Rhabanus

@Praxiteles wrote:

I thoroughly agree with that sentiment.

More arcana from the vault of erudite obscurantism:

“The custom of placing lighted candles on our altars goes back, probably, only to about the eleventh century – before which time they were left standing in tall candlesticks on the floor of the sanctuary, or in brackets affixed to the walls.

At Masses, candles are used as follows: At a solemn Mass six are lighted on the altar. At a “Missa Cantata,” sung by one priest, four are sufficient. At a Pontifical Mass, sung by a bishop in his own diocese, seven are lighted. Four are used at a bishop’s private Mass, and two at all other Masses. These rules, however, do not prohibit the use of more candles on occasions of special solemnity. Bishops and certain other prelates have the right to use a reading-candle, called a “bugia,” at their Masses.

At Vespers, six candles are lighted on the more solemn feasts; four only will suffice on other days. In the processions to the sanctuary before solemn services two candles are borne by acolytes, and these are also carried to do honor to the chanting of the Gospel and to the singing of certain parts of Vespers.” John F. Sullivan, The Externals of the Catholic Church: Her Government, Ceremonies, Festivals, Sacramentals, and Devotions, 3rd ed. (New York: P.J. Kenedy and Sons, 1918), p. 184.

The seven candlesticks mentioned in Ordo Romanus I represented the seven ecclesiastical districts of Rome mentioned in OR I, 1. Interested readers may consult the Ordines Romani compiled and edited by Michel Andrieu, or the Latin-English edition of Cuthbert Atchley.

Medieval (Gothic) interpretation of the seven candlesticks suggested a taste for allegory: the seven-fold gift of the Holy Spirit, which the bishop was presumed to have in its fullness and which he would impart in such rites as Confirmation and Holy Orders.

Early Roman Christians were not particularly prone to allegorical interpretation as were Christians of the Gallic and Gothic regions, as Edmund Bishop points out in “The Genius of the Roman Rite,” Liturgica Historica (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1918), p.10:

“The true Roman cannot forget his dignity. The thing had to be done, and it was done in a plain and simple but the most practical manner. It is all only and simply practical. There are rites and times we know of that would have encompassed the act with symbolism and shrouded it in mystery. Mystery never flourished in the clear Roman atmosphere, and symbolism was no product of the Roman religious mind. Christian symbolism is not of Roman birth, nor a native product of the Roman spirit.”

For more details on the history and meaning of the altar, see Cyril E. Pockne, The Christian Altar: Its History and Today (Oxford: Mowbray, 1963).

@Praxiteles wrote:

If yuo are referring tot he question of the seventh candle, then I would not agree with Jonglas that we are dealing with erudite obscurity. It was prescribed by the Council of Trent and denotes jurisdiction.

Rhabanus’ eyesight did fail him. A seventh candle can be seen protruding from between the first and second candlesticks from the crucifix on the Epistle side of the altar. The angle of the photograph, though, makes the candle appear to have been plunked down on the altar, whereas it likely was in a proper candlestick. Nevertheless, it might have been placed to full effect in a more prominent/dramatic position, e.g. directly behind the crucifix even if supported by a pedestal or stand directly behind the altar, or else at the end of the altar; in other owrds, ,in a more obvious position. So a mea culpa for that oversight.

On the other hand, Rhabanus failed to spot a maniple either on the left hand of the bishop or laid aside on the open page of the missal (which might have been the case if His Lordship were on his way to the pulpit to preach).

Rhabanus cares not a stitch whether the maniple be made of damask or moire. Such considerations he leaves to the liturgical haberdashers and those preoccupied with sartorial concerns and time on their hands. [Incredibly, some institutions in North America award doctoral degrees in “fabric.”] Rhabanus, though, prefers to see “the armour of God” worn in full panoply. Although the GIRM of 1970 stated “Manipulus omitti potest,” the maniple is prescribed in MR 1962.

Do pardon any erudite obscurities, together with the other “usual” shortcomings (e.g. Romanism, ultramontanism, doll-worship, unregenerative orthodoxy, etc.), not to mention dishonourable forms of argument. One is bound to commit the occasional solecism when daring to soar among the omniscient.

@ake wrote:

Yes indeed they are galleries. The long transepts both have beautiful galleries. Are these the original Georgian galleries? I presume they are, in part at least, but I still haven’t come across any detailed literature on the building so can’t say for certain.; (in the below pictures, see what an immense difference would be made to the interior simply by painting the columns the same yellow)

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As for the altar arrangement, look at this image, posted before

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This is from the National Library, and apparently dates from 1890-1910. Which would suggest that it is rather earlier than the coloured picture. The altar seems unchanged, but look at the altar rails; the central gates are gone. In the colour image they appear to be intact. So…I don’t know.

A peculiar thing in the colour image is the wall decoration just above the gallery in the transept- criss crossing lines (?!)

Thanks very much, ake, for presenting such a splendid collection of photos new and old. I now see the Stations of the Cross quite clearly in the later b x w shot and in the coloured snaps. The blue is most unfortunate. The powder blue reminds one of the boudoir of Mrs Higgins in the film My Fair Lady.

The gilding on the capitals ought to be restored, as should the stencilling throughout.

Perhaps the criss-cross patterns in the gallery were meant to be but temporary decoration until the rest of the stencilling – or some other decorative plan – could be carried out in earnest. It scarcely seems to match anything else in the building.

The sheer want of taste in the new regime screams to high Heaven for the education of the clergy. Vatican II specifies that they are to receive education and formation in both the fine arts and music. This rule seems to be more honoured in the breach. How will the presbyterate learn anything when the bishops and other “gatekeepers” refuse to carry out the mandates of the Council.

Leadership involves taking responsibility seriously and fulfilling the duties of one’s state in life. Episcopos means “overseer” or “supervisor”. What kind of supervision is going on in liturgical art and architecture?

???

And when did green altar cloths gain approval for use in Catholic churches? There is a sick trend which replaces the regular white linen altar cloths with coloured fabrics. Liturgical nutters at their finest.

Clutterama!!

@Praxiteles wrote:

The form was lso used as a protection against the plague. From the 18th.c on, it seems almost to have disappeared completely and at this point of time is as a good as unknown in Catholic iconography.

Do not forget the medieval image preserved in St Dominic’s cell at Santa Sabina on the Aventine Hill, Rome. St Dominic actually had a dream in which the members of his order were under the protective mantle of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Some may recall the 1963 hit recording of “Dominique” by the Belgian Dominican nun, Soeur Luc “Sourire” Dekkers [aka ‘The Singing Nun”]. The song included a reference to that dream of St Dominic.

Verse seven:

Dominique vit un reve:
Les Precheurs du monde entier
Sous le manteau de la Vierge
En grand nombre assebles.

Perhaps Prax might kindly summon up for us a photo of that famous image at S. Sabina.

@Praxiteles wrote:

And here is an item for which Mr. Duncan Stroik deserves absolute full marks – a decent sized sacristy. Most of the horrorw taht we have seen on this thread are usually equipped with shoe-box sized sacristies in which the proverbial cat could not be swung. The over educated people who design such closets forget -or perhaps never knew -that sacristies are places which have multiple functions -and not simpley that of vesting.

The sacristy here reminds Praxiteles of the main sacristy of Santa MAggiore with a hint also of the Sacristy of San Lorenzo in the Escorial.

Rhabanus confesses that his favourite sacristy is Borromini’s masterpiece in the Chiesa Nuova, Rome.

Duncan Stroik has done wonders across the USA. He understands both architecture and the sacred liturgy, as is clear from his superb designs. Naturally he and his school are capable of the near-miraculous. Challenges arise when the patrons’ funds are limited.

Take a look at Matthew Enquist’s proposed design for the church/chapel of Ave Maria University, near Venice Florida. Then just look at what the patrons eventually decided to erect. Would that Matthew Enquist’s magnificent plan had been adopted.

@Praxiteles wrote:

To return a moment to St. Joseph’s Church, Liscarroll, Co. Cork,

Here we a have a picture of the interior of the church as it was before the assault of the 1970s. The proposed plan to gut the interior will of course distance the church even farther from its original visual impact:

Nice stencilling above the wainscotting. The statues look better inside the rails, which do lend definition to the sanctuary. It would be nice to retrieve some of the other designs stencilled on the wall of the sanctuary.

The altar in this photo looks rather elegant. Perhaps the lighting in previously displayed photos was unkind to the altar. Is it made of marble or some other stone? Or simply a marbelized wooden altar?

@johnglas wrote:

Rhabanus: I’ll defer to Prax, but not to you. The DIP is a doll dressed up and you seem to be obsessed by an ultramontane delusion. How many of these dour northerners have a culture of clerical sexual abuse? (Sorry about that, but it has to be said.)
I do not accept many so-called liturgical reforms, I deplore the stripping of the altars and the banalisation and vandalism of churches. I will not accept dubious practices dressed up (sic) as true religion. A bit of pomp occasionally, yes. But no to the rest and most of it is tacky.

Let us consider a few facts:
The term ‘tacky’ has been bandied about recently without a definition.
It has been applied to customs and traditions that obtain in southern Europe by a northerner formed by the general assumptions and – dare we suggest? – the prejudices of the middle class.

Johnglas is free to avoid practices foreign to his ken; but to deplore them as “tacky”, whatever that is supposed to mean, and to execrate them in fervid terms suggests that want of generosity and joyfulness all too characteristic of the puritan.

Johnglas rightly deplores clerical sexual abuse. He may find much food for thought (and perhaps some grist for his mill) in a recent publication by Leon Podles, Sacrilege: Sexual Abuse in the Catholic Church (Baltimore MD: Crossland Press, 2008). The pages treating the abuse perpetrated by liturgists are trenchant and telling (345-346). According to Podles, “Liturgy is a way of controlling people and making them carry out the fantasy that the specialist has envisioned. Anyone who has tried to disagree with a liturgical expert has had an experience that confirms the joke among Catholics: ‘What is the difference between a terrorist and a liturgist? You can negotiate with a terrorist.’” (p. 346)
He then proceeds to cite examples of liturgists who have come to grief.
The connection implied between clerical sexual abuse and the dressing of statuary in convents and churches is unclear, particularly as the majority of the cases of abuse reported over the past few decades has come not from southern Europe but from countries and continents where Catholicism has not been in the ascendancy since the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
But as Prax wisely states, this is somewhat of a red herring. Podles, however, has touched a nerve by alluding to the manner in which liturgical “experts” have wielded (or at any rate have tried to wield) control over others, including whole parishes and dioceses. Does this not ring true in various situations covered on this thread where the folks have awakened to find their church or cathedral denuded of its furnishings and reorganized beyond all recognition. And with little or no consultation at all. “Pay, pray, and Obey!” seems to be the motto in many a region featured on this thread.

Catholic culture has produced great masterpieces of art, architecture, music, literature, devotion, education (the university, Jesuits’ ratio studiorum) and science (Gregorian Calendar – resisted in England until the reign of George III – for fear of papistry!!) Certainly abuses arise, but not as valid expressions of accepted schools or principles. This is precisely why they are called abuses!

As for obsessions with ultramontanism, Rhabanus cordially invites Johnglas to lay aside his strong cup of tea, just for a moment, and riffle through the pages of The Catholic Encyclopedia (1908-1913) and consult the definition of Ultramontanism found therein. After another sip of “the elixir of life” Johnglas may wish to check The New Catholic Encyclopedia, 2nd edition (2003), for an updated treatment of Ultramonatism.

Rhabanus contends that when the papacy is strong, abuses are dealt with in a fair, even-handed manner and that the average Joe Catholic stands a better chance of getting a just settlement, and of being able to live contentedly according to the Way of the Gospel. On the other hand, when the papacy is weak, secular authorities exercise undue influence, if not dictatorial control, over ecclesiastical and spiritual matters (e.g. Henry VIII, Edward VI, Elizabeth I; Joseph II of Austria) and liturgical and theological “experts” wrest control with dire consequences for the powerless (St Joan of Arc, Jan Hus, and other casualties of odium theologicum). The Councils of Constance and Basle were by no means the Church’s finest hour.

Likewise the liturgical pandemonium and iconoclasm that the Catholic faithful in various regions and countries have endured for the past forty years reflect defiant resistance to the papacy and an adoption of that brand of Gallicanism (or whatever you may wish to call it) which panders after the approval of secular authorities, powers, and influential quarters all too eager to reduce the Church to thralldom.

Show our gentle readers, please, the great legacy of Caesaro-papism. Which buildings or works of art patronized by Henry VIII, or Eward VI or Elizabeth I do you hold up as the apogee of culture?
Explain, Johnglas, the canons of your theory of aestheticism against which you measure – and by which you execrate – the Divine Infant of Prague or Our Lady of Victory or the clothed and crowned statue of St Peter enthroned.

The Signora Neroni is pouring Rhabanus another glass of champagne. Let me read your Theory of Aesthetic as I sip slowly from the foaming glass. Grazie, grazie, carina; basta cosi per piacere!

@Praxiteles wrote:

Here is the Chiesa Nuova with its 17th century damask hangings

Ceiling by Pietro Cortona;the altar piece by Rubens

Chiesa Nuova is the church in Rome that does it best. The chapel of St Philip Neri is adorned magnificently during the novena leading up to the Saint’s feast (26 May). The damask hangings are put out in all their splendour and the altar decorated with magnificence. A photo of that is well worth a look. Even Saint Pilip himself is vested in priestly garb, ready for the liturgy of the New and Eternal Jerusalem!

The vast majority of the churches in Rome have given up these seasonal and festal ways of decorating. Such a pity that laziness and fecklessness have pervaded the liturgical scene.

The Church of the XII Apostoli used to be decorated sumptuouly for the solemnity of the Immaculate Conception (8 Dec) – with a great image of the Immaculata suspended over the high altar and festooned in bunting of white and blue.

The Romans once knew how to celebrate in grand style, carefully marking days of humiliation and festal days. Che bella Roma!

This style made its way into England: Newman’s Oratory in Birmingham and Fr Faber’s Oratory in London on the Brompton Rd. The statue of Our Lady of Victory over the Lady Altar is always decked out in cope and mantilla according to the liturgical feast and season.

The image of Our Lady of Walsingham in the Holy House within the Anglican Shrine likewise is decorated with sumptuous vestments.

This is not a tacky practice. In fact, in Spain and southern Italy in the Baroque era statues were intended to be vested/clothed.

The world-renowned image of the Infant Jesus of Prague (Czech Republic) has an enormous wardrobe – some of the most elegant and richly-wrought pieces were hand-crafted by members of royal households and exude consummate good taste. Every Carmel has an image of the Divine Infant which the nuns clothe according to the liturgical colours of the day. Many homes the world over imitate this pious devotion.

The practice of clothing statues is not confined to southern Europe, either. The Nativity figures displayed in the outdoor crib annually at St Joseph’s Oratory, Montreal, are clothed.
The image of Our Lady of Consolation in Carey, Ohio is clothed in finery, and, like the Infant of Prague, has a sumptuous wardrobe of vesture sent from various parts of the world.

Praxiteles is quite correct. The grim religion that settled into many quarters of the northern countries in Europe is as drab and unimaginative as the bleak weather that covers those regions. Tell us: what masterpieces of fine art and literature come from such oppressive fastnesses of cold? no Odyssey, no Aeneid, no Sistine chapel, no Divine Comedy, no convent of san Marco, no St Peter’s Basilica, no Pantheon, no Parthenon. The list could go on.

The best that these northern climes produced, namely Shakespeare and Chaucer, are the products of a cultus and culture at once more generous and more joyful than what followed.

If Catholic architecture, statuary, and art were all examples of unmitigated tackiness, then why do the heirs and descendants of the Puritans hasten with such willing feet to Florence and Rome each year? The northerners are the first to come … and the last to leave every year!

Catholics and other western Christians would do well to rediscover the veil. The veil enhances what is sacred: the altar, the tabernacle, the bride, the nun as Bride of Christ, the statue in the church. Even the priests and bishops of the East have retained the veil. Iconoclasm and puritanical paranoia have robbed the west of the veil. Pity!

And, finally, as Prax suggests, the most uncompromising Baroque decor certainly beats the tatty felt banners, electric votive candles, and cheap signage that mar many a church in this darkening age. For the nonce, we shall draw a discreet curtain across the music, whether raucous or simpering, and the attendant electronic equipment (including amplifiers) than now invade many a church and sanctuary, dragging the soul further into the “slough of despond” (to quote that celebrated northern and puritanical epic, The Pilgrim’s Progress).

Take me, please, to the Gesu in Rome. You may leave me kneeling in silence at the tomb of St Ignatius Loyola.

@Praxiteles wrote:

@Rhabanus wrote:

The newspapers did not say. They mearly concentrated on the flattened condition of the Alwahabi that his hyper-sophisticated piece of machienary could have been dismantled at c. 5 am in the morning without the slightest apparent difficulty. He was just dumbfounded by that.

No descriptions of the robbers were given -obviously- in the newspapers. Most of the space was taken up by the Alwahabi’s reaction to his purty things being all broken all over the place. If recollections serves well, the newspaper article ended up with a ritualistic wringing of hands (totally hypocritical of course) about the violation of the sanctuary etc. but completely overlooking the much more serious violation of the sanctuary pracised by the Alwahabi himself. Something doe not quite add up there.

And, I suppose, we have to acknowledge that not only robbers wear donkey jackets – as I think we are in a position to demonstrate.

And, Rhabanus, Praxiteles is not all together certain that it is just or only the robbers in Kanturk should see the klink.

How true! Consider the incongruity of the Alwahabi vying with common thieves in vandalising the church, then getting into a state of high dudgeon when upstaged by their efforts. After all, did the Alwahabi apply for, and receive, the neccessary permits and authorisation to impose his renovations on a protected building?

The law, then, was just as effective as the hypersophisticated technology in preserving the church in Kanturk from violation.

It all sounds to Rhabanus like the Wild West. In fact it resembles Bottle Neck before Tom Destry showed up as the junior deputy. Does Kanturk have a saloon run by a platinum-blonde German named “Frenchie”? [Why not annex one to the church in any event? Might attract a bigger crowd.]
“See What the Boys in the Back Room Will Have – and Tell Them I ‘m Having the Same!”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYqwlKkwM5I

Maybe those gates ended up with Little Joe:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQZpPfJfkyI

Meanwhile, at the most recent meeting of the HACK:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wnvJ0GMjnzU

Makes one appreciate the rule of law, doesn’t it?