“St. Gregory’s Church of 1917, located at Brooklyn Avenue and St. John’s Place, was closely based on the ‘idealistic ground plan’ of St. Clement in Rome, an archetypal basilica with an open, colonnaded narthex and a tall engaged campanile on one side of the nave. In keeping with its prototype, St. Gregory’s was gaudily decorated with figural frescoes and mosaics.” – New York 1930

It seems a rather pulchritudinous church; I’ll have to add it to the list of places to visit. It was designed by Helmle and Corbett, who were also responsible for the Bush Tower, built a year later. The Bush Tower will soon get a brand new neighbor, seen below.

Top photo lifted from the ever-nifty Bridge and Tunnel Club‘s Walk Down Brooklyn Avenue.

A pleasantly uninteresting flight across the realm of the Atlantic and I am happy to find myself home in New York once more. Not much sooner had my parents and I returned to our little abode in Eastchester than we were off to dinner courtesy of Uncle Matt and Aunt Naomi (who live next door to us) at a happy little place called Joe’s on Marbledale Road in Tuckahoe — an eatery quite keen on what is most often called home food: simple, filling, and particularly appropriate in this circumstance. I then had my first legal drink in the States: Brooklyn IPA (India Pale Ale). Not a poor drink, but didn’t strike my fancy terribly. I have had better pints before, legal or not.

After we all returned to the Cusack family compound, I tried to convince my mother of the efficacy of Catholic social teaching for a bit before heading into town to Roger Mahon’s house, wherein lay Michelle Carroll and good ole Will Freeman. Mikey, the Mahons’ Irish Wolfhound, is pretty much fully grown now, but of a very kind nature. Caro Gill should’ve been there but was exhausted since it was her birthday.

The Church of St. Agnes: exterior and tabernacle.

As I have often said, I always really know I’m home when I’ve heard the intoxicating incantation of the Asperges me at the 11:00 at St Agnes. The train from Bronxville is scheduled to arrive in Grand Central at 11:04 but almost always gets in two minutes before the hour, allowing just enough time to ascend to the grand concourse of that beaux-arts temple of transit, scurry through the Graybar passage, hop across Lexington Avenue to arrive at St Agnes just as the procession is finished and the Asperges commences. Today proceeded right on target.

Asperges me Domine hyssopo et mundabor,
lavabis me et super nivem dealbabor.
Misere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam.
Gloria patri et filio et spiritui sancti,
erat in principio et nunc et semper et in saecula seculorum. Amen.

Asperges me Domine hyssopo et mundabor,
lavabis me et super nivem dealbabor.

The wonderful thing about the Latin mass at St Agnes is it’s always just as it should be. It’s not an over-the-top ostentatious drama as you might find at Anglo-catholic churches, nor a wailing maelstrom as at some charismatic churches, nor a banal mediocrity as at the average Marty Haugen parish. It is what it is, and it is beautiful and reflective of God’s eternal glory.

Taking the train back to Bronxville, on Metro-North’s brand spanking new rolling stock I might add, I noticed a number of new buildings which popped up along the line since I last travelled on it in the winter; chiefly in Harlem. There were about five new structures: one was bland and inspid, but three were fairly decent attempts at good New York vernacular, and one was an exceptional example of the said style. It was brick, with proper windows, a wonderful cornice, and everything you might expect of a building of its kind built in the 1900’s or thereabouts. I don’t know how it managed to get built today, nor by whom, nor do I know what it is (looked like housing), but it was most certainly a new building and I admire whoever’s behind it for making new New York architecture in the New York style. Bravo.

Now I must be off to cocktails next door at the Colonel’s. It’s good to be home.

His Eminence, Keith Patrick O’Brien, the Cardinal Archbishop of St Andrews & Edinburgh visited St Andrews today, and offered the holy sacrifice of the Mass in the ruins of the Cathedral. It was the first time the Cardinal was in St Andrews since receiving his honorary degree last June. Above are Canon Halloran, our parish priest and Catholic chaplain to the University, and His Eminence.

It was unusually cold today and the ruins of the Cathedral were windswept, but we held fast and stayed for the whole mass. (There were about fifty or so in attendance). His Eminence even gave the final blessing and dismissal in Latin, after which he lead us in facing east and chanting the Salve Regina. Then we were all off to the parish hall for some tea, coffee, and cake. (more…)

This morning after the 9:00am Mass we learned that Fr. Patrick Burke has been summoned to the Eternal City for a job at the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith. Fr. Burke, who was Convener of the University of St Andrews Union Debating Society (f. 1794) and President of the Catholic Society during his undergraduate days, is just about the best (diocesan) priest in Scotland.

Oft-described as a Rhodesian-born English priest of a Scottish diocese who’s spent more time in Italy than anywhere else and speaks German to boot, Fr. Burke has a massive following at his alma mater. He is currently a parish priest in Stirling and Bannockburn as well as editor of Faith magazine. We were all elated to hear of his appointment, though the precise details of it are unknown at the moment, though we are saddened that it means he will likely be unavailable for his popular, informative, and hilarious talks at Canmore anymore.

A brilliant academic with excellent pastoral skills as well; not a common combination. We wish him all the best.

Deo gratias!

LAST NIGHT I finished reading ‘The Pope: A Portrait from Life’ by Constantine, Prince of Bavaria, about Pope Pius XII (who I thought had already been beatified, but not yet). It is definitely one of the biographies I have most enjoyed, perhaps even most enjoyed. The book’s strength lies not in academic depth nor in attention to detail but in giving the reader a great insight into the great man who Pius XII was. From his brilliant diplomacy, working for peace during the First World War under Pope Benedict XV, warning of the dangers of National Socialism as nuncio to Germany under Pope Pius XI, his own accession in 1939, and his tireless efforts to give shelter to all who were in need: Socialists, Communists, Jews, Christians, Atheists, Liberals, Royalists, Republicans, escaped Allied prisoners of war, and after the war, fascists, collaborators, Germans, and others whose lives (and souls) were equally in danger. There was no barrier of race or religion or party or ideology. Indeed, the Grand Rabbi of Rome, sheltered by Pius XII during the war was so inspired by him that three years after the war ended, he became a Christian, taking the name ‘Eugenio’, Pius’s birth name.

‘The Pope: A Portrait from Life’ tells the story of Eugenio Pacelli with anecdotes and stories from all the people surrounding this, the most lied-about figure in the history of the twentieth century. I strongly recommend this book to anyone interested in the life of Bl. Pius XII. It is almost cinematic as it moves from scene to scene, from the present (Rome 1954) to the past, in Rome, in Germany, in America over the years of Eugenio Pacelli’s career as priest, churchman, diplomat, and finally pontiff.

Constantine himself (pictured above) is interesting in his own right. Born in 1920, with all the Royal House of Wittelsbach he was kicked out of the German Army by Hitler and, in 1944, arrested by the Gestapo. Liberated by the French, he went on to work for the International Red Cross, until 1947 when he went to work in the Munich office of the Associated Press. In 1950, he became editor of Germany’s Revue magazine, and was later elected to the Bundestag. Unfortunately, he died in an air crash in 1969. This book as evidence of Contantine’s adroitness in the journalistic profession. It is no longer in print, sadly, and so hard to find, but if you do ever happen to come across it, buy it, read it; you will not be disappointed.

Our own Professor John Haldane, of the Philosophy Department here at St Andrews, has written a very calm and sensible commentary on the Holy Father. You can read it here. Read the whole thing through; like much of Haldane’s writing, it’s unexciting but informative and well thought-out, and wary of brash pronouncements.

Deo gratias! The white smoke came billowing forth from the Sistine Chapel, the bells rung out the election of a new pope, and a number of us made our way to Canmore to watch our new pontiff be announced to Rome and the world. The tension, the excitement, the hope! Would it be Ratzinger? Surely not! We should be so lucky. Oh please, let it be Ratzinger! The waiting. The BBC commentators who are completely alien to the church blabbing on. Let us see him! Who will it be? There’s no way it could be Ratzinger: that would be too good to be true! Wait, here comes the announcement. All of us jumped out of our seats and grabbed hold of one another. The cardinal begins his announcement…

“Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger.”

A wave of jubliation swept over us. We were dreaming? Could it possibly be true? We cheered, we cried, we laughed, we hugged eachother, kissed, shook hands. Deo gratias! Our prayers have been answered. All of us are full of immense hope for the years to come. This is what John Paul II spent his pontificate preparing for. And some amongst us will be going to World Youth Day. A German pope in a German city for World Youth Day! Imagine that! It’s still somewhat hard to believe. I’ve been coughing and sniffling like mad since I’ve got a cold, but no worries. We will always remember this day. And there shall be much rejoicing and imbibing tonight.

Now begins the arduous task of rebuilding the Church. We have had a prophet to inspire us, now we will have a king to lead us. In the world, not of it. Eternity, not modernity! Onwards and upwards. With the grace of God.

Long live Benedict XVI!

There are many wonderful things one might say about our late Holy Father, but most of it has been said already and better by others, so I will leave papal ponderings to your own discretion.

Something I found amusing, and then sad, and then amusing again was the following quote from CNN’s Christiane Amanpour:

Yeah, right. In reality (outside the potemkin village the secular media have built to fool the public as well as themselves), it goes more like this:

But therein lies what seperates their way of thinking from the Church’s.

Hat tip: OTR.

Easter is my favorite day of the year, as it is always infused with a spirit of joy and thanksgiving. Despite cloudy skies, this Easter was still a most enjoyable one.

Ezra, myself, Jon, Abby, Rob, Maria, and Stefano went down to Edinburgh and heard a Tridentine mass at St. Andrew’s Church in Ravelston. Why is it that going to old rite masses always reminds me of home, wherever I hear them offered? It was a wonderful affair, as was the five-course six-hour lunch we had afterwards with some of our good friends in Edinburgh.

Yesterday I took a morning off, finally rising about midday to most undesirable weather. Cloudy, rainy, cold, most uncharming. The majority of the day was spent reading (Modern Times, by Paul Johnson, the best history book I’ve read so far) in Canmore.

Equally dismal weather, but I still roused myself to get to the coffee place on Bell Street to have breakfast with Chris C.. I paid off a poker debt by buying him breakfast. Nonetheless, dismal weather is a good excuse to get some reading done, so off I go.

Resurrexit sicut dixit, Alleluia!

The editorial statement on Terri Schiavo released by the New Pantagruel effectively sums up the right attitude towards this most important case.

Here in St Andrews, there is an elderly lady named Mrs. Stevens who goes to Mass every day. During conversations after Mass one day with younger students, she said “It’s your generation that are going to have to be heroic.” Her generation did their part, and we are ready to take up that mantle, but in a sense it is the generation in between, the generation now in power, that has failed.

Where is the willingness to stand up to the courts and their ridiculous decrees? Is it not obvious that the State cannot justly starve to death a woman who, though brain-damaged, still laughs, smiles, and cries? Has Governor Bush really done everything he can to save her life? I suspect not (and those who have been lukewarm in her defense will pay the price).

Governor Bush: Damn the courts and damn the lawyers, send in the Florida National Guard and save that woman’s life!

Here are two photos of St Agnes on 43rd Street before the 1990s fire. When rebuilt, the Victorian gothic was replaced with neo-Roman classical. The current facade is modelled on that of il Gesu. Discovered through the NYPL Digital Gallery.

The Telegraph today reports that James Mawdsley, the human rights activist thrice chucked into Burmese prisons for his pro-democracy campaigns, will be standing in the next general election as the Conservative candidate for Hyndburn.

Mawdlsey, a good Catholic and a friend of Jon Burke and Peter Cox, was only just married last month, spending his honeymoon in Rome where he and his wife Elizabeth were blessed by the Holy Father.

Best of luck to him, and I very much hope he wins. This moribnd parliament needs more ardent defenders of the right to life and civil liberties.

Well, last night was magnificent. Fraulein Hesser and I travelled down to Edinburgh for the Knights of Malta Ball at the Assembly Rooms in George Street. Our party was organised by Mr. Gerald Warner whose visceral lashings in print of all the senior hubrisarchs of our day are published in weekly in Scotland on Sunday. Alas, Mr. Warner was exposed to mumps recently, and thus could not come for fear of spreading the contagion, but he very kindly gifted us two tickets, for which we are extremely grateful. We toasted his health. (more…)

Today, February 2, is Candlemas Day: the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. This is the day, forty days after the Nativity, when Mary brought Jesus to the Temple to offer a sacrifice for her purification after giving birth to a boy, as prescribed by the Mosaic law.

The feast is often called Candlemas because it is the day which candles of beeswax are blessed, while reciting the antiphon ‘Lumen ad revelationem gentium et gloriam plebis tuæ Israel’ from the canticle of Simeon cited above.

In Scotland, the Protestant revolution did away with all that, but Candlemas remained as a legal quarter day. At St Andrews, the second semester is Candlemas term. There used to be trimesters, consisting of Martinmas, Candlemas, and Whitsun terms, but the semester system was introduced during the 1990’s and Whitsun term faced the axe. Some folks at St Andrews, however, refer to the part of the second semester after the two-week Easter holiday as Whitsun or Whitsunday term.

In America, the day evolved into Groundhog Day, the earliest recording of which dates from the diary of Pennsylvania storekeeper in 1841:

UPDATE: Dr. Curmudgeon & Co. have a good Candlemas post.

Candlemas:
Catholic Encyclopaedia
Wikipedia
Groundhog Day:
Wikipedia

I have been ill the past four or five days, but there was nothing that could have made me feel better than having recently received the following email:

It was on this evening in 1886 that two souls experienced a profound conversion. Thérèse Martin, or Thérèse of Lisieux as she is now known, wrote of it in her spiritual biography, recounting: “On that luminous night, Our Lord accomplished in an instant the work I had not been able to do during years.”

At the same time, almost the same hour, a young man in his twenties, Paul Claudel stood in the Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris and began his return to the church. He was later to become a diplomat, poet, writer, and exegist.

Well I could go on further about both, but Philip Zaleski describes the conversion of Thérèse in his recent article ‘The Love of Saint Thérèse’ in First Things whereas Paul Claudel’s conversion is described by Eric Ormsby on the first page of the Arts section in today’s New York Sun. So do some research yourself. There’s a vast kingdom out there waiting to be learnt.

A very happy and blessed Christmas to you all!

Ah, the fire burns, the tree is lit, and another Christmas is had amongst the fam.

Photos taken with my brand new digital camera. It replaces the one which was lost amidst the chaos of the 2003 Kate Kennedy Club May Charity Ball. Drowned in vodka.

Instagram: @andcusack

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