Leo XIII on Film -- Some Thoughts

If you haven't yet seen the amazing footage of Pope Leo XIII (circa 1896), have a look at the Holy Father born before the War of 1812.

Pope Leo's appearance and bearing inevitably prompt a few thoughts about our own Age of Francis.

First, Leo XIII was one of the best talent scouts Christ ever had, having set Katherine Drexel and Therese of Lisieux on the path to sainthood. Not too shabby. MLB could learn a few things from him.

Notice also the deference paid by the cardinals and guards attending him. The lesson for our time:  familiarity subverts prestige.

Finally, look at the way the old pontiff sits himself on the bench. One gets the impression that Leo was happy with his lot, accepting things simply as they were. He certainly would have looked askance at deceiving the faithful--and, more importantly, himself--through ostentatious displays of humility.

But then, Leo XIII was a pious man.

The Man Who Gave Us Pope Francis: Bertone Under Investigation?

Whether an (earthly) day of reckoning will come for +Tarcisio Bertone, I knoweth not. However, this story makes for intriguing reading.

For admirers of Pope Benedict XVI, Cardinal Bertone has been a much-villified personality. By any objective measure, his management of the Secretariat of State during Benedict's reign was disastrous. True, Benedict tapped him for the job, and was perhaps not as shrewd as St. John Paul II in judging character. One also wonders how different things might have been had Benedict had a sentry as fierce as Msgr. (now Cardinal) Stanislaw Dziwisz by his side.

We may never know the contents of the dossier--ordered after the Vatileaks scandal--but it apparently was a contributing factor to Pope Benedict's decision to abdicate the Throne of Peter. There's been plenty of wild speculation about it; but I'll bet a bottle of Early Times that a substantial portion was dedicated to the deprecations of +Tarcisio Bertone.

Here's why I believe this to be true. Archbishop Carlo Maria Vigano, in the course of cleaning up Vatican finances, uncovered a number of improprieties and reported them to the Holy Father in 2011. For his troubles, Vigano earned banishment to the United States as apostolic nuncio, a move that was none-too-subtlely engineered by Bertone. [N.B. If memory serves, Vigano is a blue-blood, and so the U.S. positing must indeed have been an affront to his patrician background.]

Around the same time, one member of the Italian Episcopal Conference was concerned that the Pope was being ill-served by his secretary of state. +Angelo Scola of Milan, in an audience with the Holy Father at which Bertone was present, told Benedict point-blank that he should fire Bertone for incompetency. This, of course, created a blood feud between Scola and Bertone.

The thread thus far:  uncovering of financial irregularities; Vigano sent far away from Rome; Scola confronts Bertone; Vatileaks; dossier; resignation.

Then the Conclave of 2013:  Bertone, working with ally-of-convenience Cardinal Angelo Sodano, organizes a bloc of votes against Angelo Scola. When +Jorge Bergoglio emerges as a compromise candidate, they pledge the bloc's votes to him, and Bergoglio becomes Pope Francis.

Thus, we have Bertone to thank for Pope Bergoglio, and not Pope Scola.

Bertone was subsequently dismissed by Pope Francis and is, apparently, living rather comfortably in some well-appointed digs.

Quite a record of achievement. But if the Tablet report is true, things may be coming full circle for Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone.

The Importance of Symbology

I've been a bad blogger. For anyone who discovered this blog and was even half interested in my ramblings, you would have been forgiven for believing that St. John's Tower had gone dormant, what with the absence of posts for the past two three weeks.

But I'm back. My work life has gotten incredibly busy of late with the taking on of new responsibilities. It's taken time to readjust, but now I intend to get back on track.

Let's begin with the photo above. 

Yet again, Pope Francis has managed to make headlines, this time for kissing the hand of Michele de Paolis, an avowed homosexual Marxist priest, shortly before departing for the Holy Land. Is this a big deal? Yes, but one has to tread carefully so as to avoid the pitfalls into which some papal critics (the rabid Mundabor, for instance) inevitably fall. For what it's worth, here's what I see as problematic.

If this was just an instance of the Holy Father honoring a nonagenarian priest, we'd all be saying 'class act.' But de Paolis is not just any nonagenarian priest. He's published and professed ideas that clearly run counter to Holy Scripture. He's long associated with political groups that have, over the course of history, fervently attempted to take religion out of the life of man. He's also part of a neo-fascist effort to employ state sanctions against those, by their thoughts, are deemed homophobic.

To sum up de Paolis' ministry:  heretical, anti-Church, and pro-thought crime. Though we don't know the man's heart, the outward form, as it were, makes it clear where his treasure lies. Nonetheless, the pope saw fit to kiss his hand.

The pope, if I may coin a term of art, has been somewhat hetero-flexible with regard to homosexuality. To be fair, he's not broken with orthodoxy, nor questioned the objective scriptural truth that God created man and woman to be fruitful and multiply. But strictly on the basis of his symbolic actions, there appears to be a subtext to the official line. As Cardinal Bergoglio, he wasn't exactly vociferous in his opposition to Argentina's homosexual "marriage" legislation. Since his election to the papacy, thus far, we've witnessed "Who am I to judge?" and now the hand-kissing of Michele de Paolis. 

I hear a voice from the cheap seats pipe up:  so would it be better if the guy was an in-the-closet homosexual? Is that what this is about?

Sit the hell down, dumbass, and learn something for a change.

The answer is:  not exactly. By which I mean, if the whole encounter between Pope Phil Donahue Francis and de Paolis had been couched in the concept of forgiveness, it might have been easier to fathom. In other words, the pope might say:  Allora, if some in the Church have been too harsh in their treatment of homosexual persons, please forgive us. In return, de Paolis might say:  Ecco, forgive me for advocating ideas designed to hurt the Church.

But that's not the case here. Not even close. The Church goes out of her way to accommodate homosexuals--to the point of letting the anti-Church homosexual agenda run rampant, in my opinion--and has consistently advocated civil treatment of those persons. Nobody is repressing de Paolis. In fact, if he had his way, the government would repress heterosexuals merely for feeling a native revulsion in contemplating the physicality of homosexuality. Since there are more heterosexual Catholics than homosexual, I suppose the Italian government would be sending a lot of people to prison.

It's the symbolism that makes this little incident a big problem.

Since a pope is an intensely public figure--arguably the most public figure in the world--symbolic actions are part of the papal record, to wit:  Urban at the Council of Clermont, St. John Paul II's visits to Poland, Benedict XVI's visit to the tomb of Celestine V. While not ex cathedra proclamations, a pope's symbolic actions are meant to demonstrate something important to the faithful. 

What message was Pope Francis trying to send by kissing de Paolis' hand? If it's the sanctification of sinfulness, we're all in trouble.

If Francis Said This, He's a Bum

One of the duties of a father is to encourage his kids. If a child runs to her dad to show him a picture she's colored, and he says it sucks, the dad is seriously derelict in that duty.


It's no different for a pope. He has a duty to be the Holy Father, both in name and in deed, to the thousands of seminarians, novitiates, and junior religious studying in Rome.


That's why this anecdote, recounted in a Commonweal interview with Cardinal Kasper, is particularly troubling:

It was reported that Pope Francis asked a young Jesuit what he was working on, and when the man said he was studying fundamental theology, the pope joked, “I can’t imagine anything more boring!”  

I have no way of knowing whether this incident really happened, or if the pope was accurately quoted. Secondhand information, of course, is always questionable. But let's assume that it is accurate, since the author felt confident enough to put it in print.


A Holy Father has no grounds for making this sort of comment to one of his sons in the Faith, even in jest. Especially when that son is engaged in studies that will enable him to better propagate said Faith.


If Pope Francis actually said this, he's a bum.

Cardinal Muller Rebukes LCWR -- What It All Means

Father Z.'s blog covers it in full, but the news from the Vatican is that Cardinal Muller delivered an unambiguous, sternly-worded rebuke to the Leadership Conference for Women Religious (LCWR) about its conduct since the Doctrinal Assessment was instituted by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in 2012. Here are the takeaways:

• The girls have not been behaving. They have publicly and stubbornly clung to the heretical teaching of "conscious evolution." What's that? You may well ask. Have a look here--it's right out of Michael O'Brien's novel Father Elijah. You really can't make this stuff up! Shirley MacLaine, call home, baby!

• It gets better:  the girls decided to honor Sister Elizabeth Johnson as their person of the year. You might recall that Johnson got in hot water with U.S. Bishops Conference--that's saying something, these days--for her book Quest for the Living God, in which (among other things) she questions the validity of God's transcendence, His "religiously inadequate" male image, and Christ as the Son of God 

• By the way, all of this took place without consulting Archbishop Sartain, the Vatican's appointed Delegate to the LCWR, as was specifically required

What we got here is a failure to communicate. Actually, what we got here is a bunch of ladies who think they can give CDF the Italian salute. 

Basta, replies Cardinal Muller:  "The decision taken by the LCWR during the ongoing implementation of the Doctrinal Assessment is indeed regrettable and demonstrates clearly the necessity of the Mandate’s provision that speakers and presenters at major programs will be subject to approval by the Delegate. I must therefore inform you that this provision is to be considered fully in force." 

In other words, you want sanctions? You got sanctioned. Archbishop Sartain has now become the de facto administrator of LCWR. 

As the girls sit in headquarters spinning Helen Reddy's greatest hits, downing Blue Moon ale while plotting their next move, it's interesting to speculate how this all may play out:

-  LCWR realizes the Holy See is serious and toes the line (highly doubtful, given the feminazi nature of its leadership)

- LCWR turns apostate and "migrates" to another church (quite possibly what they've been angling to do all along, and something the anti-Catholic U.S. press would find sensational)

- CDF stages an auto de fe of the LCWR leaders and/or sends the LCWR offenders to a convent under a vow of silence (I can dream, can't I?)

- A comprehensive reorganization that realigns the organization with its historical (and heroic) roots

Look for Michelle Boorstein and Michael Sean Winters to play this up for all it's worth over the next few weeks. And may this mark the beginning of the end of the media's love affair with Pope Francis. 

The Word Among Us and the Problem of Form and Substance

“It is of no small matter if a person sometimes does reluctantly what he should really do gladly (e.g., attending Mass every Sunday),” wrote Hans Urs von Balthasar, “for there is hope that eventually he may be moved to do it spontaneously, out of an inner desire.”

But don’t blame the how the Mass is celebrated if you’ve been feeling down in the dumps spiritually, saieth the folks at The Word Among Us:

Over and over, we hear about people who have stopped going to Mass because they don’t feel that they get anything out of it. Often, however, this happens when the outer ‘form’ of the Mass—the quality of the music, the appearance of the church, the various words and gestures of the liturgy—becomes more important than the inner ‘substance’ of what is going on.

(N.B. Don’t you love it when an anonymous author throws around the royal “we” to play up a sense of authority? I’d like to know from whom “we” were hearing. And how “we” felt qualified to reach such a sweeping conclusion.) 

At any rate, I think the WAU author, though well intentioned, is papering over some significant issues. If contemporary Mass is your thing, then stop reading. Pick up your Takamine acoustic and strum you some spirituals.

Growing up Catholic in the ‘70s was a tough slog: ugly churches with in-the-round seating, jangly-guitar renditions of “Michael Rowed the Boat Ashore,” and, memorably, a one-man theatrical presentation of the Passion. It seems the only thing the priests didn’t do was wear gold Century 21 blazers. Yeah, that was fun. It’s no wonder that the first thing I did as a fully emancipated adult was to … leave the Church behind. Even today, back in the fold as I have been, the thought of a contemporary Mass is like fingernails on a chalkboard:

My point is that form is as important substance. The Novus Ordo Mass, for good or ill, rises or falls on the piety of the priest, in collaboration with laity. The Mass suffers when the priest is just going through motions. When the entire celebration is banal, the encounter between the congregants and Christ becomes attenuated, if not lost. The Mass is not about the “everyday,” any more than wearing a white tie and tails is about going to Taco Bell. If we are sharing in an event of the greatest significance for the world—and, by the way, we are—it stands to reason that splendor must attend divine worship.

But if the Church continues to pare awe and reverence from the Mass, if she continues to de-value the significance of the encounter with the Real Presence, of course people are going to treat Mass like a Rotary Club meeting (which, ironically, is probably an insult to Rotarians).

For example:  Sunday Mass during the Easter Season, of course, begins with the sprinkling rite. A few years ago, at my parish, I noticed the words of the time-honored hymn “Vidi Aquam” for that rite had been replaced by “Springs of Water, Bless the Lord.” I never learned who made that change or why, but I do know the latter sounds awfully more prosaic than the former. To this day, I can’t even sing the words. Whereas the term vidi aquam brings the need for penitence sharply into focus, by contrast, “Springs” sounds more like an advertisement for bottled water.

Ecclesial architecture is also important. Quite frankly, it’s tough to muster up a sublime frame of mind needed for worship while in a building with jamboree-style seating. There is even one church I know of in which the congregation sits elevated above the altar, apparently for those who want a Sanhedrin experience.

To be fair to WAU, a lapsed or non-practicing Catholic will often hide behind complaints about the Mass as an excuse for not attending. That certainly seems to have been the case for Joseph Campbell, the author and comparative religion professor, who once told Bill Moyers that he left the Church for good after the Paul VI Mass was instituted. Putting aside for a moment the fact that Campbell was probably on his way out anyway, his point was that the ancient Latin Mass, with its archaic language and rites, was effective in preparing the Catholic to receive the Eucharist. 

Whether it’s Latin Mass, or Novus Ordo Mass given the proper attention and care, the goal must be, at all times, to elevate outer form to enhance inner substance. Were the U.S. bishops to take on that challenge, I’ll bet the numbers of those identifying themselves as “devout” might just go up a bit.  

St. John's Tower: A Statement of Purpose

Blogging, of course, is a form of vanity. Any blogger who says otherwise is deceiving only himself. I am no different, in that I believe I have something meaningful to contribute to the zeitgeist.

Like Robert Graves' Claudius, I dedicate the content on this blog to "an extremely remote posterity." But I (happily) labor under no misconceptions: much as I hope that "my eventual readers of a hundred generations, or more, will feel themselves directly spoken to," blogs are written on water, and perhaps the best I can hope for is that some kind soul years hence will somehow stumble upon these writings and equate them to graffiti on the walls of Pompeii.

More to the point, who am I? And why on earth am I laying claim to your precious time? Why would anyone in their right mind read these ramblings?

(N.B. If it makes you feel any better, I'm very rarely in my right mind. That's why God created bourbon--it tends to settle things inside the brainpan; to see things as ridiculous as they probably are, even helping one to be sanguine about the fate of humanity for a few fleeting minutes.)

The short story is that I've been reading a lot of Catholic blogs these past few years--across the spectrum, too, whether Fr. Dwight Longnecker, Steve Skojec, Rocco Palmo, Father Z, Rorate Caeli, or Ed Peters. They've all inspired me to join the conversation. But what's my unique angle? A sort of "reckless courage" fueled by Divine Love, as dear old von B. said.

Perhaps the best way to describe it is that I come from the nexus of +Joseph Ratzinger, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and Walker Percy. I live and love the fullness of the Catholic faith, from the Mass, to Byzantine icons and mosaics, to the writings of its greatest saints, doctors, theologians and lay writers--all of which, in my opinion, is undergirded by tradition.

This brings me to another founding element of St. John's Tower. Like many tradition-minded Catholics over the past year, I have been somewhat uneasy about Pope Francis. What concerns me about him is that his reign has been marked more by uncertainty than by any concrete aspect of the Catholic faith. There has been no shortage of speculation on who Pope Francis is and what he represents, and I'll delve into some of that in future posts. But suffice it to say that tradition--the rock on which many of us have relied on during the reigns on Pope St. John Paul II and Pope Benedict--appears to be in jeopardy.

As such, the upcoming Synod on the Family, I think, may very well represent a key moment in Church history.

Catholics who take tradition seriously need to keep their eyes and ears open. A tower is structure from which to keep watch over all that transpires below. The venerable St. John's Tower is the tallest structure in Vatican City after the dome of St. Peter's. Thus the name for this blog.

Finally, St. John's Tower should not be mistaken for an ultra-traditionalist blog. While I fully support the summorum pontificum affirming the Traditional Latin Mass, and feel strongly that this form must be made more available to the faithful, that is not the sole cause to be taken up on this blog.

Nor will this blog be a constant rant about every violation of the Catechism. I venerate tradition, and I'm as Orthodox as they come. But I ain't perfect. I'm a sinner--a jackass, really--who'd be the last face you'd plaster on the cover of The Catholic Standard as 'Knight Holy and Exemplar.' While I won't shrink from calling out that which is egregious (balloon mass, anyone?), I also believe, like Chesterton, that though "solemnity flows out of men naturally ... laughter is a leap."