Sire

Éditions de Fallois 1991

L’anneau du pêcheur

Éditions Albin Michel 1995

By Jean Raspail

Jean Raspail, who passed away in 2020, is best known to the English-speaking world for his 1973 novel The Camp of the Saints. Here he presented in startling detail a scenario in which a decadent Europe is overrun by third world migrants and simultaneously undermined by libertine progressive forces. As a kind of aside, Raspail depicted the ineffectual activity of the debilitated Roman Catholic Church in the face of this apocalyptic confrontation. Could the author have guessed that forty years later his vision of a grand migration would be literally fulfilled on the southern border of the EU and the United States – with a Western world in the grip of total moral and political chaos and the pope of the Roman Catholic Church actively furthering the movement of decomposition? Rod Dreher called attention in 2015 to this most amazing prediction. Of course, Mr. Dreher also had to dutifully register his horror at the “racism” of Raspail’s book, at its “offensive” language that makes one “cringe.” 1)

Jean Raspail, however, continued to write books in a prophetic vein. He loves to describe causes that seem to be lost and the hidden spiritual forces that still dwell behind the façade of modern life.  His admiration is clearly for those who adhere with unshakable loyalty to outdated and “reactionary” crusades in the face of all the odds and all calculations of success. Is it at all surprising, then, that I read in the notices of the author’s death that he was friendly to the traditional mass community?

In Sire, Raspail tells a fantastic tale of how Philippe Pharamond, the young heir to the French throne,  accompanied by a handful of companions, travels over present-day France on a journey to Reims cathedral to be anointed king of France. The odyssey, at time bordering on the supernatural, is a large part covered on horseback. Raspail surrounds the narrative of the group’s travels with marvelous descriptions of nature (or whatever of it is left today). The progress of the royal party is actively helped by an unlikely group of supporters: a mysterious monk and former Cardinal, a leading French industrialist; a black female security guard at the basilica of Saint Denis, a taxi driver – and many more. Others seem to be mesmerized against their will into facilitating the anointing. There are adversaries and persecutors too – especially one particularly repulsive ex-Jesuit in the employ of the state security forces. For the French government perceives this crowning as a threat. 

Raspail gives us a vivid description of the decayed and dying French Catholic Church. Her clergy are characterless eunuchs without personality. The present-day treasury of the cathedral of Reims is but a collection of junk. The churches – regardless of the support of the state –  can be at any moment a scene of vandalism or even murder.

Throughout there are haunting,  phantasmagoric images. In incredibly violent scenes, we witness the  leaders of the French Revolution systematically desecrating the graves of the French monarchs at Saint Denis and then destroying – or so it seems – the vessel containing the holy chrism at Reims. Prayers are secretly recited in the early morning darkness in the Basilica of Saint Denis – surrounded by a decrepit, hostile and grotesquely ugly modern town and menaced at every moment with vandalism – before the tombs of the French kings. (The basilica has indeed recently been vandalized in March 2019 and January 2022)

These images culminate in an apocalyptic nighttime vision in which Pharamond is forced to confront France as it is today (that is in 1991 – in 2022 it is far worse). Pallid wraiths sit in a fast food-type chain restaurant by the highway devouring vile food. Endless rows of identical high-rise apartments extend out from Paris whose inhabitants sit glued to their flickering TV screens (today it would be their computers). Pharamond faces the temptation of despair before this realization of how little his calling and dignity means to the Frenchmen of today.

Yet Pharamond overcomes this challenge and continues onward to his destiny. And this is the significance of the anointing and of the search in this novel for the last drops of the oil brought down by the Holy Spirit for the crowning of Clovis, the first king of the Franks. For Pharamond is king by divine right – it matters little how many accept him. This to Raspail is the nature of royalty. He describes beautifully too the personal relationship that the subject of a king has with his sovereign and the rules of etiquette incumbent upon both. The author reflects movingly on the nature of fellowship and the beauty of sharing risks  – and meals. 

The novel actually builds up a fair amount of tension – we really await with trepidation for the anointing to be accomplished. We feel for the royal party and their heterogenous entourage. At the end, after the rituals have been accomplished,  Pharamond departs. We are not told what the next chapter of his story will be. But it seems that something necessary in some hidden way to the French nation’s spiritual equilibrium has been achieved.

L’anneau du pêcheur (The Ring of the Fisherman) turns to the spiritual world. The novel is based on the extraordinary premise that the Avignon papacy never came to an end; that a line of Avignon popes has endured unto our day. Now, I admit that, outside of France perhaps,  the Avignon papacy does not enjoy the best of reputations. But Raspail gamely goes to bat for the home team. In contrast, he depicts St. Catherine of Siena’s “sweet Jesus on earth” – the murderous Urban VI, restored to the city of Rome- in the darkest of colors. 

Raspail forcefully makes the case for Avignon in the Western schism. Much of the narrative deals with Pedro de Luna (Benedict XIII) and his stubborn fight against all odds for his papal rights regardless of what the Councils of Pisa and Constance, the French King and his own sovereign in Aragon may be saying and decreeing. For him truly, fiat Justitia et pereat mundus.

Now according to Raspail, after Benedict XIII and a couple of succeeding pretenders, a hidden series of Popes continued the Avignon line to the present day. These became poor men – vagabonds perhaps – but true men of God and endowed with the gift of miracles. But Raspail implies that these have been the true popes. And the last of this line now undertakes a journey to Rome (which attracts the attention of the Vatican). And this pope, like all his predecessors in this lineage,  bears the name “Benedict” ! 

 Of course the uncanny prophetic gifts of Raspail himself are here once again demonstrated. For who, reading this book, cannot avoid thinking of that lonely, hidden Pope Benedict of our very own day  – Joseph Ratzinger – and the contrast of his quiet spirituality with the brutal carnival show presided over by the current occupant of the see of Rome? A Pope Benedict who, once again, is suffering savage attacks in his country of birth.

Actually, The Ring of the Fisherman does not dwell on criticism of the the present-day Church. Rather, the novel contrasts the authentic spirituality of the humble man of God  Benedict with the great void of today’s secular France, insensible to spiritual things. In this novel, it seems that the battle for the soul of France has already been fought long ago –  and won by the present age. Much of the story involves the travels of  Benedict and his retinue about ruined cathedrals, mysterious chapels and isolated monasteries in the south of France. Criticism of the Vatican II Church is mostly subtly implied – such as by depicting a supposed Vatican secret security agency. Only in a brief but memorable description of the yowling crowds at a gigantic “event” in a South American stadium can be found overt satire of today’s Church. Engulfed by the chanting of the mob which surrounds him, John Paul II’s feeble voice is drowned out. (Raspail does not mention that this kind of show was largely instituted by John Paul II in the first place).There’s also a final sentence in this novel mentioning the imprudence of John XXIII in calling the Vatican Council, similar to that of his predecessor John XXIII,  a pope (or antipope) of the Western Schism, of agreeing to  the Council of Constance. Do I need to add that everyone -including the last Pope Benedict – seems to be using the traditional liturgy?

In my opinion, although its premise is fascinating, The Ring of the Fisherman is less successful, as a novel, than Sire. It is far more static – the basic conflict is evident very early on. The contrast running through the novel between the world of Pedro de Luna (Benedict XIII) and that of his modern-day descendant holds our attention but has certain monotony.  And Raspail’s descriptions of Vatican officials and departments   – a la Malachi Martin – are not really developed. In contrast,  J-K Huysmans’ Là-Bas also is structured around an alternating narrative of the late middle ages(Gilles de Rais) and the modern day (occultist circles)  but builds up to a dramatic climax of both threads. 

The Pope Benedict of the novel dies before reaching Rome. Yet Pope John Paul II arranges that his body be brought to St Peter’s and buried simply in the catacombs, with a low Mass,  before a small congregation but with the funeral honors of a Pope. There, in a simple white marble sarcophagus, resides the last of the Avignon Popes with this simple inscription:

BENEDICTUS

1. Dreher, Rod, “It’s Jean Raspail’s World Now” The American Conservative (9/7/2015) 

Please note that after the Latin Mass a traditional Italian St. Joseph’s Table will follow in the parish center, tickets are 15$ per person and will feature traditional food/pasta/beans and other homemade treats from the parishioners.

Father Donald Kloster will be conducting a Lenten Day of Retreat at St. Marguerite Bourgeoys Church, 138 Candlewood Lake Road, Brookfield, CT. on Saturday March 12.

09:00-09:50  Confessions

10:00-10:45  Low Mass

10:55-11:15  Talk

11:20-11:40  Holy Rosary

11:45-13:00  Luncheon

13:05-13:25  Talk

13:30-14:00  Adoration and Benedicition

Just joking! But I saw Bruce Frohnen’s great essay after I discussed some of the same points here.

Rather than rehearse the long list of abuses arising from state actors, many of them convinced of their own moral rectitude, it might be best to end with a brief reference to what administrative centralization and the ideology of sovereignty have done within the Church herself. The First Vatican Council, convened from 1869-70, was an attempt by the Church hierarchy to respond to the rise of sovereign states by instituting state-like centralization in the Church.  Observers like Saint Cardinal John Newman feared such motives but took solace in the fact that the “Universal Church” could never act as a concrete, localized state. Unfortunately, administrative and canon law changes over the succeeding century and a half have proved more successful than he predicted. Bishops have become unquestioned rulers of the laity in their jurisdictions, and the hierarchy in the Vatican has become utterly divorced from, and immune to, attempts from clerics and laymen alike to stem corruption, abuse, and ideological fads—all of them trending left. Consider that in the Catholic Church today we have priests giving the Eucharist to radically pro-abortion politicians; parish schools being shut down (over loud lay opposition) in order to pay settlements to victims of pederast priests; a Pope who bemoans global warming but will not mention the massacre of Christians in China or the Middle East; and a hierarchy that continues to cover for active homosexuals while simultaneously working to stamp out the Latin Mass. One would think such events might give traditionalist Catholics pause in their support for the integralist pursuit of centralization. Constitutionalism, both within and outside the Church, grew out of opposition to abuses like these. Its demise, whether at the hands of liberals or anti-liberals, will benefit only tyrants and their hangers-on.

Frohnen, Bruce P., “The Lure of Integralism,” Chronicles: a Magazine of American Culture ( February 2022)

José A. Ureta has responded on Rorate Caeli to our series on Ultramontanism: its Life and Death. What follows are my comments on his response.

My brief overview of ultramontanism attempted to describe what occurred in historical fact. I wrote of ultramontanism as a system of governance of the Church that had achieved its basic form under Pius IX. Its first characteristic was the centralization in the papacy of all authority in governance, theology, liturgy etc. with rights of intervention even on the local level.  Ultramontanist practice recharacterized the role of the clergy of the Church as bureaucrats of a vast administrative structure. Any criticism of the hierarchy and especially of the Pope was prohibited. The scope of de facto papal infallibility increasingly extended to cover even the day-to-day decisions of the Pope. Authority and obedience to it became overriding principles of the Church. Finally,  Catholics began to develop a personal relationship with the Pope as a supreme spiritual leader. 

These characteristics of the actual practice of the ultramontane system were not necessarily fully supported by theology or canon law. They developed unevenly and over the decades.  I am grateful to Mr. Ureta for a reference that shows that at least a minority had perceived theological difficulties with ultramontanist practice early on:

 In an article published in L’Osservatore Romano on February 10, 1942, Msgr. Pietro Parente denounced “the strange identification of Tradition (source of Revelation) with the living Magisterium of the Church (custodian and interpreter of the Divine Word). 1)

In the same vein, hadn’t  Jaroslav Pelikan (certainly not a witness hostile to Catholicism) wondered in 1959 whether “the magisterium has virtually suspended the authority of tradition”? 2)

Mr. Ureta, however, seems to define ultramontanism much more narrowly than I do – as a special subcategory of Catholic ecclesiastical politics and thought. He seems to admit as ultramontanists only those popes and prelates who espoused policies with which he agrees  – especially those relating to combatting social and intellectual revolution. This produces the strange result that, for Mr. Ureta, only two popes, Pius IX and Pius X, seem to have been “true” ultramontanes! Thus the ultramontanes (using Mr. Ureta’s definition) appear to have been singularly unsuccessful in convincing even their superiors in Rome of the merits of their policies. All the other popes of the last 170 years are described by Mr. Ureta as non- or even anti-ultramontanes.

 Further,  it seems these “authentic” Roman ultramontanes were utterly unable to argue effectively against the progressives at Vatican II. Regardless of their at times eloquent objections to what was unfolding before their eyes, they all conformed to the post-conciliar changes – with the conspicuous exception of Archbishop Lefebvre. Thus in their majority, they testified in true ultramontane fashion to the priority of obedience to papal authority and the preservation of external unity over their doctrinal and liturgical convictions.

I also find a lack of historical awareness in Mr. Ureta’s  remarks.  So, for example, he triumphantly points to St. Gregory VII  as a pope who “raised papal authority to an apex” and “victoriously affirmed papal supremacy over civil authority.”  But the world of Gregory VII was not at all that of Pius IX – the historical context was entirely different! Gregory VII reigned as Christendom was reaching its first maturity. By Pius IX’s day, Christendom had already collapsed. Under Gregory VII, the Church was beginning to consolidate her temporal power. Ultramontanism crystallized in 1870 – precisely when the Pope’s temporal power disappeared. Now Gregory VII sought both much less and much more than the 19th century ultramontanes. He had no idea of imposing some kind of centralized administrative regime governing all aspects of the Church’s life (which in any case would have been physically impossible in the 11th century.) For example, Mr. Ureta’s own reference to Cluny illustrates that in the 10^th– 11^th centuries the liturgical restoration of the Church proceeded on its course entirely outside of Rome. (By the way, Gregory VII was most probably not a “confrere” of St. Hugh of Cluny.) 

On the other hand, as Mr. Ureta  points out,  Gregory VII fought not only for the freedom of the Church from secular control – laudably enough – but also for the supremacy of the Church over secular authority. Those latter claims – and the spiritual weapons utilized to enforce them –  had problematic aspects. The Church has avoided raising them in more recent eras. And I don’t think that today anyone sane would want to return temporal authority to the Church. For the Vatican’s management of the limited secular affairs remaining to it is just as abysmal as the exercise of its spiritual responsibilities.

Of course, I never said that ultramontanism was the root of all evils in the Church. Clearly, the loss of faith that spread from the 18^th century onward  has been the Church’s main challenge. Vatican II too is critical both as the product of that loss of faith and an immense accelerant of it. Finally, the formless liturgy of the Conciliar Church is both a further symptom and cause of Catholic decline. 

What I did write was that the essentially defensive regime of ultramontanism had achieved  mixed results even during its heyday of 1870-1958. I described how the overthrow of most aspects of Catholic practice and  liturgical life during and after Vatican II were inconceivable without ultramontane liturgical centralization and the habits of absolute deference to authority. Further,   I pointed out that the conservative heroes John Paul II and Benedict had been unable to do more than preserve the “great facade” of unity despite relentless pro-papalist propaganda.

Finally, with the regime of Pope Francis, we witness the synthesis of extreme ultramontane centralization with progressive revolutionary content. Just in the last year, Pope Francis has intensified his control of the Knights of Malta. He has personally  intervened to endorse a small movement in the United States (New Ways Ministry) that had been subject over the years to various ecclesiastical censures. He has similarly endorsed one political figure (President Biden)  who was potentially coming into conflict with the United States Catholic hierarchy over his aggressive support of abortion.  Irrespective of their formal ecclesiastical position, confidantes of Francis like Cardinals Cupich (Chicago) and Hollerich (Luxembourg) by reason of their blatant political connection enjoy an inordinate influence in the Church. Finally and most extraordinarily,  in Traditionis Custodes Francis has condemned an entire sector of the Catholic clergy, religious  and laity to second class status, exclusion and eventual elimination. To carry out this mission of annihilation, Francis has endorsed rules implementing the anti-Tradionalist campaign even on the parish level. All these initiatives are buttressed by  ultramontane acts and rhetoric – from the canonization of the Conciliar popes to the positing of external Church unity as an absolute goal to the grandiose claims of “magisterial authority.”

Yet while the scope of Francis’s papal power seems to grow endlessly, in fact the far greater power of the left and the secular establishment confines it within narrow limits. The Church is increasingly playing the role of a mere agency of the secular power elite of the West on matters such as Covid, interreligious relations and “migrants.”  The German church is proceeding on its progressive synodal path regardless of what the Vatican says.  All Francis can do is talk of unity and attempt to coopt the German synodal ideas and rhetoric. The same is true for the Church on the local level. For example, in our area, the LGBT parishes of Manhattan proceed on their chosen path – publicly and explicitly –   no matter what Cardinal Dolan says. In the Bridgeport diocese, an attempt by the principal of an exclusive girls school to restrain pro-Planned Parenthood manifestations (with Bishop Caggiano’s backing) ended in total capitulation – by the Church. Thus, the great growth of bureaucratic ultramontane power coincides with greatest weakness of the Church in the face of both secular society and the Church’s own internal progressives.

Catholic Traditionalism in fact had coexisted within the Church with the Vatican II establishment and for some eight years even with the regime of Francis. For hadn’t Pope Benedict with Summorum Pontificum summoned Catholics to set aside their earlier resentments and animosities in the interest of liturgical peace? This was in fact the course followed by most Traditionalists.  Indeed,  some went further and in order to ingratiate themselves with bishops and mainstream religious orders were willing to disguise and censor their own opinions. 

Yet Francis has now revoked that peace. Moreover,  beyond the liturgical realm, he has either made or is fostering drastic changes to fundamental Catholic practices and even the basic rules of morality. All of this is justified as an exercise of papal authority – resting on the arbitrary decision of Francis. And this is largely accepted  – at least publicly and at least by the clergy. Yet, for others,  a stark choice now presents itself.  One must choose between the will of Francis and, not just Traditionalism, but even Catholicism as such. And really,  between the current papal regime and one’s sanity. For as in any totalitarian regime, not even the rules of logic are allowed to restrict the arbitrary will of absolute authority. As a Francis favorite, Cardinal Jean-Claude Hollerich (a Jesuit drawing on Asian “wisdom”) puts it:

The Japanese do not think as in the European logic of opposites. If we say a thing is black, it means it is not white. The Japanese, on the other hand, say: It is white, but perhaps also black.’ In Japan opposites can be combined without changing the point of view.”  3)

It is in this disturbing context that I feel compelled to reexamine the role of  ultramontanism in the Church.

1. Ureta, Jose A., “Modernism, not Ultramontanism, is the Synthesis of all Heresies – A Response to Stuart Chessman,” Rorate Caeli, 1/25/2022
2. Pelikan, Jaroslav, The Riddle Of Roman Catholicism at 83 (Abingdon Press, New York, 1959)
3. Magister, Sandro, “If the Conclave wants a second Francis, Here is the Name and the Program,”  Settimo Cielo 2/10/2022

Nobody wants to see the Causes of the Abuse Scandal. But they can be clearly described.

By Martin Mosebach

In the wake of the never-ending crisis of child abuse in the Catholic Church, the question of underlying causes is raised  again and again. Pope Francis claims to have identified as the cause a disastrous “clericalism.”  Many bishops are convinced that the “system” of the Church fosters the abuse of children and youth by priests. Ohers would make celibacy specifically responsible.
…

Clearly, it’s been forgotten that the present-day Church is no way the inflexible and fossilized monster depicted in these statements. Rather, she has undergone a revolution unprecedented in the entire history of the Church. The Second Vatican Council, that ended sixty years ago, to be sure had confirmed the external form of the hierarchy – the direction of the Church by the pope and the bishops – just as it did the traditional faith of the Church. At the same time, however, it launched a development that indeed “left no stone standing.”  The face of the Church in these sixty years has been transformed beyond recognition. Moreover, these changes are not yet at an end. For a long time now this process has in truth become  unmanageable because the structures of obedience have largely collapsed in the post-conciliar Church.

…
If I’m not completely mistaken, a high percentage of the abuse cases have been recorded in the years since the Council. Whoever seriously wants to seek the causes of the catastrophe that grew and grew at that time must also consider the “when”  – the years following the “new Pentecost” of Vatican II.

Such an investigation cannot be expected of the hierarchy. For by the canonization of the two conciliar Popes John XXIII and Paul VI the Council has likewise been canonized. Even Benedict XVI,  who has commented on the abuse scandals from his retirement retreat, did not dare to touch on the role that the post-conciliar developments played in them.  …  He only pointed out that this period coincided with revolts of 1968……What he didn’t mention was the condition in which the clergy found itself by reason of the post-conciliar breakdown just as the influence of that political revolt began to take effect.

In retrospect the disaster was precisely here. The hollowing out of all authority and the sexual revolution struck a priesthood from which had been removed all elements working to preserve its discipline. Literally from one day to the next the order was overthrown that up till then had molded the daily life of a priest.
…

None of the recent popes resisted this erosion of the Catholic priesthood even though they proclaimed otherwise ex cathedra. I am not asserting that a priest of the “classical tradition” cannot be the perpetrator of a sexual crime – these have occurred at all times even in the strictest observance. Certainly, however,  a priest embedded in the traditional discipline had an easier time mastering his temptations. Therefore the Roman assertion that pedophile crimes are a consequence of “clericalism” is absolutely grotesque – the opposite is true. It was the post-conciliar anticlericalism within the Church, which denied the special sacramental status of the priest, that kicked away the important supports which enabled priests to remain faithful to their vows. 
…

We cannot forget that the concept “reform,” so well established in the history of the Church, had,  until Vatican II, signified the restoration of discipline, a tightening of the leash, the end of sloppiness and a return to traditional order. The “reforms” of the Second Vatican Council are the first in the entire history of the Church which departed from this understanding. They no longer trusted tradition to reach the men of today and therefore relied on a general softening of doctrine and practice –  without being able, however,  by this pastoral relativism to retain people in the Church. After all, it was not a Church, ossified in her rites and petrified in doctrine, which lost  the faithful in an ever-increasing stream but a Church weakened in doctrine and formless in liturgy. It wasn’t priests broken under the yoke of rules alien to everyday life who became the perpetrators of abuse but those who for decades had been released from clear spiritual supervision.

Partial translation of Mosebach, Martin, “Das Reformdesaster der Kirche,” Neue Zürcher Zeitung (02/09/2022)

There will be a Requiem High Mass at St Augustine Church, 31 Caputo Road, North Branford, on Tuesday, February 15th at 6:00 pm.
The intention for the Mass is for the deceased of the Parish AND for the St Gregory Purgatorial Society. Prayer at the catafalque.

Fr. Robert L. Turner, celebrant