The US Bishops Are Going To Take Advantage of the Midterm Elections Blowout

The US Conference of Catholic Bishops face 'new challenges,' according to progressive Catholic Modernist outlets, and are accused of - if you can believe it - being reactionary and conservative.

Let's Talk About Medieval Werewolves...

From MedievalMadness

Ever since pagan times, lycanthropes have been a part of European culture and the Medievals were just as fascinated with them as we are today. We think of them as cursed humans, fated to transform into a bloodthirsty monster with every full moon. A supernatural being that stalks their human prey, with vicious claws and ferocious teeth whose only vulnerability is silver weapons. But this is not the medieval werewolf. So, let’s travel back to the Middle Ages and find out how these shapeshifters 0:00 Introduction 0:57 Hungry Like the Wolf 03:37 Of Wolf and Man 04:51 The White Devil 08:48 A Viking In Wolves Clothing 11:11 Baron Wolf SOURCES: Beresford, M. (2013) The White Devil: The Werewolf in European Culture, Reaktion Books, London. Cambrensis, Giraldus (1172) The History and Topography of Ireland, Penguin Books, London. Hopkins, A. Dr. (Nov 2014) The Medieval Werewolf, Centre for the study of Renaissance, University of Warwick Website. Lecouteux, C. (2003) Witches, werewolves and fairies: shapeshifters and astral doubles in the Middle Ages, Inner Traditions, Rochester, Vt. Lindahl, C. et al ed. (2002) Medieval Folklore: a guide to myths, legends, tales, beliefs and customs, Oxford University Press, New York. Medieval Histories, (Feb 2023) Why was the Medieval Wolf Hunted to Extinction? Nature History Heritage, Medieval Histories Website. SENTENTIAEANTIQUAE (Oct 2015) Don’t Let A Wolf See You First, Pliny the Elder on Superstition and Lycanthropy, SENTENTIAE ANTIQUAE Website. Su, M. (Oct 2019) Medieval Werewolves, Medievalists.net. Watts, P. (2022-2026) Werewolves in Medieval Europe, Medieval History Website.

Traditional Catholic Morning Prayers in English | November

Traditional Catholic morning prayers to lay a strong foundation for the rest of your day! The month of November is dedicated to the Holy Souls in Purgatory. I hope these prayers increase your devotion to Our Lord and draw us closer to Him, Jesus Christ. Begin each day with morning prayer! This video is a compilation of many traditional evening prayers Catholics say, and should not be considered a replacement for those who have an obligation to pray the Divine Office morning prayers.

When the Host Sticks to Your Mouth, Don't Believe This Myth

From Totus Catholica

Most of what you have seen about this is wrong. When the host sticks to the roof of your mouth, should you be afraid? This video separates an ordinary physical experience at Holy Communion from frightening claims about sin and spiritual oppression. The deeper question is not why the Host sticks, but whom Catholics believe they receive. Follow the biblical thread from manna in the wilderness and the bread of the Presence to Jesus' words, "This is my body." Discover how the Church's teaching on the Real Presence invites us beyond fear toward reverence, prayer, and confession when needed. If worries about Communion have become overwhelming, speak with a trusted priest or spiritual director rather than treating physical sensations as a verdict on your soul. In this video: • The stuck Host myth and why it causes unnecessary fear • Manna and the bread of the Presence as Eucharistic foreshadowings • Why Christ is present whole and entire in each part • Receiving Holy Communion with reverence rather than anxiety ⏱ CHAPTERS 0:00 The Host Sticking to Your Mouth 1:06 Communion Myths and Spiritual Fear 2:07 Manna and the Bread of the Presence 3:59 Early Christians and the Real Presence 5:06 Why the Host Sometimes Sticks 6:53 Communion, Confession, and Scrupulosity 7:59 Is the Eucharist Only a Symbol? 📖 SCRIPTURE REFERENCED Exodus 16:15: manna in the wilderness. Exodus 25:23-30: the table and bread before God. Leviticus 24:5-9: twelve loaves and their sacred use. 1 Samuel 21:1-6: David receives the holy bread. John 6:51: the living bread and Christ's flesh. 1 Corinthians 11:27-29: receiving worthily and discerning the body. ⛪ CHURCH FATHERS & THE CATECHISM Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, Mystagogical Catechesis 5;21 (4th century): receiving with care and reverence. Catechism of the Catholic Church 1374: Christ truly, really, and substantially present. Catechism 1377: the whole Christ in each species and each part. Catechism 1385: preparation for Communion and reconciliation when conscious of grave sin. 📜 SOURCES & FURTHER READING Catechism, the Eucharist: https://www.vatican.va/archive/ENG001... Cyril's fifth Mystagogical Catechesis, also numbered Catechetical Lecture 23: https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/310... Communion fast, Code of Canon Law, canon 919: water and medicine do not break the fast. 🔗 EXPLORE MORE Website: https://totuscatholica.org/ Rosary Guide: https://totuscatholica.org/rosary Contact: https://totuscatholica.org/contact Examination of Conscience: https://catholicexaminationofconscien... Free eBooks: https://buymeacoffee.com/totuscatholi... Become a Totus Insider: https://buymeacoffee.com/totuscatholi...

Wisdom From St Martin for Veterans Day and Always

Today is the Feast of St Martin of Tours. It is also Remembrance or Veterans Day, which is apt, since St Martin was a soldier who became a reluctant Bishop.

From Aleteia

By Dr Annabelle Moseley, TOCarm

It is through St. Martin that we receive the word “chapel.” His wisdom reminds us to keep earthly things and heavenly things in proper order.

Born in 336 in what is now Hungary, St. Martin of Tours was the son of pagans. His father was a Roman officer and expected Martin to follow that career path. Meanwhile, St. Martin felt drawn to Christianity from a very tender age, and began to secretly study the faith. Martin was only 15 when he joined the Roman army.

While he was in the army, Martin once came upon a beggar shivering with cold and so Martin used his sword to divide his own cloak in two, giving one half to the poor man. That night, Martin had a dream in which he saw Jesus wearing the half-cloak and telling an army of angels, "Here is Martin, the Roman soldier, who is only a catechumen but has clothed me."

Indeed, when Martin gave his cloak to the beggar, he was really giving it to Jesus Himself. Martin left the army, declaring it was now time for him to become a soldier for God. This Patron Saint of Soldiers’ feast day is November 11, wonderfully the same day as Veterans Day in the United States.

St. Martin went on to become a disciple of St. Hilary, and a miracle-worker, even raising people who had died back to life through the power of Christ. Eventually he became Bishop of Tours, in 372. He focused much of his energy on fighting paganism, even destroying pagan temples and monuments when he encountered them.

One of the most interesting facts about St. Martin is that it is through him we receive the word “chapel.” This is because the half of Martin’s cloak was treasured as a relic and kept in a special sanctuary for pilgrims to visit. This place came to be called a “chapel,” from the Latin “cappella,” which means “little cloak.”

St. Martin of Tours died in 397.

Here are 3 quotes from St. Martin of Tours:

“Lord, if Your people still have need of my services, I will not avoid the toil. Your will be done. I have fought the good fight long enough. Yet if You bid me continue to hold the battle line in defense of your camp, I will never beg to be excused from failing strength. I will do the work you entrust to me.”

This is a great quote to remember especially the next time we are faced with charitable or virtuous work we would rather not do at a time we are feeling weak or tired.

"With the sign of the Cross, I shall more certainly break through the ranks of the enemy than if armed with shield and sword."

This quote from St. Martin of Tours reminds of the potency of the sign of the Cross as a powerful defense when one is struggling, fearful, or facing a challenge.

"Allow me, brothers, to look toward heaven rather than at the earth, so that my spirit may set on the right course when the time comes for me to go on my journey to the Lord."

This is a great reminder to not become too attached to what is worldly, and to focus on getting to heaven instead of being bogged down by earthly distractions. What are some ways that you keep your gaze towards heaven? 

Celebrating St. Martin

We can celebrate St. Martin of Tours and ask for his intercession this November as we celebrate his feast day in enjoyable, time-honored ways. 

The feast of the great St. Martin traditionally became known as Martinmas, or the Mass of St. Martin, and was a day for having a hearty meal of choice beef or goose. On this evening, adults and children would march outside after dark, holding lanterns and singing holy songs. This is a beautiful tradition I have kept alive with my own family.

An exciting way to celebrate Martinmas with children is to have a delicious dinner and then head outside with paper lanterns or mason jars containing battery-operated tea lights: a powerful symbol of being light in the darkness.

Why not lead the family outside to your favorite statues of saints or the Blessed Mother and sing songs together such as “Christ Be Our Light.” It makes for an evening you won’t soon forget!

Let us also give to the poor on Martinmas, especially if we are able to donate coats and clothes, remembering the generous act of St. Martin for the beggar. 

Happy Martinmas! St. Martin of Tours, pray for us!

Dom Prosper Guéranger's Prayer to St Martin for France

From Dom Prosper Guéranger's Liturgical Year:

How lamentable, above all, has become the destitution of France, which thou didst once enrich with the blessings of heaven, and where thy benefits have been requited with such injuries! Deign to consider, however, that our days have seen the beginning of reparation, close by thy holy tomb restored to our filial veneration. Look upon the piety of those grand Christians, whose hearts were able, like the generosity of the multitude, to rise to the height of the greatest projects; see the pilgrims, however reduced their numbers, now taking once more the road to Tours, traversed so often by people and kings in better days of our history.



Has that history of the brightest days of the Church, of the reign of Christ as King, come to an end, O Martin? Let the enemy imagine he has already sealed our tomb. But the story of thy miracles tells us that thou canst raise up even the dead. Was not the catechumen of Ligugé snatched from the land of the living, when thou didst call him back to life and Baptism? Supposing that, like him, we were already among those whom the Lord remembereth no more, the man or the country that has Martin for protector and father need never yield to despair. If thou deign to bear us in mind, the Angels will come and say again to the supreme Judge: “This is the man, this is the nation for whom Martin prays;” and they will be commanded to draw us out of the dark regions where dwell the people without glory, and to restore us to Martin, and to our noble destinies. (Sulpit. Sever. Vita. 7)

Thy zeal, however, for the advancement of God’s kingdom knew no limits. Inspire, then, strengthen and multiply the apostles all over the world, who, like thee, are driving out the remnants of infidelity. Restore Christian Europe, which still honors thy name, to the unity to unhappily dissolved by schism and heresy. In spite of the many efforts to the contrary, maintain thy noble fatherland in its post of honor, and in its traditions of brave fidelity. May thy devout clients in all lands experience that thy right arm still suffices to protect those who implore thee.

In heaven today, as the Church sings, (Ant. ad Magnificat, in I Vesp.) the Angels are full of joy, the Saints proclaim thy glory, the Virgins surround thee saying: “Remain with us forever.” Is not this the continuation of what thy life was here on earth, when thou and the virgins vied with each other in showing mutual veneration; when Mary their Queen, accompanied by Thecla and Agnes, loved to spend long hours with thee in thy cell at Marmoutier, which thus became, says thy historian, like the dwellings of the Angels? (Sulpit. Sever. Dialog 1) Imitating their brothers and sisters in heaven, virgins and monks, clergy and pontiffs turn to thee, never fearing that their numbers will cause any one of them to receive less; knowing that thy life is a light sufficient to enlighten all; and that one glance from Martin will secure to them the blessings of the Lord.

Stalled Miracles: Why Pre-Vatican II Popes Aren't Becoming Saints

They're canonising the Council!

From Purely Catholic

Out of 266 popes in Catholic history, over 80 are canonised saints. But a curious pattern has emerged in the modern era: nearly every single pope since the mid-20th century is on the fast track to sainthood, while historic titans like Pius XII, Leo XIII, and Pius XI remain frozen in historical limbo. Why was Pope John Paul II canonised in record speed, while popes who led the Church through World War II or authored defining encyclicals have their causes stalled or ignored entirely? Is papal sainthood a genuine recognition of heroic virtue, or has the canonisation process turned into an exercise in institutional politics and Vatican II validation?

St Menna of Egypt ~ A Little Known Bi-Ritual Saint

St Menna, called the Great Martyr Mena in the East, is celebrated in both Traditions today. Here is his story from both East and West.

From the East:

✠✠✠✠✠

The Holy Great Martyr Mēnás, an Egyptian by birth, was a military officer and served in the Kotyaeion region of Phrygia under the centurion Firmilian during the reign of Emperors Diocletian (284-305) and Maximian (305-311). He was praised and admired for his bravery in battle, his patience, and his self-discipline.

In 298, the Emperors published an edict ordering everyone to worship the idols. Those serving in the Legions were ordered to capture and persecute Christians. As soon as Saint Mēnás heard this impious decree he threw down his soldier’s belt (a sign of military rank) and withdrew to a mountain above Kotyaeion, where he lived an ascetical life of fasting and prayer. He spent a long time in the wilderness, suffering great privation and laboring in feats of prayer, fasting, and nocturnal vigils. Thus, the Saint purified himself of every passion of soul and body.

When his heart was strengthened with godly zeal, and his soul aflame with love for God, divine grace came upon him and he had a vision. He regarded this as a sign that he was to follow the path of martyrdom. Therefore, he left the mountain and went into the city, where the people were celebrating a pagan festival.

At that time, Saint Mēnás was approximately fifty years old. Standing in the midst of the crowd, he shouted: "There is only one true God, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Your "gods" are demons, and your idols have been fashioned by craftsmen. These inanimate objects are nothing but metal, wood, and stone."

Those who heard his voice left their dancing and their games and went to see who had disrupted their idolatrous festival, marvelling at his boldness. They seized and beat him, then brought him before Pyrrhus, the City Prefect. When he saw Mēnás he asked him who he was, and why he was creating a disturbance. The Saint replied, "I am an Egyptian, a servant of Jesus Christ, the Ruler of all things. I was a soldier and I served in the Imperial Army for most of my life. But since the Emperor has chosen to follow the path of idolatry, and to persecute Christians, I chose to dwell with the wild animals in the wilderness rather than obey the impious commands of those who do not know God."

When the Prefect heard this he became enraged and had the Saint thrown into prison.

The next morning, Pyrrhus urged Saint Mēnás to return to the Army, offering to restore his former rank if he would offer sacrifice to the pagan "gods". Mēnás refused, and so he was subjected to many cruel tortures. The Prefect urged him to submit to the edict and offer sacrifice to the idols, but the Martyr remained firm in his Faith, saying that he would never deny Christ. Pyrrhus ordered further torments, but seeing that he could not persuade Saint Mēnás, he ordered that he be taken outside the city and beheaded. As he was being led to the place of execution, he asked his friends (who were secret Christians) to take his body back to Egypt for burial when the persecution had ceased. These friends gathered Martyr’s relics at night and hid them until the persecution was over. Later, they were brought to Egypt and placed in a church dedicated to Saint Mēnás southwest of Alexandria.

Saint Mēnás received the crown of martyrdom in the year 304. By God's grace, he continues to work miracles for those who entreat him with faith and love. He is known for healing various illnesses, delivering people from demonic possession, and is a protector, especially during times of war.

In 1942, General Erwin Rommel had conquered almost all of North Africa and was heading toward Alexandria. The Nazis had reached El Alamein,(footnote 1) where they camped for the night, intending to attack Alexandria in the morning. Saint Mēnás, however, did not allow this to happen. At midnight (October 23-24). certain people noticed Saint Mēnás coming out of his ancient church leading camels into the German camp. Overcome by panic, weakness, and confusion, Rommel's troops fled. The battle ended on November 4th with the enemy in full retreat. It is regarded as a turning point in the whole war. Later, Winston Churchill said: "Before Alamein, we never had a victory. After Alamein, we never had a defeat."

The Allies offered that place to Patriarch Christophoros of Alexandria so that the church of Saint Mēnás could be rebuilt.

We pray to Saint Mēnás to ask for his help in finding lost objects.

(footnote 1) A corruption of the name of Saint Mēnás

Troparion — Tone 4

Your holy martyrs, O Lord, / through their sufferings have received incorruptible crowns from You, our God. / For having Your strength, they laid low their adversaries, / and shattered the powerless boldness of demons. / Through their intercessions, save our souls!

Kontakion — Tone 8

Today the church honours those who fought the good fight and died for their faith: / The victorious Menas, the noble Victor and the ascetic Vincent. / The church glorifies their divine struggle and cries out with love: / Glory to You, O Christ, the lover of mankind.

From the West:

✠✠✠✠✠

From Fr Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints:

THE edicts of Dioclesian were rigorously executed in the East, when Mennas or Menas, an Egyptian by birth, a soldier in the Roman troops, then quartered at Cotyus in Phrygia, was apprehended, and, boldly confessing his faith, cruelly scourged, then tormented in the most inhuman manner on the rack, and at length beheaded, by the command of Pyrrhus, the president, probably about the year 304. His name has been always very famous in the calendars of the church, especially in the East. See the first acts of this martyr, translated in Surius, who borrowed them from Metaphrastes. They are warmly defended and extolled by Falconius, p. 30. The second acts in Surius, ascribed to Timothy, patriarch of Alexandria, in 380, deserve little credit. (See Tillem. t. 5, in Peter of Alex. n. 4.) Lambecius mentions other acts of this saint, t. 8, p. 269. See Fabricius, Bibl. Gr. t. 6, p. 548.

Feast of St Martin (Martinmas)

Complete with a recipe for your Martinmas goose for the feast! Enjoy the Feast, and let's hope for a St Martin's Summer! Happy St Martin's Day!

From FishEaters

St. Martin of Tours -- "The Glory of Gaul" -- was born around A.D. 316 in Szombathely, Hungary (known then as Sabaria, Pannonia) and grew up the son of a Roman military officer in Pavia, Italy. He joined the Roman army and was sent to Amiens, where, on horseback, he met a starving man begging alms at the city gates. Moved by deep compassion, he tore his red, woolen his cloak in two with his sword and gave half to the beggar. The next night, he had a dream in which he saw Jesus wearing the half of the cloak he'd given away, surrounded by angels. In the dream, Our Lord asked him to look at it and to see if he recognized it. He did, of course, and realized that he must convert and devote his life to Christ. (St. Martin's remaining piece of cloak became a very revered relic. In fact, the building where his cloak -- "cappa" in Latin -- was preserved was known as the "cappella," the root of our words "chapel" and "chaplain.")

When he was around 20 years of age, some Teutons invaded Gaul and were repelled. When he went before Emperor Julian to receive his reward, he was moved to refuse the bounty, saying "Up to now, I have served you as a soldier; allow me henceforth to serve Christ. Give the bounty to these others who are going out to battle. I am a soldier of Christ and it is not lawful for me to fight." Julian accused him of cowardice and had him imprisoned, but he was released after a truce was called.

He got out of the army in Worms and, after spending time at Isola d'Albenga (then Gallinaria), met up with St. Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers and became his disciple, living a solitary life until others gathered around him, forming the Benedictine Abbey of Ligugé. After a decade of this life, he went on journeys around the area to preach the Gospel, and his popularity grew to such an extent that when St. Hilary of Poitier's successor died, the people of the town elected St. Martin to succeed him as Bishop, in spite of St. Martin's protests. Indeed, St. Martin was rather "tricked" into the position. 

According to the Catholic Encyclopedia:
When St. Lidorius, second Bishop of Tours, died in 371 or 372, the clergy of that city desired to replace him by the famous hermit of Ligugé [St. Martin]. But, as Martin remained deaf to the prayers of the deputies who brought him this message, it was necessary to resort to a ruse to overcome his resistance. A certain Rusticius, a rich citizen of Tours, went and begged him to come to his wife, who was in the last extremity, and to prepare her for death. Without any suspicions, Martin followed him in all haste, but hardly had he entered the city when, in spite of the opposition of a few ecclesiastical dignitaries, popular acclamation constrained him to become Bishop of the Church of Tours.

As Bishop, he led an exemplary simple life, a life that inspired the formation of yet another monastery, one called Marmoutier. He fought battles against the Priscillianists and Ithacians, evangelized and set up religious communities as far away as Paris and Vienne, visited every parish in his large diocese each year, and died around the age of 81, so loved that he became known as "The Glory of Gaul." St. Martin is the patron of beggars, vintners, equestrians, soldiers, tailors, innkeepers, alcoholics, and geese. He is usually depicted in art on horseback, handing half of his cloak to a beggar, or relinquishing his arms. His symbol is the goose. You may also see him riding on a donkey based on the apocryphal story of him walking to Rome and meeting up with the devil, who mocked him for not riding on a donkey as a Bishop should. St. Martin turned the devil into a donkey and rode him all the way to Rome, urging him on with the Sign of the Cross. The angered devil cursed him with this palindrome:
Signa te Signa: temere me tangis et angis:
Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor

("Cross, cross thyself, you plague and vex me without need
For by my labors you shall soon reach Rome, the object of your wishes")

St. Martin's Feast is considered the first day of Winter for practical purposes, so, alluding to the snows of that season, the Germans say that "St Martin comes riding on a white horse." Of course, it might not feel like Winter if one is experiencing a "St. Martin's Summer" -- the equivalent of an "Indian Summer." It is said, too, that one can predict what sort of Winter one will have by the conditions of St. Martin's Day: "If the geese at Martin’s Day stand on ice, they will walk in mud at Christmas."

The Feast coincides not only with the end of the Octave of All Souls, but with harvest time, the time when newly-produced wine is ready for drinking, and the end of winter preparations, including the butchering of animals (an old English saying is "His Martinmas will come as it does to every hog," meaning "he will get his comeuppance" or "everyone must die"). Because of this, St. Martin's Feast is much like the American Thanksgiving (celebrated on the 4th Thursday in November) -- a celebration of the earth's bounty. Because it also comes before the penitential season of Advent, it is seen as a mini "carnivale" with all the feasting and bonfires. As at Michaelmas on 29 September, goose is eaten in most places (the goose is a symbol for St. Martin himself. It is said that as he was hiding from the people who wanted to make him Bishop, a honking goose gave away his hiding spot), but unlike most Catholics, those of Britain and Ireland prefer pork or beef on this day.

Goose with Apple Stuffing
(Martinsgans mit Apfelfüllung) (Serves 6 to 8)

1 ready-to-cook goose (8 to 10 pounds)
2 cups water
1 small onion, sliced
1 1/4 teaspoon salt
6 cups soft bread crumbs
3 tart apples, chopped
2 stalks celery (with leaves), chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1/4 cup margarine or butter, melted
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon ground sage
1/2 teaspoon ground thyme
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup all-purpose flour

Trim excess fat from goose. Heat giblets, water, sliced onion and 1 1/4 teaspoons salt to boiling; reduce heat. Cover and simmer until giblets are done, about 1 hour. Strain broth; cover and refrigerate. Chop giblets; toss with remaining ingredients except 1 teaspoon salt and the flour. Rub cavity of goose with 1 teaspoon salt. Fold wings across back with tips touching. Fill neck and body cavities of goose lightly with stuffing. Fasten neck skin of goose to back with skewers. Fasten opening with skewers; lace with string. Tie drumsticks to tail. Prick skin all over with fork. Place goose breast side up on rack in shallow roasting pan. Roast uncovered in 350° oven until done, 3 to 3 1/2 hours, removing excess fat from pan occasionally. Place a tent of aluminium foil loosely over goose during last hour to prevent excessive browning. Goose is done when drumstick meat feels very soft. Place goose on heated platter. Let stand 15 minutes for easier carving. Meanwhile, pour drippings from pan into bowl. Return 1/4 cup drippings to pan. Stir in flour. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until smooth and bubbly. Remove from heat. If necessary, add enough water to reserved broth to measure 2 cups. Stir into flour mixture. Heat to boiling, stirring constantly. Boil and stir 1 minute. Serve goose with apple stuffing and gravy. Guten Appetit! (Recipe from the German Embassy)

If you eat goose, save the furcula -- the "wish bone" -- from the bird's chest. Physician Johannes Hartlieb wrote in 1455,

When the goose has been eaten on St. Martin's Day or Night, the oldest and most sagacious keeps the breast-bone and allowing it to dry until the morning examines it all around, in front, behind and in the middle. Thereby they divine whether the winter will be severe or mild, dry or wet, and are so confident in their prediction that they will wager their goods and chattels on its accuracy.

Afterward, the dried wish bone -- which, in essence, can be seen as the birds' fused clavicles, or collar bones -- can be tugged on by a person at each end as they each make a wish. The person who ends up with the larger part after the bone breaks is the person whose wish is said to come true.

In many countries, including Germany, Martinmas celebrations begin at the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of this eleventh day of the eleventh month. Bonfires are built, and children carry lanterns in the streets after dark, singing songs for which they are rewarded with candy.

And on a macabre final note, old superstitious folklore (not Catholic teaching, of course) says that if you stand in the back of the church and look out over the congregants on St. Martin's Day, you can see auras of light around the heads of those who will not be among the living at the next Martinmas.

For further reading, see "On the Life of St. Martin" by Sulpicius Severus, in this site's Catholic Library.

Note: In America, November 11 is also Veterans Day -- the day to remember those who've served their country in the Armed Forces. In the United Kingdom and Commonwealth countries such as Canada and Australia, the day is known as Remembrance Day, and focuses more strictly on those who've died while serving their country in the Armed Forces (for Americans, this more strict focus is observed on Memorial Day, the last Monday in May). Veterans Day and Remembrance Day both began as "Armistice Day," which is the anniversary of the World War I Armistice (truce) signed in the Forest of Compiegne by the Allies and the Germans in 1918. In all of these countries, red poppies are worn to honor the fallen.

How People Power Created Remembrance Day

This is from 2014, but it is an excellent explanation of how Remembrance Day was not a big, planned, PR event to glorify war as many leftists claim.

When Big Ben struck 11 o’clock on the morning of November 11, 1919, nobody quite knew what would happen next. Even the King was nervous.

It was exactly a year since the guns had fallen silent on the Western Front, signalling the end of the ‘war to end all wars’ that had cost the Empire alone nearly a million lives.

And although no official national commemoration had been planned, George V, in consultation with his advisers, had taken it upon himself to propose a ceremony without precedent in British history.

‘I believe,’ he had announced, ‘that my people in every part of the Empire fervently wish to perpetuate the memory of the Great Deliverance, and those who laid down their lives to achieve it.’

He suggested that ‘at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, there may be, for the brief space of two minutes, a complete suspension of all our normal activities’.

Respect: Soldiers pass the Cenotaph in July 1919 - 

four months before Britain's first Remembrance Day

It was a bold idea. But from the outset, the King’s plan had been widely criticised. Some believed that it could degenerate into ‘a sort of cheap theatricalism’. Evelyn Waugh, later a bestselling author but then a schoolboy, wrote in his diary that it was ‘a disgusting idea of artificial nonsense and sentimentality. No one thought of the dead last year. Why should they now?’

Most worrying was that there was little officials could do to ensure the success of the event. Although basic arrangements were made — such as all public transport being halted and the police stopping traffic in the capital — officials simply had to trust the public’s sense of decency and decorum.

In the event, neither they nor the King need have worried. The two minutes’ silence was observed by the British public to a degree that few had even dared dream possible.

Despite the naysayers, the nation embraced the act of remembrance with a depth of feeling that, a century later, has its echoes in the millions of visitors now flocking to the Tower of London’s memorial of ceramic poppies.

Long before the chiming of 11am, vast crowds had gathered at the temporary wood-and-plaster cenotaph — its literal meaning: empty tomb — which had been put up in Whitehall four months previously for an Armistice parade. Although by now somewhat worn, it became the focus for a huge outpouring of national commemoration.

So great was the throng that Whitehall quickly became impassable, as it would remain for the whole day.

Flowers had to be passed over people’s heads to be placed on the monument. When a wreath sent by the King arrived, mounted police had to force a passage so that it could be laid.

As the 11 chimes of Big Ben finally rang out, a stillness descended on the crowd. At the centre of the world’s greatest city, human activity ceased. Some fell to their knees, clasping their hands in prayer. Others stood, heads bowed, weeping. The silence was broken only by the occasional murmur. One small boy, looking up at his mother, clad all in black and gazing at the cenotaph, whispered: ‘Is Daddy in there, Mother?’

In cities, towns and villages across the country, the pattern was repeated. From Cornwall to Caithness, no corner of the land had been untouched by the ravages of the war, and nobody was yet ready to forget.

On the packed platforms at Crewe railway station in Cheshire, former soldiers stood to attention while one elderly man, who had lost four sons, knelt in silent prayer. Workers stopped at telephone exchanges and telegraph offices, temporarily cutting off the country from the rest of the world.

The intensity of the moment, the raw emotions that it conjured up, caught many by surprise. The idea of such a commemoration seemed utterly alien to some, yet when it happened, it appeared instantly British.

‘It is a strong national trait that we do not carry our hearts on our sleeves,’ observed one newspaper. ‘Anything like a display of emotion is, and was, particularly in pre-war days, quite foreign to the British character. But the Great War has changed the outlook on many things.’

Later, the King wrote a letter of gratitude to Sir Percy Fitzpatrick, a pro-British South African author and politician, whose eldest son had been killed in the war and who had suggested to the Prime Minister and Buckingham Palace that the silence observed daily in Cape Town throughout hostilities might be replicated across the Empire on November 11.

Alas, the extraordinary national unity of that two-minute silence was not to last. The enthusiastic response could not conceal the anger and grief of families across the land.
Over the next few years, Britain’s rulers would come into sharp disagreement with the people over how the Great War should be seen; whether it should be viewed as a victory or a disaster, whether triumph, grief or restitution should be the dominant theme and, above all, how it should be remembered.

Even on that first Armistice Day anniversary, a discordant note had been struck.

‘The clergy were in scarlet, and were wearing medals as if in thanksgiving for victory,’ noted one newspaper of a service held later that day in Westminster Abbey. ‘But the people, on the anniversary of the day when the war was won, chose instead to mourn their dead. There was no sense of triumph.’

Nowhere was this more evident than in an unofficial ceremony at the temporary cenotaph, immediately after that first two minutes’ silence.

If the silence had been intended to remember the dead, this, instead, drew attention to the survivors who faced an uncertain future, still recovering from hideous injuries and shattered minds.

A small ensemble of former bandsmen led a parade of several hundred disabled ex-servicemen, the blind being supported by friends, and those who had lost limbs on crutches. The procession made all too vividly real the horrors of the conflict.

‘This touching spectacle brought tears to the eyes of many of the onlookers,’ said one report. ‘Women cried freely. Men stood with faces marked with intense emotion.’

The parade ended with a bagpipe lament and the playing of the Last Post on a solo bugle. The use of the humble, functional bugle — rather than a cavalry call proclaimed with ceremonial splendour by state trumpeters — was a poignant, heartrending lament for the hundreds of thousands of ordinary husbands, sons and fathers for whom the nation grieved.

Although the origins of its haunting melody are unknown, the Last Post had been used since the beginning of the 18th century in Army camps to mark the ending of the day and the sealing of perimeter fences. In hostelries and brothels, it was sounded to alert Army personnel that they should return to their headquarters.

During the previous 50 years or so, however — and particularly during World War I — the tune had taken on a new significance. No longer just a military signal, it had become a powerful symbol for the ending of a life, rather than the literal close of a day.

 During the Battle of the Somme, a tradition arose that the dead were buried at the beginning and end of each day. Morning and evening, a bugler would stand over every grave, playing the Last Post.

Soon the tradition spread to services back home, honouring the deceased. A service of thanksgiving at St Paul’s Cathedral for those who had died during the doomed Gallipoli campaign was described in a contemporary report: ‘The silver notes of the Last Post, sobbing and echoing through the aisles, conveyed a sense of an open graveside, and caused many women to sink to their seats and burst quietly into tears.’

That first Armistice Day commemoration in 1919 would complete the melody’s transformation from practical signal into the unique, almost sacred, symbol it has become for both army personnel and civilians today.

For the sound of a lone bugler playing the Last Post must surely be one of the most distinctive gifts bequeathed to the world by the British Army. It has spanned the globe, becoming a mournful lament for the dead that has been adopted by governments of all types and groups of every persuasion: by imperialists and pacifists, by conservatives and communists, by Christian, Jew, Hindu, Muslim and atheist.

No respecter of rank and privilege, it has sounded at the gravesides of millions of soldiers as well as those of kings and emperors, and of world leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela.

By the end of 1919, although other symbols of remembrance — the wearing of poppies and the construction of war memorials across the country — were yet to come, the Last Post and the two minutes’ silence had already been inextricably linked in the public’s mind with the commemoration of its heroes.

If the plaintive spirituality of the Last Post could be captured in musical form, then the Cenotaph was its physical form — and remains the focus of the nation’s mourning.
As early as July 1919 there had been repeated calls for the temporary structure to become a permanent memorial to Britain’s war dead.

However, there were dissident voices. Sir Alfred Mond, a Liberal MP and the commissioner of works in David Lloyd George’s coalition government, reported to the Cabinet: ‘The monument, although appropriate for the occasion, may not be regarded as sufficiently important and may be of too mournful a character as a permanent expression of the triumphant victory of our arms.’ But he had badly misjudged the mood of the nation, assuming triumphalism to be the keynote, rather than deep, abiding sorrow.
Mond also objected to the floral tributes being laid daily at the Cenotaph. ‘A mass of decaying flowers needs almost daily attention, besides tending to attract crowds,’ he wrote.

The government was finally persuaded, however, that the original structure — simply and strikingly designed by Britain’s most celebrated architect, Sir Edwin Lutyens — should be remade in stone.

Despite concerns about siting it ‘in the midst of the traffic of Whitehall’, the spot was now being treated as holy ground by the public. The Daily Mail took up the campaign, arguing that the place ‘had been consecrated by the tears of many mothers’.

And so, on November 11, 1920, the new, permanent stone Cenotaph was unveiled and Scotland Yard’s deputy assistant commissioner said: ‘We are prepared for the pilgrimage to last three days.’

His prediction proved to be an understatement. ‘Five days after its unveiling,’ marvelled The Spectator, ‘it was estimated that a million people had visited the Cenotaph. As we write the stream still flows on.’

A hundred thousand wreaths were laid ‘in great hedges five feet high’, and, it was said, the crowds were so dense in this ‘solemn pilgrimage’ that ‘you could walk across Whitehall over the heads of the people’. 

The Cenotaph bore no expression of faith and had been unveiled in an act ‘unaccompanied by a religious dedication’ because, as Lloyd George said: ‘Mohamedans and Hindus were among those in whose memory it stood.’

He added: ‘It has become a national shrine not only for the British Isles but also for the whole Empire.’

Even so, some disagreements about remembrance rumbled on throughout the next decade.

In 1921, although the Last Post had been sounded at the Cenotaph the previous year, it was deliberately omitted. The relevant Cabinet committee explained that ‘as Armistice Day is not a day of national grief but rather a commemoration of a great occasion in the national history, it is undesirable to lay stress upon the idea of mourning’.

Worse was to follow. In 1923, when Armistice Day fell on a Sunday for the first time since the war, it was decided that there would be no gathering at the Cenotaph. Instead, a state service at Westminster Abbey, attended by the King, would be followed by a public service in Trafalgar Square.

No sooner had these arrangements been disclosed than there was a storm of protest.

‘This by no means satisfies the sentiments of a large section of the public,’ insisted the Derby Evening Telegraph, while the Dundee Courier argued that the Cenotaph service was ‘an annual custom which has become sanctified into a kind of public sacrament’. The Western Daily Press was less polite: it was an ‘amazingly fatuous suggestion’ to discard so lightly ‘a sacrament with the man and the woman in the street’.

The idea of the Trafalgar Square gathering was clearly inadequate: there was no connection between it and the dead of World War I, nor was there any significance to the hour of three o’clock. The efforts to commemorate the fallen that had been built up over the previous five years were in danger of being ruined by an Establishment that failed to recognise the importance of the British people’s own symbols.

Among those campaigning for an annual event in Whitehall was General Bramwell Booth, head of the Salvation Army, who said that if the established Church didn’t wish to hold a Cenotaph ceremony, he would organise one himself.

In due course the Cabinet declared itself ‘deeply impressed by the volume of public feeling. There was general agreement that the desire of the public should be met.’

And so in 1928, the next year that Armistice Day fell on a Sunday, Home Secretary William Joynson-Hicks wrote a memo to the Cabinet: ‘It would be better this year to observe Armistice Day in the customary manner, the main ceremony taking place at the Cenotaph on the usual lines.’

Common sense had finally prevailed. His recommendation was acted upon, and the ceremony was safe for generations to come.

British remembrance of its heroes has long been characterised by simplicity and understatement: the humble, anonymous origins of the Last Post played on the most basic of instruments, the plainness of the Cenotaph; the accessibility and universality of the two minutes’ silence.

The latter ‘is a far more British piece of self-expression than any amount of commemorative oratory’, observed one writer in 1921. ‘It carries into a national rite the individual impulse which made so many partings wordless at the carriage doors of leave trains.’

Now, as the world marks the centenary of the outbreak of World War I, the public’s determination to remember its heroes past, present and future — in an understated, dignified and quintessentially British manner — is undimmed.

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Scapegoating the Traditionalists Instead of Fixing the Liturgy

The “liturgical problem” will drag on as long as Rome hates Tradition and refuses to crack down on the rampant abuses in the NO Mass.

From One Peter Five

By Aurelio Porfiri, PhD Candidate

"The sincere devotion and decorum demanded by so exalted a ministry..."

Over the past few decades, the “liturgical problem” has dragged on wearily, with the result that the standard of liturgy and liturgical music in our churches has continued to decline. Unfortunately, there are priests who have completely lost their sense of the beauty of the liturgy, and faithful who, having never experienced anything else, believe that certain careless, lacklustre and undignified celebrations are what the Church’s liturgy is supposed to be.

In reality, the Church’s liturgy is far more splendid than these counterfeits. Even the reformed liturgy, if celebrated with dignity and a profound sense of adoration, can certainly inspire the prayer of the People of God. Everyone understands that a dignified liturgy accompanied by genuinely liturgical music is, in any case, better than the mediocrity that prevails today.

But why are we unable to bring about a turning point in our liturgies? From what I have observed over these decades, the reason is that we lack the courage to admit that the reform has suffered some considerable failures. Instead, people prefer to create an enemy—the traditionalists—in order to avoid confronting the real problem within their own ranks. We should acknowledge that the post-Vatican II liturgical reform has failed in some very important respects, and that a genuine reform is necessary to recover the foundations of liturgical practice.

Unfortunately, the social climate of the 1960s, the decade in which Vatican II took place, did not help matters, since the Ecumenical Council became a pretext for pursuing progressive causes that were not infrequently at odds with a Christian vision of life. The liturgy became a vehicle for embracing some of these causes, which have completely distorted the message of Vatican II. Let us consider the question of participation, something that everyone can agree upon in principle, but which has been pushed to extremes that we can all witness in our own parishes. Vatican II itself put it well (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 19):

Pastors of souls must therefore zealously and patiently strive to provide liturgical instruction and also to promote the active participation of the faithful, both internal and external, according to their age, condition, way of life, and degree of religious culture. In this way they will be fulfilling one of the chief duties of a faithful dispenser of the mysteries of God; and in this matter they must lead their flock not only by word but also by example.

Participation is not merely a matter of “doing” something; it is also, and above all, an interior disposition. One participates first and foremost inwardly, by listening and experiencing the liturgy through the splendour of its forms of communication. All this becomes even clearer a little further on in the same document (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 29):

Servers, readers, commentators, and those who belong to the choir also exercise a genuine liturgical ministry. They ought, therefore, to discharge their office with the sincere devotion and decorum demanded by so exalted a ministry and rightly expected of them by God’s people. Consequently, they must all be deeply imbued with the spirit of the liturgy, each in his own measure, and they must be trained to perform their functions in a correct and orderly manner.

In other words, it is the People of God themselves who demand that the various liturgical ministries be carried out by people competent to fulfil their specific responsibilities, rather than simply assigning tasks to everyone in the name of an unhealthy conception of participation in the liturgy. Full and active participation means that each person participates fully according to their competence and their role within the People of God.

Full participation has certainly been one of the principal subjects of post-conciliar debate, but there are many other issues as well. This is precisely why we need the courage to acknowledge our failures and begin again on firmer foundations. After all, when we consult a doctor about a health problem, the first thing the doctor asks us to do is correct those habits that have probably contributed to it. We cannot simply pretend that nothing is wrong, as though mistakes could somehow correct themselves.

The Mass is the place where God and humanity encounter one another. Divo Barsotti explained this well in his book La Messa:

If the Mass possesses the highest degree of objectivity, it is precisely because it assures us of this encounter, this relationship between humanity and God, and between God and humanity. In the Mass, humanity and God meet; in the Mass, humanity and God enter into a relationship. The most essential thing of all is this relationship between humanity and God. We shall then see that within the human person lies the relationship of all human beings, that within the human person lies the relationship of all creation, both physical and spiritual, of angels and the elements. We shall then see what the relationship between humanity and God consists of; we shall then see that this God is Christ, who communicates himself to me; that he is the Father, to whom my adoration is directed; and that he is the Holy Spirit, through whom and in whom this relationship is realised. But first and foremost, this is a relationship with God, with the Divinity: it entails a relationship between two beings who are infinitely distant from one another, who have no relationship of their own apart from the absolute dependence of the human person upon God. Two infinitely distant realities meet in the Mass: God and humanity.

How can our liturgies today foster this encounter if they are celebrated carelessly and without dignity? Let us pray that those responsible will have the courage to begin again where we have failed.