Teokratia: The Theocratic Principle in Russia, 1917 and Today

By Matthew J. Dal Santo

527 pages

2025 Angelico Press, Brooklyn, NY

Teokratia is a unique contribution to the Christian theory of the state and society. Right at the start I should say that “Teokratia’ – theocracy –  in the East is not the same as its Western equivalent. In the West theocracy has connotations of rule by the clergy: the papacy in the High Middle Ages or the Calvinist clergy in Geneva or, later, colonial New England. In the East theocracy means, literally,  the rule of God over the Church but also over the ruler and the state. The ruler derives his authority directly from God. Therefore, the ideal is harmony between these two powers –  church and state  – without the one dominating the other. You don’t have to be an expert in history to realize that this resembles strongly the relationship between the eastern Roman emperors and the Christian Church that developed after Constantine. Of course, as in ancient Constantinople,  in Russia the state was by far the stronger partner.

Dal Santo structures his book around several distinct narratives. First, he sets forth Russian theological theory and attitudes towards the state as exemplified by the works of Sergei Bulgakov. Second, Teokratia is a history of the reign of the last tsar, Nicholas II,  and attempts to understand and to a great extent justify his rule. Third, the author  recounts his personal journey to Russia  – and some adjacent areas that were in the Russian Empire in Nicholas’s time. Dal Santo follows the trail of Nicholas II and his family by visiting the places decisive in their life, such as the Crimea, where they lived,  and Yekaterinburg where the Tsar and his family were killed. This journey is not just a travelogue of historical sights but also, in a series of discussions with ordinary Russians,  a quest to gauge the relevance of “Teokratia” to  Russia today. What do present-day Russians think of Nicholas II? And what is the role of the Orthodox Church in present day Russia?

Of course, starting with the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia, Nicholas and his family have now been glorified (canonized). The author finds their icons in churches homes and chapels. And the imperial family is the subject of increasing  devotion. Indeed, Dal Santo attributes the resurgent Christianity of Russia today to the presence and intercession of these saints. It is noteworthy that the patriarchate of Moscow, at least initially, distinguished the Romanov family from “martyrs” by calling them “passion-bearers,” a somewhat lesser title. That does not seem to make much of an impression upon the many devotees of the imperial family. 

The author interprets this recovery of interest in the Romanovs as a development consequent to the collapse of the Soviet Union, which had repressed all inquiries into the life of Nicholas II. I’m in a position to offer a minor correction in that regard. For in 1973 upon my own visit to the Sts. Peter and Paul fortress in then-Leningrad I heard an ordinary Russian directly inquire of the official guide if Nicholas II was buried there. He was told that, no, he was not resting there among his ancestors.

A leading figure in this book is Sergei Bulgakov who, following the experience of a personal epiphany, turned from a secularist to a  fervent believer in the Orthodox Church and in autocracy. Throughout the book the writings of Bulgakov provide commentary on the course of Nicholas’s reign.  Although he became a fervent supporter of the principle of autocracy, Bulgakov was hardly uncritical regarding the political decisions of the Russian government. 

Sergei Bulgakov was one of a group of thinkers and writers, associated with the publication of the collection of essays Vekhi in 1909, who fought for a recovery of the Russian spiritual tradition. They built on the legacy of Dostoevsky and Solovyov, among others. This group of intellectuals was, however, too late to breathe new intellectual and spiritual life into the Orthodox Church before disaster struck. 

Throughout this book Dal Santo takes us though critical stages in the reign of Nicholas II. It’s less a political than a spiritual journey – often focusing on major liturgical celebrations. Teokratia reveals the sincere piety of Nicholas and his overwhelming sense of duty. 

Of great interest to Catholic traditionalists should be the objective,  liturgical nature of the Tsar’s religious life.

From a young age, participating in the liturgies of Church and observing the feasts and fasts of the liturgical year, Nicholas was captivated by the sensuous beauty of the chants, incense, candles, and icons, and only later was he instructed in the intellectual tenets of Orthodoxy. Indeed, having absorbed the elements of Orthodox family life at home with his parents, Nicholas seems to have approached Orthodoxy as a ritual world to be enjoyed, rather than as an intellectual proposition to be assented to or a moral code to be rigidly observed.(Teokratia, p.39)

In this “aliveness” to the Divine Liturgy, and their response to the Church’s sacramental and liturgical rites as something utterly real and transformative, Nicholas II and Bulgakov were one, and they were so often in isolation from their contemporaries, even Orthodox ones, who tended to downplay it as an empty, malleable ceremony. Indeed, if we have lingered so long here on the liturgy, it is because looking for the source of Nicholas’s own conception of Russia as a Teokratia, it is to the liturgy that we should turn. (Teokratia  p.164)

The narrative culminates in a lengthy, horrifying but often moving description of the imprisonment, suffering and ultimately murder of Nicholas and his family in 1917-18.

Dal Santo defends Russia and Russia culture, now subject to such calumny and denigration by the dominant media, political, and academic forces of the West. In Western caricatures Russians today play a demonic role similar to that traditionally reserved to the Germans (or Confederate Southerners).Dal Santo, however, describes an entirely different picture – also in territories recovered by Russia, like the Crimea. Throughout the book there are entertaining accounts of meetings with ordinary Russians. Above all, Dal Santo demonstrates by many examples the religious recovery currently in progress everywhere in Russia. 

Now at times Dal Santo takes his enthusiasm for Nicholas II and his defense of Russian history and culture a bit too far. In the case of Nicholas, for example, a principled feeling of dependence upon God and the rejection of atheistic alternatives to rule by divine delegation do not necessarily translate into competent decision making in political affairs. Nicholas’s choice of ministers, generals and advisors was extremely mixed.   If Nicholas wished to return to the spiritual foundations of Russia also in political matters, that policy was undermined by his continuing alliance with freemasonic France, the most overtly atheistic power at that time in Europe. 

We cannot say that the actions of Nicholas in pursuing the war against Japan in 1904 and, even more so, entering the war in Western Europe in 1914 were anything but disastrous. Interestingly, the much-maligned Rasputin seems to have had a much clearer insight into the consequences of latter decision than did Nicholas and his government.  I doubt that the occupation of Galicia by the Russian army in 1914-1915 was in all respects the triumphant popular progress Dal Santo describes.  Nor do I think that many military historians would share Dal Santo’s opinion that in December 1916 the Russian army had finally reached a successful stage in its 2 1/2 years of war.

Above all, Nicholas seemed utterly unable to convey to his officials his spiritual vision for the Russian state and people. The ruling circles of Russia completely misunderstood their emperor. Later, in the case of many, this alienation hardened into contempt and even outright hatred.

The traditionalist Catholic writer Cristina Campo had, already in 1971, eloquently summarized the spiritual vision of Nicholas II as well as the tragic dilemma he lived through:  

“In a celebrated photograph, the last emperor of Russia wore the costume of one of his holy ancestors [Tsar Alexei Mikhailovitsch of the 17^th century]. The high symmetry of the ample sleeves of purple satin is mysteriously replicated on his breast by the golden wings of a two-headed eagle…. All this speaks more than many pages of the mystical audacity of this unhappy sovereign, the last purely Muscovite Tsar, who tried, without intellectual arms, without political genius, without the help of a single human being,  to return the Enlightenment autocracy of the Romanovs of St. Petersburg to its Russian archetype of a pure religious destiny… Empires fall when the education of princes yields to bourgeois inertia with its obstinate superstitious ignorance of the spiritual roots of all rule.” 1)

Dal Santo outlines an understanding of the role of the state and of the church radically different from that which prevails in the West today. Teokratia is completely at odds not only with the modern regimes of the West,  but also with the political theories, such as “sound laicity,” which, after Vatican II, the Catholic Church has adopted as its own dogma. For instance, what would Russell Hittinger of the Catholic University think of this book?– he has proclaimed “separation” (of church and state) as being the founding political principle of Christianity.  

Teokratia makes clear the impossibility of establishing a Western secularist regime in Russia. And that is a good thing!  For, beyond the spirituality and political philosophy of Russia, Teokratia has much wider relevance. For Dal Santo describes the course of history as essentially a theological struggle. Drawing on the thought of Augusto Del Noce, Dal Santo Shows that the atheistic principles manifested in the Russian revolution have actually been  more completely realized in the modern secular West. Moreover, since the West’s “victory” in 1989-91, the logic of revolutionary secularization has been ever more widely extended (Teokratia at pp. 21-22). For example, the revolutionary movement in the West has led to the total loss of symbols, destroying man’s ability to perceive reality – including political reality. In the East, however, symbols (like the icons!) and symbolic theology are indispensable in Orthodoxy.  The above-mentioned Cristina Campo would have acknowledged the similarity of these thoughts to her own! But we are going too far afield. I do need to end my discussion of the remarkably rich book – I leave the rest to be discovered by the reader.

1. Campo, Cristina “Con Lieve Mani,” in Gli Imperdonabili at 98-99 (Adelphi Edizioni, Milano, 1987).  (my translation). Campo seems to be mixing together several photographs of Nicholas II  – such as those taken in1903 at a grand ball in 17^th century Russian costume. See, e.g., 1903 Ball in the Winter Palace, Wikipedia.  I think the specific image Campo is describing is this: https://tsarnicholas.org/2025/08/06/moscow-artist-breathes-new-life-into-russias-last-tsar/nicholas-ii-in-old-russian-falconer-costume-николай-ii/(All accessed 12/7/2025)

by Martin Mosebach

2025, dtv, Munich.

Martin Mosebach’s recent novels tend to revolve around an underlying “clash of civilizations.” The inhabitants of Western Europe and specifically Germany are characterized as one-dimensional, manipulative, materialistic,  pleasure-loving, and scheming. The representatives of this European world encounter other regions, where there still exists awareness of the reality of life and death and of the spiritual realm, both in its good and evil aspects.  Mosebach has shown us visions of this more elemental world in present day India, in Egypt and Morocco  – but also even under the bright sunshine of Southern Italy.  The spiritual forces encountered may be positive (Das Beben, 2005) but also indifferent to hostile (Krass, 2021) or even demonic (Mogador, 2016).

In Die Richtige, Mosebach relocates the conflict of these antagonistic realms within the confines of one European city of our day.  For in this book the author returns to his hometown of Frankfurt to tell us the story of an artist.  Louis Creutz is a critically acclaimed painter. He is surrounded by some well-to-do groupies who have followed and facilitated his career. Coming into this circle is Astrid, a woman of Swedish background  – a kind of carefree, thirtysomething quasi-hippy.  Creutz,  whose artistic output so far has been an endless series of female nudes, seeks Astrid as his next model – and more besides. The plot of the novel revolves around this relationship. What starts as a series of leisurely discussions builds to an eventful, shattering climax. 

Die Richtige is an excellent read. The action moves at a brisk pace and the transitions from one section of the novel to the next are creative and surprising. Compared to other works by Mosebach,  the main characters have greater believability. The painter Creutz is early on identified as a somewhat sinister figure. There are, for example, repeated references to Mozart’s Don Giovanni in his regard. Yet Creutz has other sides to his character. In his appreciation of the effects of light in his studio or on a winter trip to Venice he reveals the sensitivity of a true artist. He comments on the marvelous patterns of a flock of pigeons in flight and discourses knowledgeably on the unique taste of fine aged Rhine wine. Similarly, Creutz’s entourage, including Astrid, are not (just) caricatures but real personalities. In contrast to the critical description of similar characters in Mosebach’s earlier novels they are portrayed as halfway sympathetic individuals.(At least with the exception of one academic biographer!)

Mosebach’s style is colorful and visual, full of striking images. The painter’s mysterious studio, described in language reminiscent of H.P. Lovecraft, occupies an isolated, rundown building surrounded by modern construction. We witness a dramatic wild boar hunt in the mountains near the city. A strangely dressed madwoman wanders about the town and intervenes at critical moments in the plot. A miscarriage is described in excruciating detail. The parks and gardens of this city become at night sinister locations where youths prowl who victimize the unwary – sometimes in ghastly ways.

Die Richtige, however, also has its satirical elements.  An example it contains of the preposterous writing of an art critic is precious. We learn that the life of a German entrepreneur in 2025 is that of a man constantly out of the country in order to run his business – for his company’s workforce is largely in China. Above all, Mosebach describes the incompetence and indifference of the “guardians of order” in today’s surveillance and therapeutic state. A character under investigation for murder escapes easily from the law enforcement authorities by giving a simple alibi. A team of three men – they need that many today? – chasing fare beaters on streetcars picks up a mentally ill woman who then is promptly dumped back on the street by the incompetent system. A woman suffering a miscarriage endures horrors under the care of supposed specialists. In Mosebach’s eyes, the Germany of 2025 is no longer an exemplar of competence – to put it mildly.

Need we mention that Christianity plays no role in this story? The most we can say is that Creutz eventually receives a lavish commission by a super wealthy private donor to paint a chapel in France. Characters comment on this strangeness of such a subject given what they  – and we –  know about the artist. But have we not read allegations of circumstances even stranger than those of this novel involving a certain church-approved artist in Italy?

But what then does Mosebach’s novel have to say about today’s world to the readers of a traditionalist blog? What is the “moral” of the story? Die Richtige is certainly not a didactic text. For Mosebach is of the opinion that the role of the Catholic novelist is not to preach or conjure up edifying Catholic “role models” but to bring a Catholic sensibility to the description of the world as it is. Indeed, it is Catholicism – or better, Catholic culture – that gives the novelist the capacity to apprehend and depict this reality.

Accepting that definition, Die Richtige portrays a fearsome picture of Europe in 2025, both physically and spiritually.  A society on the verge of collapse is held together by incompetent administrative, legal and medical bureaucracies. A world that is inhabited by pleasant, “nice” but superficial characters who are trying to find a way out of their tedium. The bureaucrats and businessman of modern society are attracted to a cult of the artistic creator who resides far above the gray life of the secular city. But as this novel shows, the world of spirit and of creativity also has its malevolent side.  Dark forces lurk and make their presence felt. Above all to people  – like the ladies and gentlemen of the upper middle class depicted in this novel –  who resolutely refuse to acknowledge their existence.

It is a pity that, as far as I am aware, only one of Martin Mosebach’s many novels (What was before, 2014) has been translated into English!

by Sebastian Morello

Arouca Press, Waterloo ON, 2025

I had no sooner reviewed earlier this year a book by Sebastian Morello-  Mysticism, Magic and Monasteries – than the author published a new volume: Unto the Ages of Ages: Essays on Political Traditionalism. His purpose in this new book is to lay out a positive response of traditionalism to the crisis of today. For Morello states that on the right, there is much criticism of modernity, but not much articulation of a positive alternative to the world of today. To do so, Morello returns to Burke, de Maistre and other “first responders” to the crisis of modernity as it emerged in the French revolution.

Unto the Ages of Ages collects essays published in the European Conservative. The political focus  – or awareness – of Unto the Ages of Ages is reminiscent of the writers of Triumph magazine in the United States (1966-74). This is in contrast to those authors who restrict themselves more to liturgical, cultural or religious issues. But Morello would argue that the Catholic faith has an inherently political aspect. Christianity should not set out to accommodate itself to the “secular age” but:

{R]eject it outright and undergo the hard slog of retrieving a pre-modern mind and heart. (p.xxii)

For Christ’s admonition to “give to Caesar what is Caesar’s”  did not at all support the existence of a separate, autonomous secular “city.” For ultimately everything belongs to God and whatever Caesar has is by delegation. 

It is unsurprising that in this book the hierarchy of the Catholic Church plays a minor role. Morello does believe in the importance of truth and that the Catholic Church is the bearer of truth; indeed, he was active for years in catechetical programs of the ”institutional Church.” But gradually he realized how different his beliefs were from those of many of his co-religionists  – because “the Catholic Church is largely run by progressive activists.”

Morello opposes the leveling and globalist policies of the present ruling powers of the West. So, for example, he argues against mass immigration and for patriotism. He denounces modern Western entertainment culture as found in music, movies and television (compare the remarks on this subject of Solzhenitsyn!). Morello argues for the concrete, the organic, the traditional (in the best sense of the word).  He sees these as inherent features of English culture as embodied in the landscape of England, the customs of England, the institution of the British monarchy, etc.

We see the influence of the late Roger Scruton, but also of Chesterton. For example, reading this book I recalled  Roger Scruton’s book on wine culture:  I drink therefore I am in which he identifies as the unique, defining aspect of wine the specificity of the vineyard’s location and the individuality of the producer. And did not Chesterton’s The Rolling English Road make a point like Morello’s in 1913? Morello too uses a similar image – whether it is totally accurate I cannot say –  contrasting the appearance of the “rationalistic” agricultural landscape of France with the irregular, organically developed fields of England.  

Yet, the United Kingdom today is also one of the most modernistic societies on the planet – a true surveillance state. And political “conservatives” – which in the United Kingdom is, after all, even the name of a political party – have been instrumental in creating and perfecting this regime.  Again and again in this book, Morello returns to the topic of “conservatism.“ Inherently problematic, conservatism as practiced in recent decades has often been a vehicle for imposing, modernistic, and anti-traditional policies on the peoples of the West. That is because, in most cases, the conservatives fundamentally do not disagree with the ideology of the global liberal society. 

There are some gems in Unto the Ages of Ages that should delight the liturgical traditionalist. Morello makes the case for the elaborate Sarum rite – the predominant pre-Reformation use of the Roman rite.  Morello considers the Anglican “Ordinariate”  within the Roman Catholic Church as a potential champion for restoring the Sarum rite. This may be unrealistic – but have we not seen at least one recent instance – in Princeton, N.J. – of Sarum Rite Vespers being splendidly celebrated with the participation of the Ordinariate?  Morello acclaims as a counter-revolutionary deed the building of the basilica of Sacre Coeur in Paris after the tragedies of France’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian war and the civil war of the Commune (1870-71). It was a bold reassertion of Catholicism on one of the most prominent sites in Paris. Furthermore, the devotion of the Sacred Heart has always had a specifically counter-revolutionary aspect going back to the wars of the Vendee. The new church was a celebration of the Catholic identity of France  – not in triumph, but in penance after the horrors the nation had just lived through. And it has been successful – Sacre Coeur has remained an “iconic” image of Paris ever since.

Morello also gives tips on how a traditionalist revival can begin at home – for example, by exposing our children to traditional folk music. For it is highly unlikely that someone raised on the pop music of today, which Morello calls demonic,  can ever have any appreciation of classical Western music. But openness to classical music can be made possible if in the family a foundation is laid through listening to  – and performing – the folk music of the past. Morello tells us how the slovenly or even obscene dress of today conveys a powerful anti-Christan message. With a little imagination, however, one can work against this force. Morello gives hints on how with, the aid of consignment and secondhand stores, any one of us can vastly improve his or her appearance. 

These ideas of Morello ideas resemble those we have already heard, and, in the case of some of us, already practiced. But it is still instructive to find an author who systematically unites these themes and integrates them into a whole. And what Morello argues for is not just an alternative, private,  lifestyle but the beginnings of a political recovery. For Christianity was not meant to be lived as a separate cult, but of necessity must permeate the whole culture, society and politics. Morillo is arguing for such a political movement. But should we call this “conservative” anymore? According to the author:

Perhaps in decades past, the conservative cause looked like an attempt to direct people back into a cage at the very moment they felt themselves emancipated. Now, however, people are crying out to be liberated from the fetters of self-indulgence and reclaim their “roots”. They want to engage in a “meaning-based” discourse, and it is in such a discourse that the conservative tradition can shine like a great beacon leading people into the calm harbor of sanity. This then, is an important moment for a true conservative revival, but conservatives –  calling themselves “conservatives” –  will need to wake up and seize it. (p. 135)

Sebastian Morello, based on Solovyov’s Tale of the Antichrist, even hopes for a “right-wing ecumenism” of Catholicism, Orthodoxy and Protestantism based not on submergence in some kind of uniform, undogmatic liberalism but upon the shared truths of Christianity. Truths that increasingly face the opposition  – and downright hatred – of the despotic society of modernity. 

Is Morello’s political initiative unrealistic? Perhaps! But we are seeing today, both in and outside of the Church, in religion, art, politics and family life, movements underway to return to a sane world.  Can this undercurrent eventually prevail against the asphyxiating grip of the current culture? Ultimately, yes, but we should not be surprised if that eventually requires martyrdom. For the price of returning to traditional Christian culture in the face of the all-engulfing control exercised today by the masters of our society may well be a high one. 

Your Statutes were my Song in the Land of Exile: The Sorrows and the Joys of the Battle for a Birthright

(For the Whole Christ: The Collected Works of Dr John Rao, volume 3) 

2025 Arouca Press, Waterloo, Ontario

199 Pages

I should say up front that I have known John Rao since the early 1980s and indeed have written a blurb for this book. Yet, although I have met him many times over the decades, for one reason or another my acquaintance with Dr. Rao and his writings is not as great at it could have been. Except for one very brief and atypical encounter(post-Covid, on Long Island!) I have never attended any of his annual Gardone retreats. Nor, except at their very beginning, have I had the chance  to hear his annual lectures on Catholic history.  Moreover, except for the chapter  “The Freed Mass,” which mentions a conference the St Hugh of Cluny Society organized in 2007, I had not previously read any of the essays collected in Your Statutes were my Song. Accordingly, I read this slim volume with interest.  It’s an invaluable resource for the student of the traditionalist movement in the United States written by a direct participant in the trials and triumphs of Catholic traditionalism.

Although individual essays deal with events as far back as 1970 (and 1000 AD!) and as recent as 2017, the heart of the book deals with the period between 1999 and 2007. This was the era I described in American Catholic Traditionalism as “Part II of the Indult” – a time of confusion, even spiritual trial for traditionalists. 1) After the hopes raised by Ecclesia Dei and the amazing achievements that quickly followed, the Traditionalists soon realized that their fanatical enemies in the institutional Church were by no means prepared to allow the TLM to flourish. And the “conservative Catholics,” deserted by the hierarchy on issues like kneeling for communion and for whom Ecclesia Dei was an affront to their liturgical dogmas, responded with ever more bitter attacks on traditionalists. This had its effect on some supporters of the TLM. As Rao writes: “Some people, disturbed by the uncertainties and nightmares of unbridled change, are convinced that they are living in the end times.”  

Yet the traditionalist movement could and did not succumb to apocalyptic temptations. Rao describes the mood of this era from a unique vantage point:  in 1999 he became president of Una Voce-US; in 2004 he was forced out for being, it seems,  too critical of the papacy. An interesting accusation against one who had started his academic career with an examination of  the Ultramontane Civiltà Cattolica of the Pius IX years! For Rao had to face the basic conflict within Una Voce: between a strong commitment to the TLM and  the desire to remain in the graces of the hierarchy and the Vatican, with whom Una Voce always dreamed of striking a deal. It was a tightrope walk that he himself could not manage.  

Your Statutes were my Song  recalls for us events of that time that illustrate the conflicting currents in the traditionalist world.  Notably, in 1999 the FSSP was shaken by an internal uprising against its leadership by “the sixteen.” (a group of priests wanting compromise with institutional Church and the Novus Ordo) With its usual underhandedness,  the Vatican immediately responded favorably to their complaints by issuing a document that ultimately would have made the FSSP, in the best case, “bi-ritual.”  By 2001 the crisis had died down without the worst fears of the traditionalists being realized . Yet the FSSP never recovered its leading position in the “Uniate” (post-Ecclesia Dei)traditionalist movement. 

This era came to an end with the arrival of Summorum Pontificum.

Throughout Your Statutes were my Song  John Rao makes trenchant observations and draws prescient conclusions fascinating for their relevance to today. Here are a few:

(Regarding the restrictions the Vatican proposed to impose on the FSSP in response to the revolt of the “sixteen”)

“[S]igns” and “law” are set against one another in order to permit arbitrary action. Hence, signs of the times, such as concelebration with a local Ordinary, are elevated to tests of loyalty, freeing one from the suspicion of schismatic tendencies, despite the fact that legally no one is supposed to be forced to celebrate.

(In 2003 Rao wrote critically of the supposed  “golden age” of the years immediately preceding Vatican II)

American Catholicism in the 1950s and early 1960s was not a model for the world, whether on theological and pastoral grounds or, generally even more, on liturgical ones. …  Sloppiness at Low Masses and inattention to ceremonies and proper music at High Masses was very common. … As one Una Voce leader summarized his experience to me, the 1950s, in many respects, was actually a period of decline, covered over by a great deal of success on the statistical level.  Still, there remains the temptation to look upon this period as the norm for restoration purposes.

(Regarding certain historical assertions contained in Summorum Pontificum)

From what I remember, Paul VI did not merely fail to anticipate the strength of attachment to the Traditional Mass. Rather, he was enthusiastically committed to a liturgical revolution which he knew and expressly indicated would offend pious people. …

Still, these are the games that institutions, including divine institutions with a human side, regularly play.  The rediscovery by the Church of her proper pathway (after going astray – SC) is generally a messy, halting, and not fully honest affair. It almost never takes place in one, clean, action-packed cinema-like scene.  

(Rao, however,  fully understood the immense significance of Summorum Pontificum)

Historical game playing, painful though it can be, is a minor blemish on the flesh of Summorum Pontificum compared to the significance of its return to traditional forms and familiar words in its pastoral language.  The potential number of glorious consequences stemming from such a remarkable and courageous recovery of a rhetoric pronounced irrevocably dead by the powerful of this world is great.

How these words, written in 2007, resonate with us after the subsequent war  – to a large extent continuing – of Pope Francis and his clique against the TLM and, really, all of Catholic tradition. And now traditionalists are (still) hoping for action on the part of Pope Leo.  Rao’s accurate summary of how the Church changes course offers consolation if, as is likely, the way back for traditionalists is a long, tortuous process.

There are many other gems in this concise book- I can only mention a handful.  The chapter “From Hoboken to Eternity” is a miniature biography of the author, setting out facts of which I was unaware. It turns out that, like many others (including myself), John Rao developed his liturgical understanding through frequenting the Divine Liturgy of the Eastern Church. And that for several years in the pre-indult wilderness,  he served as a lector in Novus Ordo masses at Our Lady of Pompeii in New York! Dr. Rao frankly discusses the personal spiritual trials of his early years.  

In “The Waiting Game,”  Rao gives us an inspiring account of how the Holy Roman emperor intervened in 1007 onward to restore the papacy, suffering through its darkest hours.  For, contrary to Ultramontane myths, the two universal powers of the Middle Ages, the pope and the emperor, were originally not antagonistic but complementary. In “Malcolm Muggeridge, John Vennari and the Prince-Bishopric of Bamberg” he speaks in glowing terms of the “magical kingdom” of the city of Bamberg, Germany, created by that same Holy Roman Empire. And this incomparable Romanesque, Gothic and Baroque city, which Rao calls a “Bavarian Catholic Oz,”  is my personal favorite as well! In both these historical essays, Dr. Rao doesn’t only describe the past but creatively uses it to develop instructive examples for the present.   Finally, the author offers us a moving tribute to the late Fr. Ignacio Barreiro, a champion of the TLM and the pro-life cause. 

I do have some criticisms. Your Statutes were my Song would be of greater utility to readers not having extensive familiarity with the issues and people encountered in this book if introductions, notes and an index had been included.  I myself am still confused as to the organization and history of Una Voce-US. There also seems to be a recurrent problem with the chapter headings printed at the top pf each page. 

In a sense, Your Statutes were my Song is a melancholy book. Despite the hopes of Summorum Pontificum,  traditionalism is once again the adversary of the Church establishment. Yet through all the years covered by this book, Dr. John Rao never gave up hope – but a hope always informed by realism. I conclude by quoting the following passage of Rao’s “The Waiting Game” so very relevant to these days. Just as today anticipations are rising regarding possible actions of Pope Leo, so in 2007 traditionalists waited for the rumored motu proprio of Pope Benedict:

Waiting games, whether they involve wondering when a delayed  airplane flight will actually take off or speculating if a long-desired moto proprio will ever see the light of day, are never a particularly entertaining pastime for normal people.  …. It may well be the case that our undeniably good-willed Pope will have ended the current Traditionalist Waiting Game with respect to the liturgy by the time the present article is published. But even if he does so, I still think that we Tridentini, who have suffered so much from ambiguity and disappointed hopes over the past 40 years, and have continued to cherish the Papacy and Rome through all the heartbreak just the same, ought to explore the many twists and turns that the miserable Waiting Game can take just a wee bit longer…. 

1. Chessman, Stuart , Catholic Traditionalism in the United States: Notes for a History Part 4 (The Era of the Indult (Part II) 1993-2007) (The Society of St. Hugh of Cluny, 2014)

Close the Workshop: How the Old Mass isn’t Broken and the New Mass can’t be Fixed

By Peter A. Kwasniewski

431 Pages 

Angelico Press, Brooklyn, NY 2025

Peter Kwasniewski has said that Close the Workshop completes and summarizes his vast written labors for the Traditional Mass.  I can only agree with him on this! Kwasniewski approaches the Traditional Mass (“TLM”) as a writer, theologian, philosopher, musician, organizer, editor and activist on behalf of Catholic tradition.  Accordingly, Close the Workshop deals with both the theory and practice of the TLM. 

One word of warning to the reader; Close the Workshop is not the product of a would-be ecclesiastical politician, attempting to win the favor of Church authorities. The author is passionate and forthright,  unafraid of ruffling the feathers of the hierarchy. This substantial book is directed to those who love the TLM and want to find  a resource to help them understand, defend, explain and celebrate the TLM.

The author’s uncompromising position is evident from the full title of this book. Kwasniewski acknowledges that the TLM and the Novus Ordo stand in direct contrast to each other and spells it out in great detail.  And Kwasniewski frankly argues for the superiority of the TLM over the Novus Ordo. Further,  he disputes any need for ‘mutual enrichment” of the two liturgies. The TLM does not need enrichment from the Novus Ordo;  the importation into the Novus Ordo of elements of a prior liturgical tradition contradicts the liturgical principles of the new rite (such as the exclusive emphasis on the verbal communication of content, or the priority placed on the spontaneity of the “presider” ). 

In my immediate vicinity a good illustration can be found of this fundamental divergence in practice between the two liturgical forms. Not too far from where I live is a “conservative “ parish devoted to the Novus Ordo but  incorporating traditional artistic and musical elements. Then, there is a second church that regularly celebrates a most complete Solemn TLM.  In the former church,  members of the congregation discuss how each priest celebrates the Mass, and whose “style”  is more congenial to them. In the second, the TLM remains the same, even though that church over the last 20 years has seen it celebrated by three pastors with radically different personalities. 1)

Close the Workshop repudiates the modern compulsion to constantly change or “update” the liturgy.  This urge first arose out of the liturgical movement, reached a climax in the era of Paul VI and Bugnini and continues unabated today in the Novus Ordo. ( see recently, for example, the “Amazonian” rite,  the “Mayan” rite, a potential change to the method of determining the date of Easter) 

Close the Workshop is especially timely today, when certain of the clergy, previously inclined to the TLM but unable to stand up to the persecution of Traditionis Custodes, have resurrected the ”Reform of the Reform” as a supposedly viable alternative to the TLM. This seems incredible, given the condemnation of such practices (and the use of the very term) by Francis, and the explicit attacks on all elements of prior Catholic tradition made by the late Pope’s most devoted followers: Cupich, Grillo, Weisenburger, Martin etc. As Kwasniewski points out,  “Reform of the Reform” seeks to placate the Church establishment by introducing forms which that same establishment condemns. 

Conclusions similar to Kwasniewski’s were already implicit in Martin Mosebach’s seminal 2001 Heresy of Formlessness. The first book review published on this blog pointed out that, in this work, Mosebach portrayed the TLM not as an option for gratifying the subjective aesthetic or nostalgic feelings of a few, but as an objective necessity, even a universal requirement for the Church.2)  And, during his 2007 visit to the U.S. presenting that book, Mosebach expressly rejected suggestions from the audience to restart tinkering with the TLM.  He stated that what is needed is liturgical consolidation,  not another wave of change.

 But since those days there have been many years of practical experience with the TLM as it developed after Summorum Pontificum. Many studies have been published which analyze the liturgical texts and music and elucidate their history (including the relation of the Novus Ordo to the documents of the Council and the actions of Paul VI),  These works make possible a more detailed understanding of each liturgical form and of the scope of the changes the Novus Ordo introduced.  Close the Workshop draws on the author’s extensive participation in these developments. 

The late Pope Francis and his close liturgical associates would also agree with the view that the TLM and the Novus Ordo reflect different theologies and should remain separated. In contrast to Kwasniewski, of course, they view the TLM as the defective product of a superseded past. And their words and policies make clear that the TLM (and all cultural aspects associated with it) should not be allowed to contaminate the Novus Ordo.  As a technique of harassment, however, Novus Ordo forms on occasion have been imposed upon the celebration of  the TLM. Kwasniewski devotes a special chapter to the “hybridization” threat. (“The  Liturgical Rollercoaster”)

The second half of Close the Workshop is primarily devoted to practical responses to specific issues of the TLM today.  Some chapters answer specific objections to the TLM and traditionalism. Suggestions for “improvements” to the TLM are considered at length and rejected. Kwasniewski then offers practical advice on celebrating the TLM. He even has a few words of advice (and comfort)to those who feel they can only celebrate the Novus Ordo whle incorporating  elements of tradition. For, although that practice somewhat contradicts the thesis of this book, the author understands the need for guidance in this area. Moreover, Kwasniewski does discuss suggestions for improving  the celebration of the TLM (“Modest Proposals for Improving Low Mass”).

Is it not strange? – the TLM, as it is frequently celebrated today, actually comes closer than the monotonous chaos of the Novus Ordo to realizing some key concepts of the Council (insofar as these had any real meaning and were not merely a code word for overthrowing the historic culture of the Church). For example, ecumenism. The Byzantine divine liturgy has strongly influenced the liturgical sensibilities of so many traditionalists. Kwasniewski himself has extensive direct experience of the Byzantine rite and its music. The TLM,  as a bridge to understanding the Divine Liturgy, can serve as a link with the Orthodox. And as for active participation, the intensity of the devotion of a congregation at a Solemn TLM has always amazed and inspired me. And that devotion rests on a solid understanding of the texts and participation in the music,  where appropriate. These are real achievements – and Peter Kwasniewski’s book is an invaluable resource for deepening that devotion and understanding.

1. My thanks to Stuart J. Chessman for these observations
2. Echecs, Cedric, “A Review of Mosebach’s Heresy of Formlessness“ (The Society of St. Hugh of Cluny, 8/22/2007; originally published in www.catholicreform.org 9/20/2003.)

Irrwege und Umwege im Frömmigkeitsleben der Gegenwart

“Dead Ends and Deviations in the Piety of the Present Day.”

By Fr. Max Kassiepe OMI

Second Expanded and Revised Edition, Echter-Verlag, Würzburg 1940.

Irrwege und Umwege (“Dead Ends and Deviations”) is a most extraordinary work  – the first edition was published in 1939. For it is a very early detailed critical commentary on the forces within the Church that were even then advocating change – above all,  the Liturgical Movement. By 1939 the Liturgical Movement had obtained achieved real significance, at least in the German-speaking world. It’s obvious, however,  that it still retained somewhat the air of a cult, gaining momentum, but still not readily understandable to the mass of Catholics. The Liturgical Movement, as described by Fr. Kassiepe, was promoted by a clique of writers, monks, young priests and their youthful lay enthusiasts. And it still remained a movement, as Fr. Max Kassiepe’s book testifies, that had not yet been canonized and could be challenged publicly and directly. (The publication date of this book also shows that even in 1940 the Church enjoyed considerable freedom in the Third Reich – that is, as long as one didn’t criticize the regime.)

Our author, Fr. Max Kassiepe, approaches the issue from the perspective of an experienced spiritual director. Fr. Kassiepe had led a wide variety of Catholic pastoral activities and seems to have specialized in giving retreats and addresses at major Catholic gatherings and events. He emphasizes from the start that he is not utterly opposed to the Liturgical Movement  – in fact it has brought about many beneficial results. He does object to the one-sided, confrontational and non-pastoral face of the new movement. Fr. Kassiepe describes the adherents of the Liturgical Movement as elitist,  unrealistic and lacking in understanding of the life and issues of ordinary lay Catholics.

His first point of criticism is the reduction by the Liturgical Movement of Catholic spiritual life exclusively to participation in the Mass. The prior forms of Catholic individual piety  – most notably the rosary  – are displaced and marginalized. Fr. Kassiepe criticizes the theoretical basis of this approach which proposes the superiority of an “objective” spirituality, as embodied in the Mass, over an alleged “private” spirituality. He calls this approach  “liturgism.” Fr. Kassiepe specifically criticizes the notion of returning to the age of the “Early Church” (Urkirche). He points out  – decades before such scholarly positions became more widely known – that the Liturgical Movement’s claims about the form of the liturgies of the Early Church – like the prevalence of versus populum celebration or the location of the altar in the center of the church building – were historically dubious. 

Fr. Kassiepe objects to the widespread disregard of the liturgical rubrics by the Liturgical Movement. The Liturgical Movement utilizes unauthorized vernacular texts, promotes versus populum celebration of the Mass and arbitrarily modifies the rules for nuptial marriages. Further, the Liturgical Movement agitates publicly for concelebration. Or its clerical members don’t celebrate Mass when a congregation is not present. Obviously, this kind of criticism is what we would expect in the days of the rules-focused 1870-1958 Church. But did not this principled rejection of liturgical rubrics later reach epic proportions during and after Vatican II and especially after the promulgation of the Novus Ordo? 

Fr. Kassiepe deems many of the initiatives of the Liturgical Movement non-pastoral. So, for example, he advocates continuation of the practice at that time of distributing communion outside of the celebration of the Mass. He further condemns the disparagement of the forms of popular piety and the reduction of the interiors of churches to “a puritanical prayer room as devoid of decoration as a barn, cold as the stable of Bethlehem, uncomfortable as a homeless shelter.” (p. 38 – quoting Cardinal Faulhaber!)

Kassiepe diverges from his liturgical focus to deal with other pastoral issues less obviously linked with the Liturgical Movement. He accuses circles associated with the Liturgical Movement of promoting an excessively romantic, lyrical and spiritual image of marriage. This leaves couples unprepared for the demands of married life. This chapter reminded me of an exchange at a conference long ago between Alice von Hildebrand and Christopher Derrick concerning the nature of marriage – von Hildebrand’s highly romantic view contrasted with Derrick’s realism.

Some of Fr. Kassiepe’s objections are at first hard to understand but reward closer investigation. For example, in one chapter, he denounces  “semi-quietism.” This would seem to an odd issue, given the almost exclusive focus of the pre-Vatican II Church on the active apostolate and the emphasis of the Liturgical Movement itself on participation in the publicly celebrated liturgy. However, what Fr. Kassiepe is primarily addressing is not a mystical deviation, but what later became known as pastoral approach in the sense familiar to us from the developments of the 1960s onward: relaxing collective, objective liturgical and moral duties in favor of spontaneous individual acts. The author even mentions some Catholics skipping Mass on Sunday given, what was to them, the right circumstances! 

A particular sore point for Fr. Kassiepe was the tendency of the disciples of the Liturgical Movement to disparage frequent confession and to restrict the sacrament of penance only to where it is absolutely necessary – when the penitent is in a state of mortal sin. These observations have particular resonance today when the sacrament of penance to a great extent has fallen out of use entirely. One cause was exactly this restrictive view of the sacrament of penance which I recall being expounded in the now-distant past.

Fr. Kassiepe devotes a chapter to the necessary interaction of young and old in the ministry of the Church. There is always a conflict but also a complementarity, a mutual enrichment between the generations. I think the Liturgical Movement – with its perceived disdain for the “old-timers” and their ways – represented to the author the younger generation! Fr. Kassiepe’s understanding approach, derived from his lengthy pastoral experience and seeing the good in both sides, contrasts with the 1946 Letter of Ida Görres – a  one-sided indictment of the German clergy of that day by a sympathizer of the Liturgical Movement. And the Letter was published just six years after Fr. Kassiepe’s book!

Fr. Kassiepe thus treats many issues that would become the focus of conflict twenty or more years later. Many of the practices and assertions he critiques in this book became dogma within the Church by 1970 – and in certain places, like Germany, well before that. But intellectually, how successful are Fr. Kassiepe’s arguments? In his introduction to the second edition, the author notes that some who agreed with him nevertheless concluded he had not gone far enough in his criticism. They pointed out that he did not explore the theological implications of the Liturgical Movement and the dogmatic errors which underlie the aberrations catalogued in his book. “More profound observers see a serious danger for the faith in these phenomena” (p.7) On the contrary, Fr. Kassiepe states that he has assumed the good faith of the Liturgical Movement advocates and chooses to treat the abuses he discusses primarily as problems of practical pastoral management. 

I would agree with these critical observations on Fr. Kassiepe’s book.  For the aberrations of the Liturgical Movement were by no means only attributable to mistaken pastoral policy or uncontrolled youthful enthusiasm but also reflected a more fundamental opposition to the Catholic Church as it existed in that day. It was indeed the beginning of a true revolutionary movement: rejecting practices of Catholic life as actually harmful which up till then had been encouraged or even mandated. And we all can observe about us today the effect on the practice and understanding of the Faith of the reforms originating in the Liturgical Movement 

Yet the author has good words to say about aspects of the Liturgical Movement. He mentions the renewed sense of being a child of God, and of the membership of all Catholics in the mystical body of Christ.  The Liturgical movement works to transform superficial, routine and “other-directed” Catholics into conscious, understanding and joyful followers of Christ. It has eliminated much that was kitsch and unworthy in Catholic devotional literature. And this kind of Catholicism is much more accessible to youth and those outside the Church. 

Reading such passages is it not paradoxical that the traditionalist movement today best realizes what was of value in the original Liturgical Movement? I would cite the awareness of the centrality of the mass, particularly the sung mass, and of the importance of understanding the liturgical texts. There is a stronger orientation of the spiritual life of the Catholic around the Church year and its various feasts, saints’ days and seasons – yet without any detriment to the devotions such as the rosary and Eucharistic adoration. And finally, a much greater participation by the laity in all aspects of the Church’s life.  The results are clear in the growing participation of youth and the increasing numbers of converts to traditionalist and conservative parishes. So, many years after the publication of Irrwege und Umwege, and under unimaginably different circumstance,  the reconciliation between the legacy of the past and that of the Liturgical Movement – as wished for by Fr. Max Kassiepe – may have finally taken place!

When the Sea Recedes: The Tragedy of the Church in the 21st Century

By Jean-Pierre Maugendre

(Éditions Contretemps 2024)

When the Sea (or Tide) Recedes is a major new addition to the traditionalist library. It’s a selection of essays that chronicles life in the Catholic Church and in Western Europe between 2005 and 2023. 

I do have to warn the American reader. This is a very French book. It is Maurrassian, rightist, political and traditionalist – all anathema to mainstream Catholics (to the extent they still exist) in both France and the United States. Jean-Pierre Maugendre tells his story with intensity, panache and personal commitment. His speech is clear, decisive yet controlled. His positions are unambiguous – but hysteria, eccentricity and fanaticism are absent. Although some of his views – such those regarding the French abandonment of Algeria – may send “middle-of-the-road” Catholics into uncontrolled rage.

A further warning to the American reader relates to the subtitle of this book. Much of the book in fact deals not with the Church but with French politics and society. Indeed, it presupposes some knowledge of what has happened in France over the last 20 years. But again, this is very characteristic of the French right, which acknowledges and affirms the political dimension of the Catholic faith. The side-by-side narrative of When the Sea Recedes, covering events both political and religious, makes clear the unavoidable interaction between the Catholic faith and politics. 

And this link with the political world cuts both ways. The French right engages in politics on the basis of its faith. On the other side of the coin, as the ruling culture of Western civil society becomes ever more anti-Christian and totalitarian, those same tendencies become manifest as well in the “establishment” Catholic Church under Pope Francis. For although the Catholic mainstream and progressives rage against the political commitment of the French Catholic right, this is only because (a) they reject the right’s political positions; and (b) they themselves are infinitely more political than the right ever has been. Anyone who reads the National Catholic Reporter, the official media of the Catholic churches of France and Germany or has followed the actions of Pope Francis and the Jesuit order can verify this. The politics of the progressives, however, is a pale copy of that of the secular establishment. In contrast, what Maugendre calls, quoting sociologist Yann Raison du Cleuziou, “observant” Catholicism: “sets as its top priority the integral transmission of the Catholic faith and does not give up enriching civil society by the values of the Gospel.” (p.398)

I have to admire the author and the French right for their indomitable spirit. On the French political front, they suffer defeat after defeat on issues like abortion and same-sex marriage. Despite the grave failings of Macron over the last three years,  the French political establishment continues to be able to exclude the rightist party from any role in the French government. And despite intermittent widespread public outrage over uncontrolled immigration, gay marriage and disastrous economic policies, the French right never is able to capture a majority of the electorate.  Yet, there’s never any slacking off of the intensity of the right’s engagement. 

The same can be said in relation to the Church. In the first ten years covered by this book the Catholic traditionalists received unprecedented recognition from Rome, if far less so on the national level. Since the accession of Francis, of course, all this has been reversed, and the Vatican has undertaken a new campaign against Catholic tradition. And while these struggles convulse the Church, Maugendre reminds us again and again of the relentless, drastic collapse of the Faith, as evidenced in the statistics of declining baptisms, marriages, and vocations in France – things that don’t seem to perturb the hierarchs of the Church. More recently, the cause of the French Catholic traditionalists has experienced fresh defeats in Pope Francis’s all-out war against Catholic tradition, such as the deposition of Bishop Dominique Rey. To continue Maugendre’s metaphor – is the sea still retreating? 

….

The sea of faith

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore

Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl’d;

But now I only hear

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 

Retreating to the breath

Of the night-wind down the vast edges drear

And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true

To one another! for the world, which seems 

To lie before us like a land of dreams,

So various, so beautiful, so new,

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;

And we are here as on a darkling plain 

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,

Where ignorant armies clash by night.

“Dover Beach” by Matthew Arnold (1822–1888)

Yet Maugendre rejects such a mood of resignation. In all the trials he describes he finds much about which to rejoice.  Such as the recent overwhelming turnout for the traditionalist pilgrimage from Paris to Chartres. (We just now hear that the French episcopate – and the Vatican – have backed off from ideas of closing Chartres cathedral to the pilgrims in 2025.)  Or in his retelling the stories of those who, in one way or another, had fought the good fight in politics or in the Church. Maugendre celebrates in this book the legacy of such varied personalities as Benedict XVI, Helie Denoix de Saint Marc and Jean Madiran.  And although it undoubtedly took place after the work on this book closed,  I’m sure Maugendre has welcomed the “miracle” of Donald Trump which has unleashed a counter-woke wave throughout the world. Maugendre was fighting the same struggle years ago. For example, in June 2010 Maugendre already anticipated J.D. Vance in stating the obvious truth of the “hierarchy of charity.” (p.121). 

As Maugendre tell us, such events and people confirm that situations are never hopeless.  “Because that which seems inevitable never is, it’s never in vain to resist it.” That’s especially true in religion where the ultimate triumph of the truth is assured.  “It isn’t the hope of victory, but the necessity of struggle that makes the Christian warrior.” (p.21)

We know the sea of faith will return again!

The Right Hand of the Lord is Exalted: A History of Catholic Traditionalism from Vatican II to Traditionis Custodes

by Aurelio Porfiri

Sophia Institute Press (Manchester NH 2024)

The Right Hand of the Lord is Exalted, (“The Right Hand”) is a new contribution to the growing literature on the history of the Catholic traditionalist movement. The author, Aurelio Porfiri,  has been writing for years on cultural and liturgical themes. I have appreciated very much his collaborations with Aldo Maria Valli. In these, Valli plays the role of the impassioned critic and visionary, while Porfiri poses as the calm voice of reason. Yet he makes his own trenchant points as well – while considering life in the modern world and the Church from the perspective of a practicing musician

If we view The Right Hand as an extended essay on the development of traditionalism since the Council this new book offers much that is positive. It is a leisurely ramble through the 60 years following the beginning of Vatican II. Porfiri structures his chronology around the reigns of the post-1958 popes. He also mentions cultural and world events occurring in each year; some of these examples from the outside world are insightful, others mildly amusing. It is important, however, to situate internal Church affairs in the context of secular history.

Porfiri’s views are solid and perceptive on such topics as the relation of the Vatican Council to the subsequent creation of the Novus Ordo, the role and real opinions of Pope Paul VI or the exact nature of the plans of Francis for the traditional liturgy. In the earlier years covered by this book, they are – perhaps surprisingly – aligned to a great extent with the positions of Archbishop Lefebvre.

Now I was looking forward to reading Porfiri’s insights into the traditionalist scene in Italy. Compared with the United States and especially France,  Italy remains somewhat of a ”black hole” in the history of traditionalism. Here in the States, we know of the glorious early days of Italian traditionalism up to the 1970s. We’ve heard of the role of various noble ladies in Rome and elsewhere. And then there is the Italian internet presence, established by both traditionalists and conservatives, which has steadily developed over the last 25 years. Sites such as Sandro Magister’s Settimo Cielo, Silere non Possum, the late Il Sismografo, Valli’s Duc in Altum, Messa in Latino, to name only a few,  have become required reading in the traditionalist scene worldwide, For example, Silere non Possum has been revolutionary in opening up the inner workings of one diocese to the public view – that diocese, of course, happens to be that of the pope, Rome. 

Porfiri provides helpful information on patrons, organizations and authors. He chronicles the positions of these participants in the traditionalist scene over the decades.  His information, however,  is often too summary to really give us an idea of what these people believe. There is no detailed account of the contributors in the online community. 

The only significant Italian-based community of which I am aware that was not an intellectual or journalistic organization was the Friars of the Immaculate, originally not traditionalist but later tending in that direction. In 2013 Francis set out to destroy them as one of the first shots in his war against Catholic tradition. Porfiri does describe this event but in a summary manner that doesn’t do justice to the topic and its worldwide significance. And contrary to what Porfiri says, the war against the spiritual descendants of these friars continues to this day. (e.g., the recent expulsion of the “Marian Franciscan Sisters and Friars” in the UK.)

I do have more significant reservations which relate to the subtitle of this book: A History of Catholic Traditionalism from Vatican II  to Traditionis Custodes. The Right Hand is a serviceable introduction for someone who is absolutely new to the subject. It is short and easy to read. But it has serious limitations as history. For The Right Hand is in no way a thorough, scholarly history like the works of Yves Chiron, Joseph Shaw, Guillaume Cuchet or Roberto de Mattei all of which deal with aspects of the same years.

For starters, Porfiri allocates the 306 pages of his text as follows: 

Introduction, 3 pages;

Pope John XXIII, 56 pages; 

Pope Paul VI, 152 pages; 

Pope John Paul II, 43 pages;

 Pope Benedict XVI,17 pages;

Pope Francis, 17 pages (plus 6 pages on Traditionis Custodes).

Thus, the last two papacies, in which traditionalism achieved its most complete recognition by the Church and then became the target of a total war launched by the same Church – are covered in some 13% of the text. 

Furthermore, I do not understand why, in Porfiri’s view, each pontificate since 1958 (except that of John Paul I!) constitutes an “era” in the life of the Church or of traditionalism. It seems to me, for example, that the papacies of John Paul II and Benedict constitute a separate era on their own.

Porfiri’s impressionistic, personal approach to the topic by its very nature raises questions of focus and completeness. For example, regarding the Church as a whole, he discusses in some detail events in the 1960s and 70s yet, other than the Vigano affair, says virtually nothing about the sexual abuse crisis which has shaken the Church to its foundations since the 1990’s. Nor does he write of the unending series of  financial scandals of the Vatican since the late 1970’s.  As The Right Hand approaches the present day,  Porfiri’s judgments tend to become more summary and attenuated. We read that a book or issue is “complex,”  “important” or “interesting.” I don’t think these adjectives aid the reader, who is looking for the historian’s assessment of the significance of a fact or event.

Porfiri’s narrative also leaves out important aspects of traditionalism itself. In contrast to the extensive coverage of the earlier literature, more recent books related to traditionalism go unmentioned.  Porfiri says little regarding the United States –  but for him to summarize American traditionalism since 1964 by referring to Fr. Gommar DePauw, Patrick Henry Omlor, Francis Schuckardt and Fr. Gruner’s Fatima Crusader is simply preposterous. Even in Italy, Porfiri says nothing about the role of Cristina Campo in the early traditionalist initiatives, although all this is clearly spelled out in a book by Fr. Francesco Ricossa, which in 2023 Porfiri himself recommended as a source on the subject. In this regard, I note that Una Voce (both in Italy and internationally), which understood itself as the center of the traditionalist world over the decades covered by The Right Hand, is mentioned only in three or four scattered pages!

In my opinion, Porfiri frequently describes groups and individuals without considering their actual strength and significance. So, in United States, even if sedevacantist groups are represented (and thus in Porfiri’s view constitute  “traditionalisms”)  only three traditionalist “denominations” are predominant:  the FSSPX, the Ecclesia Dei societies/communities and the Summorum Pontificum communities.  Porfiri tends to devote substantial space to the more fringe elements within traditionalism, which may have contributed to skewing his judgment. For small conventicles and sects, without the responsibility of dealing with the Church and society as a whole, are freer to take up radical, aggressive and uncompromising positions. 

Perhaps as a consequence of this, Porfiri exaggerates the significance of the divisions among  “traditionalisms.” For what unites all traditionalists is devotion to some form of the pre-conciliar liturgy and adherence to Catholic doctrine and morality as they were understood in the continuous tradition of the Church. There do of course exist belligerent groups, particularly in the sedevacantist sphere. Yet differences among traditionalists are minor compared to the variety of views among “conservative Catholics “ in the United States – to say nothing of the chaos that prevails in the “official” Church.  Didn’t Malachi Martin many years ago foresee the Catholic Church disintegrating into entities not just autocephalous but autozoic  – a development being realized in our own day? 

I also wonder what exactly Porfiri understands traditionalism to be. It’s not, as described by him, a succession of declarations and actions by the Pope, bishops and the Vatican, on the one hand, and responses of diverse traditionalist groups in the form of statements, publications and organizational acts, on the other. Nor is it a series of books being published(although I spend a lot of time reviewing them! ).  Rather, traditionalism is about Catholics who concretely experience the catastrophe unfolding about them at the level of parishes, schools, religious orders, universities, individual families and the entire society – a catastrophe which the Church has never acknowledged. Traditionalism is about the efforts and sacrifices these Catholics (predominantly the laity) make to save the faith of their families and their children by handing down to them “the faith of our fathers” in the liturgy, the sacraments, Catholic culture, and in doctrine and morality. And this engagement frequently spills over into political activity as well. For traditionalism is not at all merely a defensive response: it ultimately wants to restore the entire Church and even reach out to all men – but as Catholics. I am especially disappointed in this regard because Porfiri’s collaborations with Valli demonstrate that he is very much aware of what is happening on the ground in the Catholic Church today and what it’s like living in the desacralized world of modernity.

In conclusion, I would recommend The Right Hand  – with the above reservations. It provides a handy, understandable review of developments in the Church and among traditionalists since 1962. On many of the points this chronicle raises the author and I agree. But we are still waiting for a complete history of Catholic traditionalism as an international phenomenon.

(I find myself with a backlog of five or so book reviews! Here, I review a book – or rather an essay  – published in 2005. It’s significant for two reasons. First it deals directly with topics we ourselves have repeatedly considered on this blog  – indeed it represents a school of thought almost exactly the opposite of the views found in Sebastian Morello’s 2024 Mysticism, Magic and Monasteries which I reviewed yesterday. Second, some consider that I have neglected the sedevacantist strand of Catholic traditionalism. By this review I would hope to start to fill that gap.)

Cristina Campo, or the Abiguity of Tradition

by Fr. Francesco Ricossa

2005 Centro Librario Sodalitum, Verrua Savoia TO (revised edition 2006)

Fr. Francesco Ricossa, as far as I am aware, is still active. He has been one of the leaders of the Institute Mater Boni Consilii in Italy since1985, when he and others split off from the FSSPX. Mater Boni Consilii promotes a variant of sedevacantism and publishes Sodalitium(named after the Sodalitium Pianum, the heresy-hunting organization established by Msgr. Umberto Begnini under Pope Pius X). I gather that in Italy Fr. Ricossa enjoys a considerable reputation that extends well beyond sedevacantist circles. 1) His Cristina Campo, or the Ambiguity of Tradition (the “Ambiguity of Tradition”) is one of the first Catholic attempts to deal with that remarkable leader of early traditionalism. Both Roberto de Mattei and Aurelio Porfiri have recently mentioned favorably this book.2) In the last paragraphs of my own review of Campo’s The Unpardonable I refer, somewhat humorously, to Ricossa’s essay. 3) But in view of the Ambiguity of Tradition having being raised once again, I feel the need to address it in greater detail. I ask: is the Ambiguity of Tradition a serious historical source?

Ricossa’s essay does refer to primary sources (which he often quotes) and is footnoted. On the positive side he succinctly details Cristina Campo’s decisive role in the initial stages of the resistance to the liturgical revolution, such as in several petitions by Catholic and non-Catholic cultural figures to save the Traditional Mass, in the founding of Una Voce Italia and in the so-called “Ottaviani Intervention.” Later, there was her close collaboration with Archbishop Lefebvre and other high clerical figures such as the future cardinal Mayer. 

What I do question, however, is Ricossa’s depiction of the spirituality and religious beliefs of Campo. Contrary to Porfiri’s claim that the Ambiguity of Tradition presents a “learned and respectful” account, it is in fact a sustained attack on Campo’s memory. 

Ricossa’s problems with Campo start with her early fascination with the thought of Simone Weil. There follows Campo’s relationship with Elemire Zolla.  Ricossa is not so much concerned by the moral but the “ideological” aspects of this association . For Ricossa describes Zolla as a “gnostic,” a disciple of Rene Guenon and the “traditionalist” or “perennialist” school. Very briefly, “perennialism” posits the existence of a universal primordial revelation manifest in the traditions of Man which is opposed to the spirit of modernity. Ricossa argues that Zolla became Campo’s “maestro” or guru, guiding her through all kinds of esoteric and hermetic doctrines including those of the eastern religions (Zen, Hinduism). 

Now with the coming of the Vatican Council Campo did become a convinced defender of Catholic “tradition.” But Ricossa insinuates that this conversion may well have been partial, or incomplete. The main evidence for this, as we shall see, is her interest in what Ricossa calls the “deviation” of the Eastern Church. He concludes his biography with sanctimonious prayers for the soul of Christina Campo, hoping that she may be numbered among the saved.

Looking at the published works of Campo, I am unable to find overt advocacy of perennialist, hermetic or esoteric doctrines. Her references to other religions are dwarfed by her constant recourse to the saints, culture and devotions of the Catholic Church: both the post-Tridentine Church and the Eastern Church. Ricossa, however, finds support for his claims in the influences other authors allegedly had on Campo, such as those set forth in the chapter In the Darkness: Weil, Hofmannsthal, Zolla. (pp. 7-16)  I do not know anything about Zolla, but I do know something about some of the more significant figures Ricossa mentions.

Let us start with Simone Weil, who in this book receives almost as much page space as Cristina Campo.  Ricossa describes her this way: 

‘At the crossroads of Christianity and all that is not Christian Simone Weil did not have a doctrine, rather an unstable metaphysical and theological  gnosis made up of tendencies now of the Cathars, now Pythagorean, now Platonic,  which emerged within her from the breeding ground of oriental traditions, especially Indian….” 4)

Ricossa adds:

 “She was a gnostic, therefore, and as so outlined, genuinely Jewish, even in her Marcionite repugnance for the Old Testament” (p. 7) 

Later he describes the alleged gnosticism of Simone Weil as having not pagan, but Talmudic and cabbalistic sources.  (p.41)

This is how Ricossa characterizes one of the most profound mystics of modern times, who, in her way, was an apologist for Catholicism. 

Ricossa continues:  “Along with Simone Weil the literary ‘guiding light’ of Campo was the freemason Hugo von Hofmannsthal, one of the numerous Jewish mitteleuropäisch writers” into whose works Campo was supposedly “initiated” by Jewish and probably masonic friends. ( p.8) In footnote 17, however,  we learn that it was in fact Hofmannsthal’s paternal grandfather who converted to Christianity (although Ricossa claims this was feigned).  In the same footnote Ricossa cites a 1998 masonic source that asserts Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s “distinguished” masonic family background “appears in his works” (not that he was a freemason). 

This is the manner Ricossa describes a writer who considered himself a Catholic, who was buried in the robes of a third order Franciscan and whose works are infused with a profound Catholic culture (e.g. the librettos for Der Rosenkavalier and Die Frau ohne Schatten). Moreover, I don’t immediately understand – other than his Jewish ancestry – why Hofmannsthal is singled out in comparison with Eduard Mörike, Emily Dickinson, John Donne, the English metaphysical poets, T.S. Eliot, and especially William Carlos Williams. After all, Campo translated far more of each of these poets’ work than she did of Hofmannsthal’s; her selections show her outstanding good taste. 

Now one would have thought that after what Campo described as her “conversion” and her engagement in preserving the Latin mass, her Catholic “credentials” would have been established in Ricossa’s eyes –  but no. Campo, among other things, had become involved with what Ricossa calls the “deviation” of the Russia Catholic Church (and of the Eastern Churches in general). And the Eastern Churches are reducible to Hesychasm: the path of contemplation or “quietness.” Indeed, according to Ricossa, there is a relationship between the “Byzantine church” and Freemasonry and with perennialism as well:

“Hesychasm became thus the typical form of “Christian” esotericism especially among the disciples of Rene Guenon…” (p 27)

To the above examples I could add many others – Ricossa writes of the “lethal” Dostoevsky (p.25) and of Boris Pasternak, “(Campo’s) last literary guiding light along with two other sui generis Jews, Simone Weil and von Hofmannsthal.” (p 25). Ricossa even feels the need to defend Romano Amerio from the suspicion of heterodoxy to which the subtitle of his book Iota Unum “Changes (Variazioni ) in the Catholic Church in the Twentieth Century” could otherwise give rise. (fn.132 at pp. 72-73). 

In summary, these illustrations of Ricossa’s judgment prevent me from taking him as a serious biographical authority.

Now I think there is more profound difference between Campo and Ricossa than the latter’s obsession with Freemasons, Jews, esoteric circles and their influences and conspiracies. At the very beginning of his book he cites Weil’s Letter to a Priest in which Weil confesses ( I paraphrase)that while she feels nothing in common with the Catechism of the Council of Trent, when she reads the New Testament, the mystics, the liturgy and sees the celebration of the Mass she feels a kind of certainty “that that faith is mine.” Ricossa remarks that passage “could have been written by Cristina Campo” – in fact, Campo did write a critical but understanding analysis of this and similar passages in her introduction to Weil’s Waiting for God. What both she and Weil are pointing out, however, is the inadequacy of a “decadent” Catholic catechesis that understands the Faith primarily as a set of doctrines (propositions) to be accepted. I regret that Ricossa seems to have such an understanding – thus his allergic reaction to this quote.

Similarly, Ricossa inquires why Campo opposed the changes of the Council in the first place. He speculates that this was “culturally” determined, (merely) aesthetic and even (just) a defense of a generic “sacred” or “tradition” (among many other traditions).(pp. 21-22).  In this argumentation, does not Ricossa come close to the Conciliar establishment’s views, which scorn aesthetic considerations and Man’s natural love of beauty? And is Ricossa that far removed from Bergoglian advocates Cavadini/Weinandy/Healy, who have written of Traditionalists “loving the Mass more than Jesus” as if they were separable or even potentially contradictory? 

Ricossa makes these points himself in an interesting section of his essay which covers the reception of Campo’s work up to 2005. He claims interest in Campo’s writings revived when they were republished starting in 1987 (ten years after Campo’s death)by the Adelphi press, which Ricossa identifies as gnostic and the creation of representatives of Jewish and esoteric circles in the 1960s. ( A look at Adelphi’s current catalog doesn’t seem to me to evidence a pronounced esoteric focus but is rather your typical, somewhat pretentious European literary catalog.5)) 

In June 2002 Gianni Rocca published an essay (“Cristina Campo and the “Primordial Tradition”) setting out the thesis of an “esoteric” Campo. The publisher was Edizioni Ares which Ricossa claims is Opus Dei controlled. ( I believe I have found some evidence for that.)  Now Ricossa is critical of Rocca.  Rocca dwells on the words of various esoteric and related authors rather than what Campo herself wrote and makes errors of fact and interpretation. (Much the same could be said of the Ambiguity of Tradition!)Yet Ricossa nevertheless agrees with Rocca’s conclusions if not his methodology. One wonders:  was Rocca’s essay really the basis of the Ambiguity of Tradition?  Ricossa further claims Rocca’s essay was published by Opus Dei to discredit traditionalism by associating one of its main champions with gnostic and esoteric thought. But isn’t this what Ricossa himself is achieving in the Ambiguity of Tradition? (Una Voce Venice published a statement calling Rocca’s essay “calumny.”) 6)

Doesn’t the Ambiguity of Tradition illustrate two forms of traditionalism,  two possible reactions to the revolution in the Church of the 1960s? That of Fr. Ricossa seeks at all costs to preserve doctrinal purity. In furtherance of that goal, it separates itself from outside contamination of all kinds. In Fr. Ricossa’s mind, Catholics should restrict themselves to their own tradition. This is the sedevacantist way. 

A second approach is that of Christina Campo and like-minded people since her day. She sought to find a common ground with Catholics and non-Catholics in defense of Catholic tradition. To do that she had to argue for the supreme importance of the Catholic tradition to the Christian West and even beyond. Is it not strange  – the “reactionary” traditionalist Campo was able to reach a broader (and better educated)community outside the Church than the Conciliar establishment itself, despite its mania for ecumenism! She was able to do this by virtue of her years of investigating poetry, myths and rituals. This gave her an understanding of the significance of form in liturgy, which in more recent years has been revived and  developed by, among others, Martin Mosebach.   Her intellectual and poetic work did not contradict her later advocacy of Catholic tradition but rather made it possible. 

For contrary to Ricossa, it is not heterodox or “syncretistic” to find mysterious correspondences between the Faith and other religions throughout history. One may glance at the Sistine chapel with its prophets and sibyls. And what of the role that Vergil had in the Church early on as a supposed precursor of the Gospels? Despite Ricossa’s aspersions, a Catholic may seek out the good in schools of thought not aligned with Christianity. Thomas Molnar, for example, cited authors like Mircea Eliade or Jung – and even, if less frequently,  Guenon and Evola – for their insights into desacralization and the loss of the sacred in the West. Yet he in no way was their disciple – he even wrote a book against such currents of thought. (The Pagan Temptation, 1987)

This outward-focused Catholic traditionalism is in a real sense missionary. It wants to communicate Christian truth, as incarnated in the tradition of the Church, to Catholics, Christians and indeed all peoples. Here and there we have seen how effective this can be even under the assault of Traditionis Custodes.  Future events will reveal when and how this “outward focused” traditionalism can progress. Campo herself never saw the success of her endeavors. Indeed, she has been largely forgotten by the traditionalists themselves – even to the present day! Yet for all these insights into what traditionalism can become we can be grateful to Cristina Campo.

1. Porfiri, Aurelio, The Right Hand of the Lord is Exalted at 247-250 (Sophia Institute Press, Manchester NH,  2024)
2. Porfiri, Aurelio, “Cristina Campo and the Monsters of Traditionalism,” onepeterfive (April 28, 2023); De Mattei, Roberto “Cristina Campo and the world of Tradition,” Rorate Caeli ( 2/14/2025)
3. The Society of St. Hugh of Cluny, “The Unforgivable,” (8/9/2023)
4. Ricossa is citing here B. Matteucci, “Simone Weil” in Enciclopedia Cattolica Vol. Xll (Città del Vaticano,1954).
5.  Adelphi Catalogo.
6. Ivo, Don Cesar, “Riatualizzazione del Paganesimo? Callunnie contro Cristina Campo,” Una Voce Venetia (No date; found on the Una Voce Venetia “Pagina Cristina Campo“)

(all internet links accessed 3/3/2025)

Mysticism, Magic, and Monasteries: Recovering the Sacred Mystery at the Heart of Reality

by Sebastian Morello

Os Justi Press (Lincoln, NE 2024)

Sebastian Morello, a well-known contributor to European Conservative magazine, makes a dramatic plea for the reorientation and renewal of Roman Catholic spiritual life. His new book, Mysticism, Magic and Monasteries (“MMM”) appears at a favorable moment, for hasn’t Rod Dreher just published his own manifesto in favor of mysticism and rediscovering the ”enchantment” of the world:  Living in Wonder? (In fact, Morello reviews this book at the end of MMM). Moreover, Charles Coulombe, an advocate of such ideas for many years,  has written a foreword to Morello’s book.

Like Dreher, Morello confronts the desacralization of the world and of the contemporary Church, both now almost totally suffocated by the rationalism and materialism of modernity.  The mystic wellsprings of Christianity have been largely sealed off. In the West, the contemplative life has been reduced to the province of a small group of specialists. Indeed, there are indications that even these remnants have become targets of the leadership of the Church. Among the clergy, instead of mystics we have managers. The result is a world devoid of meaning.

Now throughout this book the author provides a critical review of the state of the Roman Catholic Church today. I have rarely read such a damning and accurate indictment. Of course, Morello’s status as an author at a secular publication enables him to be franker than most. Consider his perceptive comments on the Church’s dramatic loss of authority:

The hierarchy of the Church has almost entirely lost authority in the eyes of the rest of the faithful. … Among the vocal, active, Catholics of the second half of the twentieth century, there were broadly three factions: the progressives, the traditionalists and the post-conciliar neocons. That third category was dominant until the reign of Pope Francis, but since then has nearly totally disappeared. The champions of the “hermeneutic of continuity” have, generally speaking, fallen silent. It was too difficult to keep it up. …[T]here remained two dominant groups: the progressives and the traditionalists. Neither of these groups maintained much confidence in the authority of the Holy See or the curia. (p.47)

Very true – although I am not as confident that the neocons, even if they have quieted down, have totally disappeared!

Morello traces the disenchantment of the West to the ascendancy of the philosophy of Descartes and its division between the mind and the body. He advocates a return to the medieval and renaissance vision of the material world as participating in the divine. He cites elements of Catholic spirituality in prior ages that have been subsequently obscured: like the connections of Albert the Great and even Thomas Aquinas with Platonism, mysticism and “hermetic magic.” He discusses favorably the writings of  Renaissance humanists in Italy and Germany and their fascination with Platonic, esoteric and  hermetic thought. Morello also finds intellectual allies in much more recent times, such as Valentin Tomberg and his unique Meditations on the Tarot (1980)!  All these connections and links were once mainstream in Catholic thought, but in recent ages have been consigned to obscurity by an embarrassed Catholic Church. Morello does not claim that   reconnection with hermetic magic will rescue the Church – after all, the church has one Savior, Jesus Christ.  But, Morello argues, it may help to break the spell  – the black magic – of Enlightened man. 

And thereby, we may begin to retrieve meaning, and in turn start the Church’s process of humbling itself before the true King of the Universe. (pp.79-80)

MMM summarizes some of the best arguments in favor of monasticism that you will encounter anywhere. For Morello, Western Christendom is Benedictine. (In contrast, he has reservations about the spirituality of the Society of Jesus.)  He sees the revival of the Church (whenever that  occurs) as the rising out of a renewed monastic spirituality. To rediscover a spirituality that recognizes the participation of the material world in the sacred will take many years of living a Christian life. This vocation cannot be individualistic but must be shared in a like-minded community. Thus, I think Morello offers a corrective to the facile hopes of restoring a sense of enchantment through an individual spiritual odyssey or, likewise, to the dreams of those who believe they have a blueprint for the restoration of Christian culture. Any such re-enchantment or restoration will be the fruit of years  – indeed generations – of spiritual effort. That is the task of the monks.

Morello gives us concrete illustrations of his ideas. He analyzes, for example, artwork like Vermeer’s Allegory of Faith:

As the woman (a representation of the Christian soul )is whirled up into union with the infinite love of God she remains anchored by her foot in this world where she encounters that love. (pp.7-9)

Some of Morello’s examples like his description of exercising ( “like a knight Templar!”) with a medieval Indian mace,  may be a little too esoteric.  But there’s no denying the power of Morello’s chapter on “killing our elders.” This of course is now happening literally as the practice of euthanasia spreads. But “spiritual murder”  is also taking place in society and in the Church – in the form of the destruction of prior culture and traditions. We no longer want or listen to the advice of the elders – a key institution in all traditional societies. Instead, we applaud breaking with nature and tradition:

This pattern of replacing what we had with a poor version of the same thing is clearly observable in the cultural killing of our elders, for our societies are now full of therapists and counselors. … We went from a people who will seek a solution for the problems that arise, for love of the community that they helped to build, to a people in whose financial interest it is to perpetuate the problems encountered. (p.126)

Morello challenges us to reject this modern paradigm, starting in our own homes –  by teaching our children and grandchildren how to relate to parents, grandparents and relatives.

Concluding MMM is Morello’s review of Rod Dreher’s Living in Wonder. Morello endorses that book and argues that it makes a clearer and more systematic case for the recovery of the sacred that I was able to discover. However, Morello does criticize Dreher for a certain lack of clarity when he seems to identify the pagan and Christian understanding of the world.  A Christian must distinguish this world, however enchanted, from the divine original. This world does participate in the divine original but is also fallen. Morello thus very clearly rejects the temptation of pantheism – an accusation often raised against those who wish to restore the role of mysticism in the Church.

Altogether a unique and challenging book!

Here is a link to the book listing at Os Justi Press:

Mysticism, Magic and Monasteries