Deira

“”

Having surrendered much of Southern Northumbria into the hands of the Mohammedans in a Yaltaesque deal with Cordatus I feel I ought to pay tribute to the beauty of that place where Constantine was raised to the purple, to save whose pagan inhabitants from God’s wrath St Gregory became our Apostle, and whose faithful in the face of heresy and schism laid down their lives in myriads under the banner of the Five Wounds of Christ.

 

The Empire on which the sun never sets

At least, for the next several millenia, barring political complications.

I am posting this on the request of Aelianus, who must feel quite smug about this.

 

…bona facite studia vestra: et nolite sequi deos alienos…

Deus, qui multitudinem populorum beati Bonifatii Martyris tui atque Pontificis zelo ad agnitionem tui nominis vocare dignatus es: concede propitius; ut cuius solemnia colimus, etiam patrocinia sentiamus. Per Dóminum nostrum Iesum Christum, Filium tuum: qui tecum vivit et regnat in unitáte Spíritus Sancti Deus, per ómnia sǽcula sæculórum.  Amen.

 

A dilemma

A long, long time ago (do not make me count years, it is rapidly becoming quite a shocking thing to do!) I heard in a lecture the phrase of, roughly translated, ‘opening the throttle with applied hand brake’ (‘mit gezogener Handbremse Gas geben’). This referred to the pre-winter management strategy for winter rape: you want it to be just at the right developmental stage when winter comes, but when you sow it, you do not yet know how long or how warm autumn will be. You have two instruments: nitrogen fertilization and fungizide application (which, handily, retards plant development in this case). You apply both, trying to strike a delicate balance that will get you exactly to the point you want.

I am in a similar situation: I have to write a grant proposal and neget it reaed to get it ready quite desperately, which necessiates the application of wine (to calm me down from utter PANICK!) and my super-duper-surprisingly-legal herbal infusion (ha!) containing green tea, mint, melisse(?), cinnamon, cacao, cola nut, ginseng, guarana, and paeonia. A delicate balance.

 

Modest proposal: map

[revised 4th June] Having taken into account the comments of Aelianus with regard to the last post but one and some further thoughts of my own, I propose the following interim division of England.

 

Address from St Cecilia’s Abbey

On the feast of St Matthias, 14 May, our postulant received the Benedictine habit and was given a new name.  Below is Mother Abbess’ talk in Chapter on that occasion.

 

Feast of St. Matthias, 2013

 

In today’s liturgy of the Feast of St. Matthias, we are given clear evidence of God’s elective love, a theme prominent also in the Prologue of Our Holy Father St.Benedict to his Rule:  “What can be sweeter to us, dearest brethren, than this voice of Our Lord inviting us?  Behold, in his loving mercy the Lord shows us the way of life.”  Ecce pietate sua demonstrat nobis Dominus viam vitae.  We also choose, or rather elect to respond to this invitation.  A monastic vocation is, therefore, the meeting of two choices, God’s and ours.  In choosing to follow Christ in the monastic life, a person sets aside other choices, which could have brought natural fulfilment and even the plaudits of the world.  Instead, she seeks to walk carefully in the truth, to study beauty, to practise goodness and engage in self-conquest, to become “communis”.  Why?  Because of the surpassing worth of knowing and loving Christ Jesus, who first knows and loves us, drawing us into “his own relational life of knowledge and love”[1] with the Father and the Holy Spirit. A monastic vocation is the meeting of two loves.

 

Since Christ has drawn her, he intends to give himself to her, in a union which is the normal flowering of the life of prayer and the gift of self. The Opus Dei, lectio divina, the prayer in the secret of the cell, the constant mindfulness of God in reverence and love, all till the earth of the heart, clearing away the thicket of interior thoughts, until it lies clean and quiet, in readiness for the rain of the Holy Spirit, for the harvest yield.  Such is a patristic image for the receptivity of the Blessed Virgin at the Annunciation: the fulfilment of the promise is already present in the expectation.

 

There is, in paradox, an immediacy about this waiting for God.  The sense of urgency springs from a consuming love of Christ that does not refuse to share his suffering.  Translated into a zeal to cast his fire upon the earth by intercession and sacrifice, it flows out into service of the community, in an intelligent understanding of divergent needs, in the communication of the peace and affection of Jesus Christ.

 

There is a saint of the 13th century who embodies and exemplifies this way of being.  “Her whole prayer experience,” writes a biographer, “like the liturgy, was characterised by joy, praise, entry into the mystery of Christ and union with the Trinity in divine indwelling.”[2]  Rooted in the Opus Dei and scripture, she had a profound and mysterious relationship with Christ, whom she called the Cantor cantorum.  Music was, for her, “a bridge between heaven and earth,” a “meeting place for all members of the Mystical Body.”[3]

 

Teacher in the Abbey school, spiritual counsellor with a gift for friendship, she gave cheerful service, too, in ordinary housework and towards the sick. It appears that her conversation was so gentle and kindly that her friend St. Gertrude said : “Everyone loved her and wanted to be with her.” “Blessed be God for giving us such a mediatrix, who shows a mother’s tenderness…by her constant prayers, zealous instructions and consolations.”[4]

 

I am speaking, of course, of ST.MECHTILDE of Hackeborn, who will be your patron in the monastic life.  Her name means “strength in battle”, yet she could also see herself, with the charm of self-deprecation, as “a trusty little dog who always returns to its master, even after frequent rebuffs.”[5]  A chosen confidant of the Heart of Jesus, she hears him tell her: “Your soul is always enclosed in my Heart and mine in thee.”[6]  As you go on in the monastic life, keep in your heart your dear parents, family and friends, along with the needs of the community, the Church and the world, so that we may all share in the grace of your vocation.  St Mechtild prayed: “‘God, be pleased to grant that my heart would always be a vineyard agreeable to your Heart.’  The Lord responded, ‘I am doing all that you desire.’  And immediately she saw herself within his sinless Heart.  There she walked as in a magnificent vineyard which the angels, like a wall, protected.  In the middle of the vineyard was a fountain beside which the Lord was seated. From his Sacred Heart, as from a source, water poured rapidly into this fountain where it seemed to draw her so that he might pour out on mankind desire for spiritual rebirth.”[7]

---

[1] Sr Maria of the Angels, OP, Lectio divina in a  secular age, in Nova et vetera,11, 1, 2013

[2] Sr Ann Marie Caron, RSM, Taste and see the goodness of the Lord: Mechtild of Hackeborn in Hidden Springs, Medieval Religious women, 3. Cistercian Publications, 1995

[3] Sr Jeremy Finnegan, OP, Saint Mechtild of Hackeborn: Nemo Communior, inPeaceweavers, Medieval Religions women, 2. Cist. Publs, 1987

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Caron, op. cit.

[7] Ibid.

 

A modest proposal for the governance of England

A wise and pacific French Dominican whom I once knew, an expert on Arabic and Islam who had lived many years in Egypt, used to remark that once that religion had entered a country, history showed only two alternatives. Either it gradually spread until it became the dominant force in the country, or else it was driven out by the sword.

Given the high and ever-rising number of Muslims in England, I wonder if the time has come to apply the solution which King Alfred used with regard to the Vikings after the battle of Ethandune, namely to cut off part of the country and allow them to govern it on condition that they didn’t cross over their borders. This would in turn naturally lead us back to what I believe is the even more ancient idea of England as divided into three kingdoms. Only, instead of Mercia, Wessex and Northumbria we could have the Muslims, the Catholics and the Secularists. The exact division of these territories could be settled by a summit meeting of the archbishop of Westminster, the President of the Muslim Council of Great Britain and the Director-General of the BBC.

I propose that the Secularists should have a court, or rather an endless succession of coalition governments elected by PR, based somewhere in north London, perhaps Islington or Hampstead. They could have the south of England, extending as far north as the Midlands and to the eastern suburbs of Oxford in the West, say to the Iffley Road just before you get to Greyfriars. This territory would therefore include East Anglia, but Walsingham would be reserved for the Catholics, a bit like La Rochelle in the 17th Century only in reverse. Walsingham could be ruled by twelve Guardians, who would have the right to try all but capital crimes.

The Muslims could have a caliphate centred, perhaps, on Bradford, and coming down as far as south and west as Birmingham inclusively. It need go no higher than York, I think, to suffice for their needs, which would create an amplified Ealdormanry of Northumbria as a buffer zone against the Scotch. We would have the rest of England, with our capital in Glastonbury. It would be ruled, subsidiarity being duly respected, by a descendant of James II nominated by the Pope after consultation with the the Duke of Bavaria and the head of the House of Hapsburg. The Anglicans and non-conformists would be allowed to decide which of the three realms they felt was their spiritual home. That would still leave the Hindus and Sikhs, of course, but perhaps they could partition the Isle of Man.

Teething problems in relations between the three realms could be settled by meetings of ambassadors at Crewe, which would be reasonably central and convenient for rail access. For this purpose I should be inclined to grant Crewe independence of all other jurisdictions, apart, of course, from that of the Roman Pontiff. Its supreme legislature would therefore be the town council, presided over by a Stationmaster-General. Within his territory he would rank as ceremonially equal to the heads of state of the three principal realms, and would have the right to have crossed flags borne before him in processions.

Since we should have Walsingham as an extra-territorial dependency, I should also be inclined for the sake of peace to grant something similar to the other two realms. The Muslims could have Luton. What of the secularists? Somewhat reluctantly, I suggest conceding them Hay-on-Wye. It would make a nice holiday destination if foreign travel were to become too expensive or dangerous, and they could go there to praise each other’s books.

This division would not last for many generations. The Secularists would wither away owing to birth-control, and we could easily re-take London, perhaps having first recovered and reconciled Canterbury Cathedral. The Muslims would multiply, as would we. We would send them missionaries, and perhaps our Lady of Fatima would intervene to bring about a wonderful conversion. If on the other hand the Sultan of Bradford forbade them to preach in his domain, the Roman pontiff could grant us the right to invade his territory to vindicate the rights of the faith. After a long and glorious reconquista the realm would again enjoy true peace.

Ridiculous? Of course. Yet no more ridiculous than if one had told a Tory MP in 1913 that in 100 years time, his party would propose that men should marry each other.