptism is necessary, but that we also need to "work out our salvation in fear and trembling." A person who lapses into sin after Baptism and does not repent is in as much danger of eternal damnation as if he never believed.

People that believe in OSAS have trouble with the actual doctrine taught by Christ's Church. My friend, Rita, told me a few days ago about a now-fervent Catholic who almost walked out of classes that she was taking to prepare for being received into the Catholic Church when she first discovered that Catholic church does not teach "once saved always saved."

The truth is what St. James wrote in his second letter, verses 14-24. Faith of itself, if it does not have works, is dead.

"Being saved" is a Protestant formulation anyway. Christ died to redeem us from sin and death. But we need to become like Him. We are going to be judged and deemed worthy or not of heaven by works, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked. These are the actual words of Christ [Matthew 25:31-46]

No matter what the pamphlets may say, we do not get an automatic pass into heaven if we merely accept Jesus as our personal savior. "Not every one that said to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that does the will of my Father which is in heaven. Matthew 7:23

My reading of some of the writings of Luther gave me to understand that Luther struggled unsuccessfully with sins of impurity. To me it seems obvious that his doctrine that Christ's sacrifice hides our sinfulness from God the Father was formulated from his losing battle. Luther rejected books of the Bible that contradicted his formulations. Because St. James's 2nd letter denied OSAS, Luther dismissed it as "the epistle of straw."

This is a good discussion of the issue on Catholic Forum

This link has the entire 2nd letter of St. James. Read for yourself.

St. James also quotes Jesus as saying even the devils believe. And they certainly aren't saved.

Some Reasons It Was Hard to Return to the Church After Vatican II

Today's post is a response to a Canterbury Tales blog from May 6, 2013, titled: "Ten Reasons Why It's Hard to Become Catholic." 

I was a lapsed Catholic, then I relapsed to Catholicism. For several years I believed in society's message that there is no God, then I dabbled in odd and dangerous spiritual alternatives to Christianity for a while. After I became converted to Christianity, I spent several more years as an evangelical Protestant, and so the things Taylor Caldwell wrote here ring true to me.

I had left the Catholic Church in 1963, and I came back to the Catholic faith in 1980 or so. To my dismay, the Church of my childhood with its liturgy and certainties and dogmas was apparently gone. I had come back because the good zealous Protestant denominations I had tried were contradicting one another all over the place because they lacked Tradition as a guide and because the Eucharist was to be found nowhere else than in the Catholic Church.

I attended several RCIA programs and was shocked at most of what I heard and saw. For just one example,  I heard from one converted Lutheran RCIA leader that Jesus was just an itinerant  Jewish story teller.  Nope, sorry sir. Jesus is God made Man, and while He was on this earth, He told stories. That didn't make him merely an itinerant Jewish story teller.

Jesus Teaches About the Kingdom of God

And I was discouraged by Novus Ordo Catholics who thought my faith in the Bible was outmoded.  I quipped (to myself) that as far as I could tell the only Catholics left were me and the Pope, and sometimes I wasn't too sure about the Pope. Many of the Catholics I met seemed to be living the world's morality, to my dismay

If I hadn't had the good Catholic education I'd obtained as a child behind me, I may have thought the new Church was right. But I was well-grounded. And I was in love with Christ in His Body the Church, and so even if nobody else I ran into believed any more what I had been taught, I stayed like Peter because where else was I to go? In prayer in my isolation, Christ taught me that in the midst of bad liturgy and bad theology (in the purported spirit of Vatican II) I was to climb up on the Cross and find my comfort with Him.

By God's providence, I was eventually led to start singing with a Gregorian chant choir that sang the propers of the traditional liturgical year during Novus Ordo Masses. Eventually I was led from there to sing in a small schola at a Traditional Latin Mass. In the small oratory where the schola sings, I have finally found people who sincerely accept the teachings of the Magisterium on birth control and other morality, along with the unchanged dogma and pious practices of the Church. It is a joy to be surrounded by families with large numbers of happy, bright, accomplished, mostly homeschooled children who haven't been contracepted or aborted out of existence. And kindnesses abound. People help the large families with gifts of money and food, and with other expenses like orthodontia. And when one choir member died, people chipped in and made the arrangements for a Requiem Mass and Catholic burial, since the family was going to cremate him without ceremony. The corporal and spiritual works of mercy are being acted out.

I marvel  that I had to wander in the desert after my relapse  for about 25 years, between 1980 and 2005, until I found this oasis.

What I want to say is that if anyone who reads this has come back or come newly to the Catholic Church and is not happy with the liturgy or dogma he's finding, I suggest you should google for traditional Latin Mass locations near you, and try to get connected to the true believers you are likely to find there.

A traditional priest will probably give you instruction, if you ask, rather than delegate the instruction to an RCIA leader who might just be too fond of spouting his own erroneous ideas about how the Church has changed instead of teaching the authentic doctrine of the Catholic Church. 

Beyond Salve Regina: The Four Great Seasonal Marian Antiphons

Most traditional Catholics know how to sing Salve Regina. But did you know Salve Regina is only one of a total of four great seasonal Marian antiphons? Alma Redemptoris Mater, Ave Regina Caelorum, and Regina Caeli are the other three.

Each of the four Marian antiphons has a season assigned to it during the liturgical year. Traditional Latin Masses usually end with the appropriate Marian antiphon for the season. In the Divine Office, the Marian antiphon of the season is sung after Vespers and Compline.

Roughly stated, the dates of each Marian antiphon are:

• Alma Redemptoris Mater (Advent through February 2)
• Ave Regina Caelorum (February 3 until the Easter Vigil)
• Regina Coeli (Easter until the Saturday after Pentecost Sunday) 

        Note: Between Easter and Pentecost, the Regina Caeli replaces the Angelus.

• Salve Regina (Trinity Sunday --which is the Sunday after Pentecost Sunday) until the Saturday before Advent)
  

Each antiphon has two versions: a simple tone and a solemn (or monastic) tone. In my experience, at the end of a Mass the Marian antiphon is sung in the simple tone. In the Divine Office, the Marian antiphon may be sung in either the simple or the solemn tone.

You can find the chant for the Marian antiphons in the Liber Usualis. Buying a copy of the Liber can be expensive, around $200. But the good news is that you can download a PDF for free from The Church Music Association of America website.

This post has the the music and links to music videos for each of the antiphons.

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Latin and English Words to the Antiphons

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Alma Redemptoris Mater, quae pervia caeli porta manes et stella maris, succurre cadenti, surgere qui curat, populo: tu quae genuisti, natura mirante, tuum sanctum genitorem, Virgo prius, ac posterius, Gabrielis ab ore sumens illud ave, peccatorum miserere.

Holy mother of our Redeemer, thou gate leading to heaven and star of the sea; help the falling people who seek to rise, thou who, all nature wondering, didst give birth to thy holy Creator. Virgin always, hearing the greeting from Gabriel’s lips, take pity on sinners.

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Ave Regina Caelorum, ave domina angelorum: salve radix, salve porta, ex qua mundo lux est orta: Gaude Virgo, gloriosa, super omnes speciosa, vale o valde decora, et pro nobis Christum exora.

Hail, queen of heaven, hail lady of the angels. Hail, root, hail the door through which the Light of the world is risen. Rejoice, glorious Virgin, beautiful above all. Hail, O very fair one, and plead for us to Christ.

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Regina Caeli, laetare, alleluia; quia quem meruisti portare, alleluia; resurrexit sicut dixit, alleluia; ora pro nobis Deum, alleluia.

Queen of heaven, rejoice, alleluia; for He whom thou was chosen to bear, alleluia; has risen as He said, alleluia; pray for us to God, alleluia.

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Salve Regina, mater misericordiae, vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra salve. Ad te clamamus, exules filii Evae. Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes, in hac lacrimarum valle. Eia ergo, advocate nostra, illos tuos misericordes oculos, ad nos converte. Et Jesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, nobis post hoc exsilium ostende. O Clemens, o pia, o dulcis virgo Maria.

Hail holy queen, mother of mercy, hail our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this vale of tears. Turn then most gracious advocate, thine eyes of mercy towards us. And after this, our exile, show unto us the blessed fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, o loving, o sweet Virgin Mary.

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Some interesting additional details are in this post.

And this.

Flannery O'Connor an Abbess? Maybe Anchorite, not Abbess

My Amazon Review of the Book: Abbess of Andalusia from December 14, 2012

The misuse of the word abbess in the title might help explain why this book doesn't totally sit right with me. This definition of abbess from Wikipedia is as good as any: "An abbess (Latin abbatissa, feminine form of abbas, abbot) is the female superior, or mother superior, of a community of nuns, often an abbey." Obviously, from this definition of the word, Flannery O'Connor was not even metaphorically an abbess. Perhaps the title was suggested by the book's editor or by the publisher. Accepting such a title, or worse yet, choosing it, indicates to me that that the author might have a bit of a tin ear when it comes to word definitions.

Anchorite might be a better word. "[S]omeone who, for religious reasons, withdraws from secular society so as to be able to lead an intensely prayer-oriented, ascetic, and--circumstances permitting--Eucharist-focused life. As a result, anchorites are usually considered to be a type of religious hermit."

But then, Flannery did not abandon the world, her illness wrested her away from it. After having some success as a writer, she had been living among the fast-living intelligentsia of her era, and perhaps she would have been influenced in the wrong direction had she stayed with them. Circumstances that forced her to return home to live with her mother in an out-of-the-way Georgia farmhouse as an invalid were perhaps her salvation. If she had a dark night of the soul as a result, she was too tough to mention it. She was a reluctant anchorite, maybe. Stolidly resigned anchorite, more likely. But that wouldn't look as good as a book title: "Resigned Anchorite--Flannery O'Conor's Spiritual Journey."

As a product of the assimilationist world of Catholic believers in which I was raised in the 1950s, I have always been astounded at O'Connor's deep conviction about the truth of the doctrines of the Catholic Church and her passion to communicate these truths through her fiction and her letters. What also amazes me is that she had these strong convictions as a resident of the mostly Protestant South. How about this as a possible title? "The Odd Catholic in Georgia: Flannery O'Connor's Spiritual Journey." I think it was Baudelaire who said that he wrote in meter because restrictions free a writer. That thought could be seen as applying to O'Connor's life too. Constrained with the limits of her life, she created an impressive body of spiritually charged work that ranks high in American and world literature.

I've read much of what has been written about Flannery O'Connor, and I didn't learn a great deal from this book that I didn't already know. However, the book includes many new details from previously unavailable sources, which are good to see. And the author makes a laudable and generally successful attempt to use the new details to illustrate how O'Connor lived out her faith and used her talents in the small ways that were available to her. I believe this book makes a unique contribution to the body of O'Connor criticism.

Today is the Feast of St. Ambrose

In honor of today's feast, I'm posting a memoir piece I wrote in the year 2000 after my trip to Italy, because it mentions the tomb of St. Ambrose and two early Christian martyrs whose burial place was revealed to Ambrose in a vision.

Three clothed skeletons were lying side by side.... This was my first sight of the bones of St. Ambrose [and] the remains of the martyrs St. Gervais and St. Protasius

Going to Italy and Coming Home

Going

We flew Air France. It was my first time on that carrier. On the flight to Rome via Paris everything seemed better than on any other airline I'd ever flown on.

Before serving dinner, the attendants gave us a menu written in French in one side and English on the other. The food seemed far above ordinary airline food. It was French! There was pate! The creamy stuff that looked and tasted like raisin pudding was called mousse!

Liberty didn't share my enthusiasm, but then he was glumly pondering the upcoming 12 or so hours without a cigarette. I, on the other hand, was in some sort of delusionary state in which the melamine cups seemed to be china and the coffee served in those cups was the best I'd ever had!

I was delighted that, after serving the meal, the attendants passed up and down the aisles again offering extra bread. How sophisticated of them: They were speaking French! It was French bread!

"Plus du pain?" "Mais oui, s'il vous plait!" More bread! Yes! Please!

A happy blond baby girl of about a year old sat quietly on her mother's lap across the aisle from us a few rows towards the front of the airline. She never made a peep. (Liberty conspiratorily whispered a joking comment to me, "I think the baby's on drugs.")

When it was time for the little girl to sleep, an attendant hung a cute little bed with mesh sides for her from the ceiling. The baby went to sleep without protest, and she awoke calmly in the morning as we neared Charles de Gaulle airport. The mother lifted the smiling child out, and the attendants then came and unhooked the little bed and put it away.

The stewardesses and stewards were friendly and smiling as they gave out free wine and beer along with the soft drinks.

The seats had more leg room than usual on a transoceanic carrier. Each seat had its own personal video screen on which you could watch one of four movies in French or English, or you could play games.

As the trip went on, I was amused to find on the menu on my personal video screen a show about exercises to do in your seat without disturbing the other passengers. A slender woman, who was more serene than any human I have ever seen, demonstrated the exercises. As she spoke, she sat absolutely erect in a white gauzy sleeveless top and pants, with her blonde hair tied back. She was barefoot. Her chair was placed on the front deck of a small green wooden boat that was drifting on a tranquil blue-green sea. You could see nothing except the woman, the chair, the drifting boat, the anchor rope, and the sea.

From time to time, the camera would shift away from her to a collection of actors of all ages seated in airplane seats following her instructions.

The camera zoomed in closely as she showed how to shift your weight to one side and tighten one buttock. Now shift to the other side and tighten the other buttock. Now the first buttock again.

The camera moved away to a shot from the back of the actors in the airplane seats, who were rocking from side to side as they tightened one buttock and released, tightened the other buttock and released . . .. I just had to laugh.

The exercise show came to a close with the perfect woman sitting cross-legged on a beach. Rows of white candles in glass hurricane shades formed a half circle in front of her. Palm trees and the ocean were behind her. Her soothing voice led us through a breathing exercise as the camera did a tight shot of her rib cage and as it rose and fell, rose and fell, up and down with her breath. . ..

What a charming airline, I thought. I must fly it again if I ever have the chance. All was well.

Then impressions started to sour a little. Liberty and I were supposed to meet with our tour group in Paris after their flight from LA. We were supposed to fly with them the rest of the way to Rome, but their flight was delayed. The Air France attendants would not give us any advice about whether we should continue on our connecting flight to Rome without the tour group. When I pressed one of the attendants who had been so friendly on our flight, he glared at me and said, "Madame, I have work to do."

We got on the connecting plane reluctantly, not sure that we had done the right thing. As it turned out, we were taken care of. We were met at the airport by a Japanese woman holding a sign with the name of our tour group "Littleways." When we told our greeter that the rest of the group was delayed, she sent us ahead of the group in a van with our luggage to the hotel. After check in, we were pleased to find a balcony in our room, and when we leaned out and looked to the left we could see the dome of St. Peter's. All the hours during our stay there we could hear St. Peter's big, deep bells.

Coming Back

Before leaving Italy 20 days later from Milan, we changed our reservation to return a day earlier than we had planned. Air France, like all of the airlines in Europe, and like Hertz and other companies, does not have a 24 hour 7 day a week phone number. Companies have what they call a "green number," which is toll free. But the toll free phone is answered only during business hours and not on weekends or holidays.

Antonio, our tour guide, told me that even if it wasn't Saturday, no one would be answering the phone. That day January 7, was still part of the holidays. He explained, Italians are at home with their families for the holidays.

The Italian Christmas greeting gives a clue about these matters: "Buon Natale, Buone Feste" literally means "Happy Birthday (of Christ), Happy Feasts!"

The plural word feasts is used because they don't just celebrate one feast at Christmas. They start celebrating eight days before Christmas and end some time after the feast of the Three Wise Men, Ephiphany, on January 6.

Everyone was going back to work on January 9, the next Monday, but on the 7th the feasts were just not yet over yet.

In order to call Air France to make the change in our reservation, I had to first use my AT&T direct card to call the United States and then dial the 800 number for Air France. Because the call was being placed on a phone card from Italy, it was billed at the standard AT&T direct rate for calls from Italy to the US, at around $7.50 for the first minute and about $3.50 for the next minutes. I recently got the bill. That call cost me $24.00!

During that expensive phone call, the Air France clerk told me to be 3 hours early at the airport to go to the counter and pay for the ticketing change and get the new ticket. Fortunately for us, Antonio, the tour group leader, also advised us that 2 hours would be more than enough.

To get to the Milan Linate airport, we ordered a limosine because it cost less than a cab. The driver, another Antonio, was friendly and talkative. We conversed all the way to the airport in a mix of Italian and English:

He was taking the city streets, he said, because the freeway would be jammed that time in the morning. Milan traffic! Boh! Yesterday when he went to the airport, a cab driver crashed into a Volkswagen. He smashed his fists together to show the head on collision. When he repeated the story a second time, it started to dawn on me how painful it must have been for him to witness such a thing. "How terrible," I had to agree.

"Yes," Antonio said, "I saw it!" He mimed the head on collision again. "The cab driver--Kaput!" He paused. But, he said, rallying from his compelling memory of the death to his professional duty, I shouldn't worry. Not with him. He is Number One driver.

No, he doesn't live in Milan, but near the hotel outside the city. Milan proper has problems, he said, pollution, immigrants, crime . . .. In its favor of the old city, I offered my enthusiasm for the cathedral in the city center, with its white lacey Gothic spires and the gold statue of Mary as a young girl on top of its highest pillar. La Nascita della Maria. Que bella chiesa! We had toured it the day before.

Just then, with a pang I remembered a site I had meant to see, and now couldn't. I told him that I was sorry not to have seen the basilica of San Ambrogio (St. Ambrose).

Neither Antonio's English nor my Italian were up to my desire to talk about my interest in St. Ambrose. Ambrose is the highly-venerated patron saint of Milan. His patronage is so deeply rooted in the public mind that even the Communists call themselves "Ambrosini."

I'd learned from my Catholic schooling that in the fourth century St. Ambrose had influenced the conversion of St. Augustine, who in turn had profoundly affected the philosophy of the Roman Catholic Church.

But I'd gotten truly intrigued by Ambrose and his relation to Milan only the previous summer while I was reading a story in a collection of writings from travelers in Italy.

The story "Mediolanum" (which is the Roman word for Milan and means "in the middle of the plain") is by a writer named H. V. Morton from his book _A Traveller in Italy_, which was published in 1964.)

Like Alice in Wonderland, Morton started by doing an ordinary thing on an ordinary day and then was drawn down an unexpected opening into another, mysterious world. The place that Morton chanced into was an antique, sacred place, immensely significant in the history of Milan, a place that exists on another level and almost on another spiritual plane below the present-day bustling streets of Milan. The mysteries in Morton's story were sacred ones.

Morton wrote, "During one of my early-morning walks, I came unexpectedly upon the Ambrosian Basilica. .... Crossing the atrium, I entered a dark Lombardic church, cold as an ice box. As I stood shivering I noticed a glimmer of light under the high altar." Morton followed the light, descended a set of stairs and found himself in a crypt with a number of old women dressed in black who were waiting for early mass to begin.

A man hurried in with a ring of keys. He used four different keys to unlock four different parts of an altar piece, and then he cranked open four metal shutters to reveal what Morton called "one of the world's most awesome survivals.

"Three clothed skeletons were lying side by side upon a bed or bier within a crystal shrine, the central skeleton resting upon a higher level than those its right and left. This was my first sight of the bones of St. Ambrose whose remains have been preserved in the basilica since his death in Mediolanum in 397. . . . The skeletons on either side are the remains of the martyrs St. Gervais and St. Protasius . . . Roman soldiers who died for their faith long before the time even of St. Ambrose."

In the tomb, St. Ambrose is in white, and the martyrs are in red

Another book I read later placed the martyrdoms of the two Roman soldiers in the mid-2nd century A.D. They are lying on either side of St. Ambrose because St. Ambrose had been led by a vision to find their bodies. At the time that St. Ambrose lived nobody knew where their bodies were.

When Morton was writing about his discovery in the 60s, he was surprised to find that most citizens of Milan were not aware either of the presence of the ancient relics of their patron saint Ambrose in his basilica. Since then the word has gotten around.

The editor of __Italy: True Stories of Life on the Road_ notes that nowadays no one is allowed within 4 feet of the glass case, "for security."

It is too bad, I said to the limousine driver, I had so wanted to see the bones of St. Ambrose.

Antonio said "We have time. I will take you there." I should not worry, he assured me. He would accept my Visa as payment.

No, I said. It's better if I do what the airline told me to do, get there early. "But," I said, "if I ever come to Milan again, I will call you." I couldn't miss St. Ambrose a second time. And I would call him, but the second he gave me his last name, I forgot it, I think because I know deep in my heart that I never will go back.

At the airport Antonio parked the limousine and we all got out. After he took out our luggage, Antonio ran my Visa card through his card reader in the trunk of the cab. Liberty gave him a tip.

"What do you feed him?' the driver said about Liberty. "There's nothing to him. Not like me." He gestured at his belly. "Not like me either," I agreed. For a few moments, we shared a comfortable camaraderie between two ample-bellied people, a man and a woman of a certain age.

Then the little credit card machine chirped and typed out its okay. The receipt came out. I signed it, and we had to go.

"Speak Italian," Antonio said to Liberty as a final word of advice.

At Milan's Linate Airport

Both Antonios were right about there having been no need to hurry. The Air France counter was closed for still another hour after we got there. When I inquired, I was told the clerk was having her breakfast. I wished I had known so I could have stayed at the hotel longer to relax and enjoy my breakfast too. Or maybe a side trip to see Saint Ambrose . . ..

I put the time to good use by stopping for a visit at a chapel featured prominently in the airport newsletter. After helping me find the chapel, Liberty went to find someplace to smoke.

The airport newsletter showed pictures and brief biographies of four airline employees of all ages who had recently died from natural causes, along with pictures of priests vested to officiate at their funeral masses. This was unique, the official organ of Milan's Linate airport dedicated to honoring the work and lives and deaths of ordinary people who work there. Maybe this respect for workers is one effort of those Ambrosian communists?

At the chapel entrance was the last of the manger scenes I saw in Italy, which is a country with many, many, mangers on display during the holidays. Mangers are little scenes that portray the birth of Jesus. They always include the baby Jesus, his mother, Mary, and his foster father, Joseph. Almost always they include an ox and lamb, angels, shepherds, sheep and the three kings. Sometimes they include an assemblage of other characters who might have lived in the village near where Jesus was born.

Churches and civic groups vie with each other to see which one can have the biggest or most elaborate manger scene. In my 500+ photos from our trip, I have photos of every manger I came across wherever cameras were allowed. I even have a photo of a sign pointing to a manger from the basilica of St. Anthony in Padua. It reads "Presepio," the word for manger, above a black pointing hand.

Because cameras were forbidden, I hadn't been able to photograph my favorite presepio, the one in St. Mark's duomo in Venice made of murano glass.

Murano, one of the islands in Venice, is reknowned for the skill of its glass blowers. The best hotels and homes around the world boast Murano chandeliers.

I already knew I had found a treasure when I came across the manger scene in St. Mark's and saw its figures are made up of hand blown colored glass.

The Venetian presepio was in a dim area behind the altar rail on a side altar. It's presence was not advertised, and it was mostly unnoticed by the tourists who go through the church by the hundreds. I knelt for over an hour at the altar rail gazing at the nativity scene and praying.

The figure of Our Lady was blue, I remember, and one of the three kings was purple with an orange crown. I felt privileged (as I think Morton had felt privileged by his discovery of the relicts of St. Ambrose in Milan).

As Mark Twain wrote in _Innocents Abroad__, the traveler's greatest joy is to see something not previously seen. Even though the glass manger scene is no secret, it is usually seen only by Catholics attending mass.

Along with the joy of discovery, the beauty of the craftsmanship, and the moment in time that the manger scene portrays when the omnipotent God put aside his glory to be born as a poor child, all touched my heart.

At the Linate airport the day we left Italy, the presepio was set up as a village about 6 feet deep x 8 feet wide. The figures of the 20 or so villagers were about 6 inches tall. A mill wheel revolved in a stream of water. The villagers were motorized too. An old lady drew water from a fountain.

This manger scene was unique in my experience because a 10 inch volcano in front of the stable gave off smoke and red light!

Inside the chapel a sign indicated two divisions, Catholic and other, but there was no physical barrier dividing the two rows of pews. In front of the pews on the Catholic side was a tabernacle with the Blessed Sacrament. The tabernacle was a bronze globe with a tiny red laser light beaming from its center.

As I sat there praying my Morning Prayer from my Liturgy of the Hours, I was pleased that I had a sacred place to come to while I waited for the Air France clerk to get back from her breakfast.

The Last Lap

From the start, even the Air France flight back to Paris didn't seem as nice. The nasality and unintelligibility of the English instructions were now more annoying to me. "Ladies and genylmenn..."

In Paris again, we had to wait 2 or 3 hours at de Gaulle airport. I bought two American magazines with photos of the fireworks at milennium celebrations (which I'd watched on CNN like most of the other people in the world 8 days earlier-- while I was sick with the flu in my hotel room in Rome.)

While I leafed through a French magazine with photos and articles about the freak storm that had taken down hundreds of ancient trees at Versailles and all over France, Liberty found a place to smoke, then came back to the gift store to buy candy to use as a pacifier during the long non-smoking hours to come.

The plane that was taking us back across the Atlantic was smaller than the one that brought us. So much for the extra room between rows. When I lowered the tray, it wouldn't lie flat because it rested on my (ample) stomach.

My mood on the return trip was so changed that the cups no longer seemed at all like china. The coffee was now mediocre at best.

No personal video screens on this flight either: There was a single video screen for every 10 rows, so we all were going to watch the same movie together. My ear phones worked only when I held them pressed into each ear with my index fingers. And even so I had to strain to catch any dialogue.

The attendants were unfriendly. The food this time was below-average for airline food, placing it in the almost-vile category. I only remember a wilted piece of butter lettuce lying limply underneath a scoop of pea and carrot salad dressed with mayonaisse with a metallic taste to it.

When I finally slept, the angle I slept in put a kink in my neck. I woke up with a painfully dry mouth to find I had missed the movie. On the far away video screen I could see the beautiful woman from the exercise video surrounded by candles. I couldn't make out her relaxing words with my crummy ear phones, but I had missed most of the exercise tape anyway.

Long hours later, just before we landed in San Francisco, we heard a hissing sound we'd heard before and hadn't thought much about. Liberty and I discussed it and decided it was the fumigants that the airlines spray before landing an international flight. A minute later, a big blob of white foam plopped down onto my right shoulder on my black wool blazer!

For lack of another option, I used the airline blanket to wipe the foam off. When I looked up and saw more foam dripping from a seam in the overhead compartment, I wiped that off too.

I keep meaning to get around to writing Air France a letter of complaint.

At SFO, a customs officer asked me if I had any meat or fruit. I thought about the mortadella (which in our country is otherwise known as baloney) that I had almost bought as a gift in a roadside stop--near the city of Bologna--and I said no.

The officer must have seen my hesitation; he waved me into the aisle where they look for contraband agricultural items and food stuff. In that aisle an officer asked me again what I had, and I said nothing except chocolates (chocolates are okay). We had to lift all our baggage off the cart from where we'd recently loaded it up onto the belt to go through their x ray machines. Then--after all that--attendants were talking among themselves and didn't inspect the bags as they went through.

To get the rest of the way home from San Francisco, we took the shuttle van that was waiting at the traffic island outside the baggage claim. There were three other passengers.

Our driver must have been well into a double or triple work shift because he kept nodding off and swerving while he was driving. Trying to drop off a journalism student newly arrived from Spain at Hayward State college, the driver couldn't find his way to the student's dorm. Even though we asked him to several times, the driver wouldn't ask for directions from his dispatcher or look at a map. I decided not to report him but I wanted wanted to try to prevent him from putting anyone else through the same ordeal. I also didn't want him to kill himself.

I resolved that when/if he got us home I was going to say to him, "Look I don't want to get you in trouble, but I insist you go home. You are dangerous to yourself and others. If I call the shuttle company in a half hour and find out you are still on duty, I will report you."

But I fell asleep before we got there and was foggy brained when I had to wake up to get out of the shuttle. Liberty politely paid the man and tipped hin, When he got upstairs, to my surprise, he went to the phone immediately and called the shuttle company to report the driver. After he hung up, he said, "I hope I didn't get him fired." I told Liberty what I had planned to do. He said he thought that would have been the better thing to do, but it was too late.

The inattention of the custom's officers turned out to be the proverbial blessing in disguise, because the next day I came across what I thought was a pine cone, which I'd forgotten about in my luggage. I had been fascinated because from the looks of it, I surmised that Italian pine cones are quite different from ours, and without giving it any thought I brought it home from the Borghese Gardens in Rome.

When I showed the pine cone to Liberty the day we got home, we both experienced all the emotions you can imagine as we thought about what might have happened if the customs people had found that in my bag!

When I moved into my house here in San Jose the next year, I saw that the neighbors have a magnolia tree. And on the sidewalk I see many examples of the "Italian pine cones," which turned out to be magnolia cones after all.

Masses at the End of the Year (Revised)

Now we come to the end of the Church’s liturgical year. We are at the end of the season called the “Time after Pentecost,” which is a time when finding the Propers[1] for the Masses can be a bit confusing.

This article provide some guidance that may help make sense of the rules that govern which Propers are said for the Masses at this time of the year in the traditional Latin calendar.

• First thing to remember is that the liturgical year begins on the First Sunday of Advent.  
• The second thing is that the liturgical year ends on the Last Sunday after Pentecost. 

Comparing the Time After Epiphany with the Time After Pentecost

Two parts of the church year are variable.  All the other parts of the church year have a fixed number of days that do not vary. The two variable parts of the Church year are:

• "Time after Epiphany" 
• "Time after Pentecost"

The Time after Epiphany comes first, after Advent, Christmastide, and (of course) Epiphany.   The Time after Pentecost comes after Septuagesima, Lent, Easter Time, and (of course) Pentecost.

The following pie chart is from the Roman Missal.

• “Time after Pentecost” is on the left in green, which is the liturgical color for the season; it has by far the biggest wedge, which has between 23 to 28 Sundays.
• "Time after Epiphany" is shown on the right, also in green, and it has a small wedge with between 1 and 6 Sundays. 

These two times are reciprocally related.  When the "Time after Epiphany" has more Sundays, the "Time after Pentecost" has fewer Sundays.

Table: Boundaries

Variable Feasts Affecting the Numbers of Sundays

The number of Sundays after Pentecost and the number of Sundays after Epiphany both change every year because the dates of the First Sunday in Advent  and of Easter Sunday are variable:

• The First Sunday of Advent occurs on the fourth Sunday before December 25. Because December 25 can occur on any day of the week, the date of the first Sunday of Advent can be any Sunday from November 27 to December 3. 
• Easter is on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the Vernal (Spring) equinox (which is assigned to March 21).  Most of us are aware that the date of Easter changes because it is based on a lunar calendar to correspond to the Jewish feast of Passover.  As a result of the variability of  the dates of the full moon, Easter can occur on any of 35 possible Sundays from March 22 to April 25th.

Effects of Variable Feasts on the Numbers of Sundays

The variable dates of Advent and of Easter occurring earlier or later in a year are what lengthen and shorten the Time after Epiphany and the Time after Pentecost:

• If the start date of Advent is early, the total number of Sundays after Epiphany may be increased and the total number of Sundays after Pentecost may be reduced
• If the start date of Advent is late, the total number of Sundays after Pentecost may be increased and the total number of Sundays after Epiphany may be reduced.
• If Easter comes early, Septuagesima must also start earlier, which may reduce the number of Sundays after Epiphany and increase the number of Sundays after Pentecost by the same number.
• If Easter comes later, more Sundays (up to the maximum of six) may occur during the Time after Epiphany, and a corresponding fewer number of Sundays may occur during the Time After Pentecost.

Rules for Masses at the End of the Time after Pentecost

With all of the above being noted, let's look at the rules for which Mass Propers are said at this time when we are approaching the end of the Church year.

On the last Sunday before Advent, the Mass for the 24th and Last Sunday after Pentecost is always said. This Mass uses the Introit, Gradual, Offertory, and Communion from the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost, but it has its own Collect, Epistle, and Gospel.

23rd Sunday after Pentecost:

• If the 23rd Sunday is the Last Sunday before Advent, the Mass called the “Last Sunday after Pentecost” is said.
• Otherwise, the Mass called the “Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost” is said.

More Than 24 Sundays after Pentecost:

When there are between 24 and 28 Sundays after Pentecost, things get a bit more complicated.

• The Introit, Gradual, Offertory, and Communion of the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost are repeated on all the Sundays between the 24th and 28th Sunday after Pentecost.
• The Collect, Epistle, and the Gospel are taken from the Masses that were omitted from the Sundays after Epiphany. (Remember that during a year when there are more than 24 Sundays after Pentecost, there are always a corresponding fewer number of Sundays after Epiphany.)

The following table shows which Masses should be used for the Collect, Epistle and the Gospel, Secret, and Postcommuniion, according to whether the Time after Pentecost has 24, 25, 26, 27, or 28 Sundays.

Table: Rules for  What Propers to Use Between 23rd and 28th Sundays After PentecostHow to Use the Table

Find the number of Sundays after Pentecost for the current year in the columns under "If the Number of Sundays after Pentecost is:". For example, if the number is 28, follow the column under 28 for what Mass to use for the Collects, Epistle, and Gospel on the 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, and 28th Sundays, which are given in the right column.

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[1] The Propers of the Mass change either according to the season or to the feast or event being celebrated on a particular day. They include the Introit, the Collect, the Epistle, the Gospel, the Offertory, the Communion,  the Secret, and  the Post-Communion.
[2] The Roman Missal (1962) notes that the Mass for “The First Sunday after Pentecost” has been replaced with the Mass for Trinity Sunday. The old Mass called “First Sunday after Pentecost” is still in the Missal, but it is “only celebrated during the following week on days where there are no feasts of Saints.” The Mass for Trinity Sunday counts as the First Sunday after Pentecost; the next Sunday is the Second Sunday after Pentecost, and so on.
[3] Adapted from the Roman Missal (1962)

2: How to Confess Your Sins - Traditional Latin Rite

Confessionals for pilgrims at the Shrine of St. James in Compostela, Spain

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To read an overview of the differences between the form of the traditional Latin sacrament of penance and the Novus Ordo form, see my previous blog 1: How to Confess Your Sins - Traditional Latin Rite. See also How to Go to Confession and Manners for Penitents for more details, including how to prepare for confession, other things you must do, and some etiquette suggestions.

If you haven't been to confession for a long time, remember this, the priest is going to be happy for you.  He may not say it, but he knows that heaven rejoices whenever a sinner turns to God and asks forgiveness.  Remember the image of Christ the Good Shepherd who went out to seek the lost sheep and returned rejoicing to the other sheep carrying the sheep over His shoulders.

Earliest image of Christ the Good Shepherd (200-300 AD), Catacomb of Domitilla

If you can't remember what to do or you get upset or flustered, tell the priest!  He'll be glad to guide you.

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CONFESSION

NOTE: Make the sign of the Cross while the priest says the blessing.
Priest:
In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
In the name of the Father and the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
Penitent: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is (X days, weeks, months, years) since my last Confession. And these are my sins.
Tell the priest the number and kind of your sins, then say: For these and all the sins of my past life, I ask pardon of God, penance, and absolution from you, Father.
NOTE: The priest may give you some spiritual advice before he gives you a penance. The penance is usually in the form of a certain number of prayers or other pious actions.

ACT OF CONTRITION

Priest: Now say a good Act of Contrition.
Penitent: 
English: O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because they offend Thee, who art all Good and worthy of all my love. And I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen.

ABSOLUTION

Priest:
NOTE: Make the Sign of the Cross when the priest says the words, "ego te absolvo ...."
Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis (suspensionis) et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges. [making the Sign of the Cross:] Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
May our Lord Jesus Christ absolve you; and by His authority I absolve you from every bond of excommunication and interdict, so far as my power allows and your needs require. [making the Sign of the Cross:] Thereupon, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Passio Domini nostri Jesu Christi, merita Beatae Mariae Virginis et omnium sanctorum, quidquid boni feceris vel mail sustinueris sint tibi in remissionem peccatorum, augmentum gratiae et praemium vitae aeternae.
May the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the merits of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints and also whatever good you do or evil you endure merit for you the remission of your sins, the increase of grace and the reward of everlasting life. Amen.

GOODBYES

Penitent: "Thank you, Father"

1. How to Confess Your Sins -- Traditional Latin Rite (Extraordinary Form)

This information may help if you want to confess your sins to a priest who follows the Traditional Latin rite (Extraordinary Form, or EF), and you are used to confessing sins to a priest at a Novus Ordo (NO) parish. Confession of sins has always been in the local language (the vernacular). And the form of the sacrament is the same.

The terminology is different. The Sacrament of Penance in the EF is called the Sacrament of Reconciliation in the NO.

A common term for receiving the sacrament is "going to confession."

The major difference with an EF confession is that the initial blessing and the closing prayer will usually be in Latin.

For another thing, NO priests often omit the step of asking the penitent to say the Act of Contrition after the person finishes telling the priest his sins. But in the EF form, the Act of Contrition is always said by the penitent, either before or during absolution.

If the church has a confessional, that might be strange to you if you are used to going to confession sitting in a chair facing the priest. In a confessional like the one in the image under this blog's title, the priest sits behind a door in the middle while penitents kneel facing him on the side in a compartment that is behind either a door or a heavy curtain. A privacy screen separates the priest and the penitent so they can't see each other.

In all the churches I've attended lately that use confessionals, only one side of the confessional is used. But if two sides are used, when the priest is hearing a confession on one side, he keeps a sliding panel closed behind the privacy screen on the other side. The privacy panel ensures that if another penitent is waiting, the one that is waiting won't be able to hear the other one's confession.

Sometimes priests use a sort of mini-confessional with the priest sitting behind a screen and the penitent kneeling on a kneeler. The photo below shows an example of the kind of mini-confessional I'm talking about.

Fr. Joseph Marie Wolfe hears confessions at an EWTN family celebration in San Francisco

There may be a line for confessions. If a confessional is being used, a light is lit when the priest is present. Lights are sometimes lit to indicate whether the penitents' sides are occupied. When it is your turn, open the door or the curtain, close it behind you, and kneel down.

If you haven't been for a long time, you might consider calling the priest ahead of time and telling him you would like  an appointment for confession.

Another helpful practice is to make a General Confession from time to time. You can either write out the sins of your life and tell them to the priest or confess from memory.  Since  a general confession is going to take longer than a regular confession, this is another case where you might want to call for an appointment.

For how to confess and receive absolution, go to the next post: 2: How to Confess Your Sins - Traditional Latin Rite

Metaphorical Interpretation VS. Common Sense. And the Winner Is?

I'm reading the Valley Catholic diocesan newspaper again because it is showing up in my mail box, through a new initiative that delivers it to every registered Catholic home. I stopped subscribing to the paper a while back, because it always provokes me to want to write some sort of response to the doctrinal errors that stand out for me in its articles, and I have other more useful things to do with my time.

But I made the mistake of reading through the September 18 issue, since it was here, and so I got myself provoked again, this time by an article by Oblate author and regular "Spirituality" columnist Fr. Ron Rolheiser called "Ultimate Answer to Violence." The way he writes is, to me, just another reminder of the gap between common sense and the vaporous obfuscations[1] of non-traditional writers about Church teachings.

For example, Fr. Rolheiser puts quotes around the work "demons." Does that mean that he doesn't think demons exist? And he explains what "in essence" Jesus meant by fasting, using only sixty-two words, not referring at any point to abstaining from food. And the worst thing he does is to substitute the term "Ultimate Power" for "Father" when referring to the first Person of the Trinity. Details follow below.

Fr. Rolheiser starts with a good goal, in that he is trying to explain the paradox of how nonviolence can triumph over violence. Fr. Rolheiser writes that the answer to "How do gentleness and meekness inherit the earth? ... may strain logic somewhat, but Jesus hints at an answer to that question in his response to his disciples when they ask why they do not have the power to cast out certain demons, when Jesus can cast then out."

I don't think that Jesus "hints," and writing that Jesus hints at anything implies a kind of smugly inappropriate familiarity with the Second Person Who is the Creator of the Universe. But let's go on.

Before I quote what Fr. Rolheiser posits as Jesus's metaphorical answer, let's look at the literal words of the Gospel, Matthew 17: 14-20:

14 And when he was come to the multitude, there came to him a man falling down on his knees before him, saying: Lord, have pity on my son, for he is a lunatic, and suffereth much: for he falleth often into the fire, and often into the water.

15 And I brought him to thy disciples, and they could not cure him.

16 Then Jesus answered, and said: O unbelieving and perverse generation, how long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you? Bring him hither to me.

17 And Jesus rebuked him, and the devil went out of him, and the child was cured from that hour.

18 Then came the disciples to Jesus secretly, and said: Why could not we cast him out?

19 Jesus said to them: Because of your unbelief. *For amen I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard-seed, you shall say to this mountain Remove from hence to yonder place, and it shall remove, and nothing shall be impossible to you.

20 But this kind is not cast out but by prayer and fasting.

Here is Fr. Rolheiser's thought on verses 19 and 20:

"Jesus' answer is metaphorical, but deep. He replies, in essence, that "demons" are cast out, not through a superior cultic power, but through a superior moral power, namely, by the power that is created inside someone when he or she sufficiently nurtures a deep private integrity, graciousness, love, innocence, gentleness, and hold these in fidelity in the face of all temptation, including violence.

Nurturing these things inside oneself connects a person to the ultimate source of all Being, the Ultimate Power, the power that Jesus called his "Father."

There we have the sixty-two words that Fr. Rolheiser uses to define fasting.

I would suggest that we generally should take Jesus' words literally, unless they are obviously not to be taken literally. In contrast, Rolheiser seems to know that Jesus' answer is metaphorical, although he does allow that it is "deep." Rolheiser's point seems to be that "demons" whatever he thinks they are, are cast out not by literal prayer and abstaining from food as in traditional fasting but by "nurturing ... integrity, graciousness, love" and so forth.

And if you achieve that nurturing (no deprivation of one's senses is necessary, it seems), you will be connected to the "Ultimate Power." When Rolheiser writes that Jesus called that Ultimate Power "Father," is he hinting that "Father" was just a limited sexist term that Jesus used, but that we are too smart to use? I fear that might be so.

Does this kind of terminology belong in a Catholic newspaper? I think not. Catholics don't believe in an abstract impersonal Higher Power, or Force. We believe in One God in Three Persons, and God the Father is one of the Persons. We don't believe in God the Ultimate Power.

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Ultimate answer to violence ... in Spirituality by Father Ron Holheiser, The Valley Catholic, September 18, 2012. p. 14.

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[1] Hope the big word didn't put you off. The definition of "to obfuscate" fits the situation exactly, but it take a lot more words: "To make so confused or opaque as to be difficult to perceive or understand."