We read in the Brooklyn Tablet that another Catholic parish in the New York area is in danger of closing. 1) Transfiguration church (by now in a combined parish with St. Stanislaus Kostka) was a Lithuanian national parish in Maspeth, Queens. Time has not been kind to the Lithuanian presence in New York – remember the old parish of Our Lady of Vilna in Manhattan. We read that nowadays only one mass a month is offered in Lithuanian at Transfiguration. In 2024 a congregation of, on the average, five people attended this mass. Total attendance for the three “weekend”  masses is around 150. Massive repairs to the church and rectory are also needed. 

This parish was of some interest to us because in the not too distant past a traditional mass was regularly celebrated there. 2) I do not read any more about that in the current discussions within the parish on how to rescue the church. Quite the contrary! –  ideas suggested to keep the church open include “seeking landmark status, applying for grants to pay for repairs and reaching out to underserved communities.” Adds one parishioner: “one of those underserved groups is working people.”

We cannot say that Transfiguration church is a masterpiece of architecture. The current parish church from 1962 reflects the uneasy transition, typical of that time, from traditional architecture to modernity (or at least what passed for modernity in the Catholic Church)

The diocese of Brooklyn has not yet made a final decision whether to keep Transfiguration church open.

1. Katinas, Paula, “Transfiguration Church in Danger of Closing: Pastor,” The Tablet at 10 (March 29,2025).
2. The Society of St. Hugh of Cluny, “New Sunday Traditional Mass in Queens,” (September 23, 2019); “Traditionalism in Brooklyn and Queens,” (February 21, 2021)

Meditation at Mass for the Monday after the Third Sunday of Lent

by Fr. Richard G. Cipolla

The Gospel for this Mass is Jesus’ first visit to his home town of Nazareth after the
beginning of his preaching and teaching ministry. He has already preached in the
region of Galilee, but now he has come to the synagogue in Nazareth on Saturday
and is asked to do the reading, which happens to be from the prophet Isaiah
predicting the coming of the Messiah. And then he preaches to the people. The
reaction of the people is that they like what he is saying and also how he is saying
it. And they say to themselves: Isn’t this Joseph’s son? We know his whole
family. And so they are happy that a home town boy has made good. They did not
listen to the words of Isaiah except as a reading from one of the prophets. They
were religious Jews attending the service in the synagogue, part of what they did as
Jews. And because they did this, they thought of themselves as good God-fearing
people and were pleased that this hometown man had the gift of giving a good
sermon, good because it made them feel good about themselves. They had heard
about Jesus as a preacher, teacher and healer in the surrounding towns, and now
they hoped that he would perform some miracles for them.
And then Jesus takes on the role of the prophet, and he points out that the great
prophets like Elijah and Elisha performed their greatest miracles of healing and
compassion for non-Jews, for these prophets could not find Jews who really
believed. And in effect, what Jesus was telling these people: “You came here to
hear me read well and to speak well, but you will not believe who I really am,
because you use religion to comfort yourselves that you are the chosen people and
therefore you have an automatic “in” with God, and there is nothing to worry about
as to how you live your lives.” This makes the congregation very angry, and they threaten to throw Jesus over a cliff near the synagogue. But Jesus escapes through the crowd.

What does this have to do with us here this evening? We have come to this Mass,
which is what Catholics do. Some are here because the Mass is offered in the
Traditional Form. And we come here in the season of Lent. This may be part of
your Lenten rule. So many Catholics treat Lent as the pre-Easter season when we
are asked to do acts of penance, like giving up certain foods, not eating meat on
Fridays, maybe do some Bible reading, or remember people who are ill and
perhaps visiting them. And all this is good, but it can be merely following the
religious rules, which expire once Easter comes. It has nothing to do with really changing one’s life. More and more Catholics go to Mass to hear a good sermon and then to receive Holy Communion. Even if the sermon is not good, at least you get something out of Mass, you get Holy Communion. What would it take to shock people in the congregation who think they have their faith all figured out and will automatically go to heaven when they die because they are practicing Catholics? Who would dare to tell them that that might not be true? That person might be thrown off a cliff– or even crucified.

From the Assam Kirche in Munich

The Wednesday, March 19, is the Feast of St. Joseph. The following churches will have traditional Masses.

St. Mary Church, Norwalk, CT, 9:15 am Solemn Mass (organized by Regina Pacis Academy)

Sacred Heart Oratory, Redding, CT, 6 pm

Sts. Cyril and Methodius, Bridgeport, CT, 7:45 am low Mass; 6 pm high Mass

St. Patrick Oratory, Waterbury, CT, 10 am -12 noon Eucharistic Adoration; 12 noon, High Mass for all volunteers and workers of St. Patrick’s parish.

Our Lady of Mount Carmel, New York, NY, Low Masses at 7am and 7:45am; Missa Cantata at 7pm followed by the blessing of Saint Joseph’s table.

Holy Innocents Church, New York, NY, 6 pm

St. Margaret of Cortona, Riverdale, Bronx, NY, Solemn Mass, 6:30 pm, reception to follow

St. Josaphat Church, Bayside, Queens, NY, 7 pm

St. Paul’s Church, Yonkers, NY, 12 noon.

St. Patrick Church, Huntington, NY (Long Island), 7:30 pm Missa Cantata.

Sacred Heart, Esopus NY, 11:30 am, Low Mass

Our Lady of Mount Carmel Newark, NJ, Missa Cantata 7pm

Oratory of Saint Anthony of Padua, West Orange NJ, 9 am low Mass, 12 noon low Mass, 7 pm Solemn Mass

Our Lady of Fatima, Pequannock, NJ, 7 pm high Mass.

Shrine Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament, Raritan, NJ, Missa Cantata, 7 pm

Corpus Christi, South River, NJ, Missa Cantata, 7 pm, procession and veneration of the cloak of St. Joseph relic, blessing with St. Joseph oil from shrine in Montreal, St. Joseph table with pasteries in parish hall after Mass.

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 association of Notre-Dame de Chrétienté states that the bishop of Chartres, Msgr. Philippe Christory, has confirmed that the final mass of the pilgrimage will take place in the cathedral. Moreover, he intends to preach at this mass. This is after “rumors” – and a very public discussion – about intervention by the Vatican to prohibit this mass in the cathedral. See:

“Communiqué Notre Dame de Chrétienté” (in French) Le Forum Catholique (3/9/2025)

“No prohibition of the old Mass on the Traditionalist Pilgrimage after all” (in German), katholisch.de (3/10/2025)

Apparently there still will be no mass in Notre Dame de Paris at the start of the pilgrimage. And the many issues raised by the Vatican potentially intervening in such a pilgrimage remain unaddressed.

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)