Depressing and hilarious all at once

Depressing and hilarious all at once

A Handful of Dust lived up to my expectations of mirth. You may recall that I laughed out loud reading the first page, and there are many more such moments.

But I can also add that Evelyn Waugh’s A Handful of Dust is one of — if not the — most distressing book I’ve ever read. An alternative title might be, The Death of a Marriage.

The first part of the novel describes the grim detail of marital infidelity. I’m not talking about sex scenes. Waugh’s a better author than that. I’m talking about the passive-aggressive manipulation which confuses the innocent party, and the rationalisation and self-deception which afflicts the traitorous party. It is a compelling and excruciating portrait of infidelity, even in the midst of comic hilarity.

Halfway through this novel I realised it is probably semi-autobiographical. Evelyn Waugh’s wife and his best friend had an affair which most of his circle learned about before he did. In fact, he learned of the affair only when his wife left him. I think the suffering and humiliation Waugh endured is given masterful expression in A Handful of Dust. (In the aftermath, depressed and overwhelmed, Waugh swam out to sea one night intending not to return. But his suicide attempt was thwarted by a stinging jellyfish attack which forced him back to shore. Is it any wonder Waugh is a master of black humour?)

Nonetheless, although the death of the protagonist’s marriage is harrowing, the plot actually gets even more depressing. Waugh kills off one of the novel’s most attractive characters, and he subjects another to a torturous fate worse than death. Again, all in the midst of comic hilarity!

As every reader knows, the measure of a good book is the feeling which comes when you finish it. If you’re sorry that it’s ended, and wish there was more, and wander around desolate for a while, then you know you’ve read a good book. In the case of A Handful of Dust, I was glad it was finished, wished I’d never read it, and resolved to recommend it to nobody.

And yet, in the days since I’ve finished A Handful of Dust, my thoughts have returned again and again to the book’s characters and themes. That’s not the measure of a good book. That’s the measure of a great book — the sort of book you can and will re-read every decade or so.

So in the end I do recommend A Handful of Dust, whole-heartedly. I concur with its popular recognition as one of the greatest novels of the twentieth century. But I completely reject the suggestion that it is Waugh’s masterpiece. Brideshead Revisited and the Sword of Honour trilogy eclipse it.

The three titles have a great deal in common. They document and critique the decline of western culture and the rise of modernity in all its banality and viciousness. But where Brideshead Revisited and Sword of Honour extol Catholicism as a glowing exception, a bastion of order holding out against chaos, A Handful of Dust barely mentions religion. Its focus is secular humanism of the noblest kind — the kind exemplified in Charles Dickens. Nonetheless, this humanism is no bastion: it is exposed as deficient and unworthy. A Handful of Dust endorses the Christian tradition, but only implicitly.

I can understand why the secular reader would prefer A Handful of Dust. It shares many themes with Brideshead Revisited and A Sword of Honour, and the economy and richness of Waugh’s prose is a joy. Moreover, it makes no demands on the reader’s faith, or their view of the Catholic religion.

Yet what Waugh achieves in A Handful of Dust is perfected in his later novels, where the negative gives way to the positive. So I can’t imagine a Catholic reader anywhere who would prefer A Handful of Dust to his explicitly Catholic novels. But perhaps I’m wrong. I’d like to hear it if I am.

 

Incidentally, there is a film adaption you can view online, but as one YouTube commenter remarks, it’s “dead boring.” Moreover, it’s probably inscrutable to anyone who hasn’t read the book first.

Ash Wednesday incoming!

Ash Wednesday incoming!

This time next week it will be Lent. Talk about a quick turn around. It feels like Christmas was only a few weeks ago!

I prepared the following notices for our parish bulletins this weekend. (You can tell I’m happily occupied with work when I consecutively post non-exclusive material to my blog!)

Ash Wednesday obligations

Ash Wednesday is a day of fasting and abstinence from meat. In Australia all Catholics over 18 and under 60 are obliged to fast. Tradition recommends one full-sized meal in the middle of the day, and two small-sized meals in the morning and the evening, which together don’t equal the large meal. Snacking between meals is not permitted. Of course, health considerations and common sense must define each person’s observance of the fast.

All Catholics aged over 14 are obliged to abstain from meat. Children aren’t obliged to fast or abstain from meat, but parents are asked to ensure they are taught the true meaning of penance.

We are not obliged to attend Mass on Ash Wednesday, nor are we obliged to receive ashes. Still, the reception of ashes is a very popular custom, and an ancient one: at least 1,000 years old.

Who can receive ashes?

Unlike the discipline regarding sacraments (communion, absolution, marriage, etc.), the Church does not regulate who can receive sacramentals.

Non-Catholics are welcome to receive the ashes, which is a sign not only of Christ’s call to conversion, but also our personal response to his call. Even people who aren’t baptised, and people who don’t believe that Jesus is Lord, identify with conversion and self-improvement.

The ashes are also a reminder of our mortality. Again, every person – Christian or not – will die, and even the pagan philosophers insisted on the benefits of pondering death, and dying well.

Who can minister ashes?

Anyone can place the ashes on a person’s head. You are welcome to take some blessed ashes home in an envelope and place the ashes on the foreheads of people who can’t get to an Ash Wednesday liturgy.

Should we keep the ashes on, or wash them off?

There is no right or wrong rule about this. It is a personal decision made in dialogue with the Holy Spirit.

In the Gospel on Ash Wednesday, our Lord instructs us:

“Be careful not to parade your good deeds to attract notice … When you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face so that no one knows you’re fasting except your Father who sees all.”

Therefore, many people wash the ashes off soon after they receive them.

Other people choose to keep the ashes visible throughout the day, as an exercise of religious freedom, or to witness to their faith. It is certainly a conversation starter! With the Holy Spirit’s help, you might be able to explain Lent to a colleague or friend in an edifying and attractive way.

Meeting the gaze of Christ

Meeting the gaze of Christ

‘PRIEST GUILTY’ was the front page headline in Hamilton’s local newspaper last Wednesday. A priest in Ballarat, who has never before been publicly associated with child abuse, pleaded guilty to crimes he committed in the 1970s.

The news shocked me, and I know it shocked many parishioners. So instead of preaching on the readings this Sunday, I spoke about the clergy abuse scandal. Tactfully, I hope. I also distributed a homily on this subject which Pope Francis preached last July. It is a beautiful example of “reading the signs of the times” in light of the Gospel.

There’s an old saying that every preacher should have a Bible in one hand, and a newspaper in the other. Something analogous could be said about every member of Christ’s faithful. It’s good to foster a supernatural outlook on current affairs, and drawing lessons from the scriptures is a great way to do that.

I formatted the pope’s homily in such a way that it is easily photocopied. Parishioners were grateful to have it. Maybe some readers will appreciate it too.

Download the PDF or view online:

What holiness looks like

What holiness looks like

Last week, my homily resembled ‘damage control.’ I had to “contextualise” one of the readings — also known as spin.

If you were at Mass, you might recall hearing St Paul warn against marriage. Celibates, he argued, are free to serve the Lord. But married people are preoccupied by worldly worries, and they’re obliged to please their spouse at the expense of God.

In the 2,000 years since, the Church has said a whole lot more about the goodness of marriage, and that includes Paul himself! A few years later he described marriage as “a great sacrament” (or mystery), which both illustrates, and can be modelled on, Christ’s love for the Church. Devotion to one’s spouse doesn’t have to detract from God; it can be a means to worship God, and witness to the Lord’s love.

I like to think Paul was impacted by the example of the Church’s first generation of married couples. The same thing happens today. A priest friend and I often swap our homily notes, and in response to my homily last week, Fr Michael alerted me to the heroic example of Chiara and Enrico Corbella.

This young couple lost their two oldest children to a congenital condition which reduced their life span to half an hour. Those who can spare 20 minutes can watch Chiara tell the story of her first pregnancy. It’s a moving account of joy, sorrow, prayer and supernatural outlook:

Chiara and Enrico’s third child was born safe and sound. But tragically, Chiara was diagnosed with terminal cancer during the pregnancy, and died about twelve months after Francesco’s birth.

The letter Chiara and Enrico wrote Francesco on his first birthday is an inspiring and credible lesson in holiness:

Dear Francesco,

Today we celebrate your first birthday, and we were asking ourselves what we can give you that will last through the years. So we have decided to write you a letter. You have been a tremendous gift to us in our lives because you have helped us to look beyond our human limits. When the doctors wanted to scare us, your life that was so fragile gave us the strength to go forward.

For what little we have learned during these years, we can tell you only that love is the centre of our lives, because we are born from an act of love, we live for love and to be loved, and we die to know the true love of God. The goal of our life is to love and to be loved, always ready to learn how to love the others as only God can teach you. Love consumes you, but it is beautiful to die consumed, exactly like a candle that goes out only when it has reached its goal.

Anything that you do in life will make sense only if you look at it in view of eternal life. If you are truly loving, you will realize this from the fact that nothing belongs to you, because everything is a gift. As St Francis says, “The opposite of love is possession.” We loved your brother and sister — Maria and Davide — and we love you, knowing that none of you are ours, that none of you were for us. And this is how it should be for everything in life. Nothing that you have ever belongs to you, because it is a gift that God gives you so that you can make it bear fruit.

Never be discouraged dear son. God never takes anything away. And if He seems to take away, it is because He wants to give you so much more. Thanks to Maria and Davide, we are even more in love with eternal life and we have stopped fearing death. God has taken from us only in order to give us a heart that is bigger and more open to welcome eternity already in this life.

In Assisi, we fell in love with the joy of the friars that live believing in God’s providence. So we ask the Lord for the grace to believe in this providence that they spoke of — to believe in this Father that truly does not make you lack anything. Brother Veto helped us on this journey in believing in this promise. We got married without anything, but we put God in first place and believed in the love that He asked us to show, taking a big leap. We have never been disappointed. We have always had a house and much more than we have ever needed.

Your name is Francesco because St Francis changed our lives, and we hope that he can be an example also for you. It’s beautiful to have examples of lives that remind you that you can expect the greatest joy already on this earth, with God as our guide. We know that you are special and that you have a great mission. The Lord has wanted you from eternity, and He will show you the road to follow if you open your heart. Trust Him. It is worth the while.

Love,

Mamma e Papa.

It is beautiful to have living reminders of the promises God makes us. Therein lies the reason and the power of celibacy for the kingdom, lived with love and generosity. But marriage, too, can serve as a great witness, as Chiara and Enrico show us.

Two Thomases of Tudor England

Two Thomases of Tudor England

“Thomas More is more important at this moment than at any moment since his death, even perhaps the great moment of his dying; but he is not quite so important as he will be in about a hundred years’ time.

“He may come to be counted the greatest Englishman, or at least the greatest historical character in English history. For he was above all things historic; he represented at once a type, a turning point and an ultimate destiny. If there had not happened to be that particular man at the particular moment, the whole of history would have been different.”

G.K. Chesterton wrote that in 1929, astutely I think. Except that 86 years later, we’re still a long way from judging More to be the greatest historical character in English history. On the contrary – and quite ironically in view of Chesterton’s reflection — the BBC’s Wolf Hall presents a distinctly unhistorical depiction of More which is comically sinister, while his adversary, Thomas Cromwell, is more or less beatified:

Some of the English bishops have weighed in, in that understated way peculiar to the English:

“One is rightly held up as a saint and one is held up as a villain in history. One is worthy of devotion and the other is worthy of learning from but not in emulating because of his ruthlessness and pursuit of power — it is hard for me to say that he (Cromwell) was driven by principles instead of by darker motives.”

However, there’s no great need to tear one’s garments. Wolf Hall is based on an historical novel — so it never pretends to be anything other than fiction. Moreover, the story is apparently told from Cromwell’s perspective, so is it any wonder that the saintly More is recast as villainous, and the villainous Cromwell is recast as saintly?

Nonetheless, I won’t be reading or watching Wolf Hall any time soon. I’ll stick with Robert Bolt’s masterly Man For All Seasons. The play and the film are both outstanding.

(This is a very good 3 minute summary of the film. I’d add only that the finale, though neat, is misleading. The court’s declaration of More’s guilt was in fact a craven abuse of the law.)

Reader’s Feast

Reader’s Feast

My biannual dentist check up brought me to Collins Street this morning, which revealed a pleasant surprise. Reader’s Feast, my one time favourite bookstore, had relocated!

I spent hours and poured a fortune into this bookstore in my university days, when it was on the corner of Swanston and Bourke Streets. The place shut its doors in 2011, and I wasn’t the only one who thought Reader’s Feast was finished.

Turns out, though, that Reader's Feast is bigger and better than ever!

Turns out, though, that Reader’s Feast is bigger and better than ever!

It’s many many years since I browsed a bookstore. I buy all my books online now, which is cheaper and more convenient, but not as much fun. There’s something almost luxurious about wasting time in a bookstore!

I had intended to have a coffee with someone after the dental appointment, but since that didn’t work out, I figured I could blow the price of two coffees on this:

I laughed out loud at the very first paragraph, which is a good sign.

The very first paragraph made me laugh out loud, which is an auspicious start.

A Handful of Dust made it to Fr Hardon’s lifetime reading list, and George Weigel puts it in the running for Waugh’s finest novel. I’d have thought Brideshead Revisited and the Sword of Honour trilogy vie for that title, and both also vie for greatest novel of the twentieth century in my estimation. If A Handful of Dust belongs to their league, it must be worth reading indeed!

Brideshead Revisited, incidentally, also graces the other Catholic lifetime reading plan I presented last week. Fr John McCloskey’s list is perhaps not as audacious as Fr Hardon’s, but then the genesis of his reading plan is quite different.

Where Fr Hardon published a book-length reading plan which is in itself worth reading for its survey of Catholic history and literature, Fr McCloskey’s list has much more practical origins. In the early 2000s, he was Director of Opus Dei’s Catholic Information Center in Washington DC, and one of his tasks included stocking the Center’s bookshop. His list of titles is less academic and more accessible than Fr Hardon’s. It includes many modern works which probably won’t be remembered in 100 years, but which are nonetheless useful to a contemporary audience. (See, for example, The Emotions God Gave You by Art and Laraine Bennett.)

The abundance of green demonstrates a significant cross over with Fr Hardon’s reading plan. I think Fr McCloskey’s list is every bit as interesting and helpful. Enjoy.

Download the PDF or view online:

Fr John Hardon’s Catholic Lifetime Reading Plan

Fr John Hardon’s Catholic Lifetime Reading Plan

Father John Hardon SJ, Servant of God, 1914-2000, was a great man. With parents like his, it’s no wonder.

When he was still an infant, his father, who was a construction worker, was killed in a workplace accident. He apparently sacrificed his own life to save the lives of his colleagues.

To honour her husband’s memory, and the heroism of his death, Mrs Hardon resolved she would never remarry. So she scrimped and saved and struggled to support herself and her young son. As often happens, material poverty and solid faith produced spiritual riches.

Fr Hardon’s earliest memory is accompanying his mother on all-night vigils before the Blessed Sacrament. He would be tucked up, asleep on a pew, and wake occasionally to find his mother always in the same position — kneeling next to him, head bowed in adoration, deep in prayer.

Some Lutheran schoolgirls boarded with the Hardons, which provided some income. When he was still young, John demanded to know why they got to eat meat on Friday, and he did not. Mrs Hardon discreetly raised the issue with the girls and their parents. The girls would have to adopt the Catholic practice, or find somewhere else to live. The girls wished to stay, and their parents agreed. The girls were like sisters to John, whom he loved and admired. He attributed his early positive exposure to the Lutheran faith to a lifelong interest in ecumenism, long before it was mainstream.

After his ordination, he was sent to Rome to study theology, and he became an expert in Protestantism and in the oriental religions. Fr Hardon was a hard worker, a clear thinker, and a brilliant one at that. From what I’ve read, it could be fair to say that he is the English-speaking world’s answer to Joseph Ratzinger. By that I mean: Pope Benedict is the greatest theologian alive today, and the outstanding Catholic thinker of his generation. What can be said of Ratzinger at a universal level, may be said of Fr Hardon in the smaller pond of the Anglosphere.

Fr John Hardon, Servant of God

Fr John Hardon SJ, Servant of God

Unfortunately, Fr Hardon was a casualty of the culture wars which raged throughout the post-conciliar Church. He was deemed to be too conservative and divisive by his superiors, banned from teaching, and effectively exiled. (That happened to many Jesuits in the 80s and 90s. Pope Francis suffered a similar fate in the decade following his term as Argentine superior general. It was only his episcopal appointment which lifted him from obscurity.) Nonetheless, Fr Hardon’s marginalisation in America didn’t inhibit fruitful collaboration with three popes.

With Pope Paul VI, Fr Hardon produced The Catholic Catechism (1975), which was the normative English-language catechetical text until the Holy See produced a definitive Catechism of the Catholic Church in 1992. (Fr Hardon contributed to that project too.) When Pope John Paul II asked Mother Teresa to expand her ministry to the poor to include catechesis and evangelisation, he referred her to Cardinal Ratzinger. Ratzinger, in turn, referred Mother Teresa to Fr Hardon, who worked closely with the Missionaries of Charity for many years, developing catechetical means which are still in use.

Apart from his scholarly virtues, Fr Hardon was by all accounts a holy priest. He had a deep devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, which isn’t surprising in view of his mother’s example. He was widely sought to lead retreats, hear confessions, and minister spiritual direction. His cause for canonisation was opened in 2005.

Fr Hardon’s scholarship, his catechetical expertise, and his interior life conspire to recommend, I think, his Catholic Lifetime Reading Plan (Amazon listing). This book-length plan was published in 1989, and it’s not so much a list of books as it is a list of 104 authors he recommends Catholics read.

I ordered this book several weeks ago, but I’m still waiting. I’m looking forward to learning why Fr Hardon recommends the authors he lists. He profiles each author in two or three pages, and includes their most recommended writing. Apparently the book also includes an exhaustive bibliography, with the details of all the significant works of each author. In the meantime, I’ve made do with the bare bones: names of the authors and the books Fr Hardon especially recommends.

You can download the document, or read it online:

  • Jonathan Aquino has blogged a very short profile of each work.
  • I can’t vouch for the historical categories of authors. These are Fr Hardon’s categories, but I’ve had to guess where they fit. For example, I presumed that Fr Hardon numbered St Thomas More as the last of the medievals, and St Ignatius Loyola as the first of the Counter-Reformation authors. But until I receive my copy of The Catholic Lifetime Reading Plan, I can’t corroborate that.
  • The green authors and titles are cross-reference to an alternative Catholic lifetime reading plan I’ll post tomorrow.
  • Some of the titles are accompanied with a book symbol. This annotates a novel! (See yesterday’s post: The thrilling romance of orthodoxy.)