Joseph Ratzinger became Pope Benedict XVI and never stopped trying to correct what he saw as the Council's errors. Unfortunately, his successor completely changed course and embraced them.
From Rorate Cæli
By Michael Charlier
The musings and meandering thoughts of a crotchety old man as he observes life in the world and in a small, rural town in South East Nebraska. I hope to help people get to Heaven by sharing prayers, meditations, the lives of the Saints, and news of Church happenings. My Pledge: Nulla dies sine linea ~ Not a day without a line.
Joseph Ratzinger became Pope Benedict XVI and never stopped trying to correct what he saw as the Council's errors. Unfortunately, his successor completely changed course and embraced them.
From Rorate Cæli
By Michael Charlier
I wish I could, indeed, spend an evening with Dr Johnson! He was a solid Tory, defining Whig as "The name of a faction" and a Tory as "One who adheres to the ancient constitution of the state, and the apostolical hierarchy of the church of England, opposed to a Whig."
From The Imaginative Conservative
By Joseph Pearce
Turning the pages of a volume of essays by Samuel Johnson, I felt at once that I had discovered a new friend, who shared with his admirer G.K. Chesterton the ability to make us see the everyday things of life with a new sense of wonder.
The inimitable Dr. Johnson was just a famous name to me until I read the equally inimitable G.K. Chesterton. In discovering Chesterton’s admiration for Dr. Johnson, I discovered ipso facto someone worth admiring. If Chesterton liked Samuel Johnson, clearly I should like him too. Any friend of Chesterton’s was a friend of mine.
As I sought to illustrate in last week’s essay on Chesterton and Dr. Johnson, the former considered the latter a “great religious genius”, who “judged all things with a gigantic and detached good sense”. Clearly Dr. Johnson was someone whom I should know better. And yet he remained a stranger to me. Worse, my failure to read him constituted a veritable sin of omission. It is true that I own Boswell’s famous Life of Samuel Johnson in a handsome hardback edition, but I had only very occasionally dipped into its pages. I also own Johnson’s Rasselas, in a splendid 1819 edition, in full red Morocco and with an elaborate gilt, which has its place of honour in the antiquarian corner of my library, snuggling up to a four-volume Lives of the Saints, published in 1729. There it sat for years, untouched and largely unheeded, until I took it from the shelf at the end of 2024 and finally read it, to my great delight. I know the date because I listed it amongst “the best books I read in 2024” for an end-of-the-year feature in Catholic World Report. Having finally read it, I can fully appreciate and agree with Chesterton’s description of it as a “philosophical satire on philosophy” and his opinion that its author was “a philosopher mocking philosophers”.
Having had my appetite whetted by the brilliance of Rasselas, it surprises me that I would neglect Dr. Johnson for a further two years. Haunted by Chesterton’s praise for his “titanic intellectual power of logic” and his “love of humility, humanity, and of good and simple things”, I plucked another Johnson volume from the shelf. This was a volume of his selected essays, edited by W. J. Bate and published by Yale University Press in 1968.
Making myself comfortable in my favourite armchair, I settled down for an enjoyable evening with Dr. Johnson. Turning the pages, I felt at once that I had discovered a new friend, who shared with Chesterton the ability to make us see the everyday things of life with a new sense of wonder. Take, for instance, his description of the importance of the first discovery of glass:
Who… would have imagined, that in this shapeless lump lay concealed so many conveniencies of life, as would in time constitute a great part of the happiness of the world? Yet by some such fortuitous liquefaction was mankind taught to procure a body at once in a high degree solid and transparent, which might admit the light of the sun, and exclude the violence of the wind; which might extend the sight of the philosopher to new ranges of existence… and, what is yet of more importance, might supply the decays of nature, and succour old age with subsidiary sight…. Thus was the first artificer in glass… facilitating and prolonging the enjoyment of light, enlarging the avenues of science, and conferring the highest and most lasting pleasure; he was enabling the student to contemplate nature, and the beauty to behold herself.
As I read those words, I enjoyed the same sense of surprise at the glories of the commonplace as I had experienced when I had first read Chesterton’s words about the human eye. “Give me miraculous eyes to see my eyes,” Chesterton wrote. “Those rolling mirrors made alive in me, terrible crystals more incredible, than all the things they see.”
Today, as I write these words, I am using those “rolling mirrors made alive in me” to see the words I’m writing through the glasses perched on my nose and through the glass of the computer screen. Should I look up from the screen, I can see the meadow through the glass of the casement and, beyond the meadow, the towering trees surmounted by a clear early September sky. Echoing the words and wisdom of Dr. Johnson and G.K. Chesterton, I should not merely give thanks to God for the meadow and the trees and the sky but for the eyes and the eyeglasses and the windows.
__________
The featured image is a portrait of Samuel Johnson (“Blinking Sam”), painted by Joshua Reynolds in 1775, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikipedia.
Consider first, those words of our Lord, in the third beatitude; 'Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.' And reflect how widely distant are all the maxims and notions of worldlings with relation to a happy life, from the doctrine of this beatitude, which is the doctrine of truth. The children of this world imagine that mirth, and jollity, and pastimes, and worldly pleasures, are the chief ingredients of a happy life; and that such as laugh now are much more happy, than such as weep and mourn. But they are certainly deceived: for he that cannot err, has pronounced a woe, (implying the worst of miseries,) against them that laugh now, 'for they shall mourn,' (saith he, 'and weep,' Luke vi. 25; whilst on the other hand he has declared them happy, that now weep and mourn. And the holy Spirit long before has told us, by the wisest of men, Eccl. ii. 2. 'Laughter I have counted error, and to mirth I have said, why art thou vainly deceived?' and again, Eccl. vii. 5: 'The heart of the wise is where there is mourning, and the heart of fools where there is mirth.' O let us then mourn now with the wise and with the saints, that we may rejoice with them for ever.
Consider 2ndly, what kind of mourning is here recommended in this beatitude. Not worldly sadness of which it is written, Eccles. xxx. 25, 'Sadness hath killed many, and there is no profit in it;' and 2 Cor vii. 10, 'The sorrow of this world worketh death.' Not a sullen melancholy, or any such mourning as is turbulent, or accompanied with the impatient wishes for death, or anxious solicitudes or despondency; but a more calm and peaceful mourning, viz., of compunction for our sins, daily bewailing them in the sight of God, and doing penance for them; of compassion for our neighbours, lamenting their miseries and the dismal havoc that sin is continually making amongst souls; of condolence with Jesus Christ for the outrages he daily receives from impenitent sinners, who are continually crucifying him by their wicked lives; in fine, of devotion in consideration of our long and wretched banishment, our great distance from our true country in the midst of wars and dangers, and no security but in continual watching, praying, and labouring to work out our salvation with fear and trembling; of our absence from God our sovereign good, who alone can satisfy our souls; and therefore daily mourning for the length of our sojourning in this Babylon, with longing desires after our heavenly Zion. Happy they that are always mourning in this manner!
Consider 3rdly, what the reward is that is here promised to them that mourn, 'They shall be comforted,' saith the Lord. Yea, they shall be comforted, even in this life, with the sweet visitations and grace of the Spirit of God, the true comforter of souls - with the satisfaction and peace of a good conscience, and with the experience of the inconceivable sweetness that is found in the love of God - one hour of which is capable of affording more solid pleasure and delight to the soul than many years of worldly enjoment. And in the life to come they shall be comforted without measure or end, where 'they shall be eternally inebriated with the plenty of God's house, and shall be made to drink of the torrent of his pleasure,' at the very head 'of the fountain of life,' Ps xxxv. 9, 10, the streams of which afford immortal joys to the whole city of God above. O when shall we, my soul, be so happy as to drink at this fountain!
Conclude to make it thy choice to mourn now that thou mayest rejoice for ever. Remember, that 'they that sow in tears shall reap in joy,' Ps. cxxv. 5. As on the other side, the children of the Babylon of this world, who seek their delight and comfort here, must expect hereafter to fall under that sentence of Babylon, pronounced Apoc. xviii. 7, 'As much as she hath glorified herself, and hath been in delicacies, so much sorrow give ye to her.'
SEPTEMBER 4th
There is a notion adrift everywhere that imagination, especially mystical imagination, is dangerous to man's mental balance. Poets are commonly spoken of as psychologically unreliable; and generally there is a vague association between wreathing laurels in your hair and sticking straws in it. Facts and history utterly contradict this view. Most of the very great poets have been not only sane, but extremely business-like; and if Shakespeare ever really held horses, it was because he was much the safest man to hold them. Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad, but chess-players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers, but creative artists very seldom.
'Orthodoxy.'
Having our loins, therefore, girded with faith and the performance of good works, let us walk in His paths by the guidance of the Gospel, that we may deserve to see Him Who hath called us to His kingdom. And if we wish to dwell in the tabernacle of His kingdom, we shall by no means reach it unless we run thither by our good deeds. But let us ask the Lord with the Prophet, saying to Him: “Lord, who shall dwell in Thy tabernacle, or who shall rest upon Thy holy hill?” After this question, brethren, let us hear the Lord answering, and shewing to us the way to His tabernacle, and saying: “He that walketh without stain and worketh justice: he that speaketh truth in his heart, that hath not done guile with his tongue: he that hath done no evil to his neighbour, and hath not taken up a reproach against his neighbour:” he that hath brought the malignant evil one to naught, casting him out of his heart with all his suggestions, and hath taken his bad thoughts, while they were yet young, and dashed them down upon the (Rock) Christ. These are they, who fearing the Lord, are not puffed up with their own good works, but knowing that the good which is in them cometh not from themselves but from the Lord, magnify the Lord Who worketh in them, saying with the Prophet: “Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto Thy Name give the glory.” So the Apostle Paul imputed nothing of his preaching to himself, but said: “By the grace of God I am what I am.” And again he saith: “He that glorieth, let him glory in the Lord.”
Saint Thomas Aquinas (1225 – 7 March 1274), was a Doctor of the Church, Philosopher, Theologian, Jurist, Dominican Friar, and Priest. Known as Doctor Angelicus "Angelic Doctor," and the Doctor Communis "Universal Doctor" his writings serve as a defense and proof of the validity of Christ's authority over all. The Summa contra Gentiles (also known as Liber de veritate catholicae fidei contra errores infidelium, "Book on the truth of the Catholic faith against the errors of the unbelievers"). The Summa contra Gentiles consists of four books. The structure of Saint Thomas's work is designed to proceed from general philosophical arguments for monotheism, to which Muslims and Jews are likely to consent even within their own respective religious traditions, before progressing to the discussion of specifically Christian doctrine.
By Cerith Gardiner & Agnès Pinard Legry
Nearly 130 years after her death, one tiny relic is offering a fascinating glimpse into the very physical reality of St. Thérèse's Little Way.
Almost 130 years after St. Thérèse of Lisieux died, scientists are still discovering things about the young Carmelite, and as Aleteia France shared, the latest clue has come from a rather unexpected source: her kneecap.
A new scientific study has examined one of Thérèse's patellas, preserved as a relic in the Church of St. Catherine in Honfleur, France. The small bone, protected inside a glass and gilded-metal reliquary, comes from the remains of the saint exhumed in 1923, shortly before her beatification.
Dr. Philippe Charlier, a French physician, anthropologist and paleopathologist, noticed unusual changes on the upper surface of the bone, where the quadriceps tendon attached. Known as enthesopathies, these changes included what radiologists rather wonderfully call the “patella tooth sign,” thanks to its jagged appearance, and can be associated with repeated strain on the muscle.
Such wear might be unremarkable after many decades of life. Thérèse, however, was just 24 when she died of tuberculosis in 1897, which left Charlier with an intriguing question: What had this very young woman been doing with her knees?
One possible answer lies in the daily rhythm of life at the Carmel of Lisieux. The community's ceremonial instructions were extraordinarily precise about the sisters' movements during prayer, specifying when they should stand, sit, or kneel. There were genuflections on one knee and on both knees, along with different forms of prostration, including one in which a sister kissed the ground and another in which she lay completely flat with her arms extended in the form of a cross.
And all those movements were repeated, day after day, as part of a routine Thérèse followed from the age of 15, when she entered the Carmel, until her death nine years later. Charlier believes that the constant kneeling and rising could have placed enough strain on her quadriceps to leave a trace where the tendon met the bone.
The study cannot tell us for certain that prayer caused those changes. This is a retrospective diagnosis based on a single piece of bone, and the connection with Thérèse's religious practices remains an interpretation. But the possibility offers an unusually physical glimpse into a life we tend to know through photographs, manuscripts and, increasingly, statues.
That physical dimension is particularly interesting with Thérèse because her spirituality was rooted in the ordinary. Her “Little Way” did not depend on heroic adventures or grand gestures, but on trust in God and love expressed through the smallest actions of daily life.
When Pope Francis devoted an apostolic exhortation to Thérèse in 2023, he described her earthly life as “brief, a mere 24 years, and completely ordinary,” while noting that she lived charity “in the smallest things of daily life.”
Those daily things required a body. Thérèse's knees touched the ground, her legs lifted her back up, her feet carried her through the convent and her hands performed the work assigned to her. Long before she became a statue holding roses and a crucifix, she was a young woman responding to bells, turning up for prayer, completing chores and living alongside the same small community every day.
The kneecap preserved in Honfleur cannot tell us what Thérèse was thinking as she performed any of those movements, nor can science measure the faith with which she made them. What it can reveal is that the ordinary life behind the Little Way was not an abstraction. It was lived in a body, through thousands of small actions repeated so often that some of them may eventually have left their mark on her bones.
And that may be the loveliest detail in this curious discovery. Nearly 130 years after Thérèse's death, researchers have not uncovered evidence of some dramatic, previously unknown chapter of her short life. Instead, a tiny bone may have preserved the trace of something she did over and over again: bend her knee, rise, and begin again.
For a saint who spent her life showing that the smallest actions need not be insignificant, it's quite a legacy for one little kneecap.