Only If They're Terminally Ill...?

I shouldn't be surprised. Babies are already killed legally through abortion, disabled babies can be killed legally right up until birth. Why should the mere fact of birth get in the way?

The Belgian Senate has voted to extend euthanasia to children. It's being called "voluntary euthanasia for terminally-ill children" but nothing on this earth is going to persuade me that a child is in any way able to "decide" that they want to die.

The scaremongering tactics ("Oh, but the disease has to be terminal and there must be unbearable pain!") are pretty clever. Quite apart from the simple fact that painkilling drugs such as morphine can be given so effectively that pain should not be experienced to that extent if the medical care is being given properly, there are several other points to consider. How much pain is unbearable? How do you quantify it?

I have been in what seemed to be unbearable pain which threatened to go on without any hope of treatment. I wanted to end it all. I actually considered it, but wasn't willing to put my family through the awfulness of coping with my suicide. This was some time before my reversion to the Church. As it turned out, the pain (caused by a combination of (iatrogenic) Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, chondromalacia patellae and the complete erosion of the front of my tibia) was easily treated once a correct diagnosis was made - but it took several years of misdiagnosis and increasingly severe pain before I got there.

Now the pain I was in was not due to a terminal disease, but the doctors I saw said that there was no cure for it. Why should a child in pain for which there is no "cure" be excluded from euthanasia on the paltry grounds that the disease causing the suffering isn't a terminal one? Where does one draw the line?

So, by allowing euthanasia for children in one scenario, the Belgian authorities have opened the way to killing children who are suffering from disorders that their parents cannot cope with, or that the medical establishment cannot afford to cope with...

It will only get worse. We need to pray for our legislators, and pray for the medical establishment.

Last Chance For The Ashes...

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm a jinx. England seem to have taken a turn for the worse since I started to take an interest in cricket. I listened to the Second Ashes Test on the radio each night as I drifted off to sleep, and it turned into a bit of a nightmare - even I didn't need anyone to tell me that England's first innings was a major disaster. It only got slightly better for the second innings, and I suspect it would have been much worse had Australia not declared early due to concerns about rain.

I'm not entirely sure about tactics - the importance of batting position, for example, escapes me. Why does it matter whether Root goes in at Number 3 or not? And if you have a bowler who gets lots of wickets, why bother to change him? As for "sledging" - it's just the equivalent of playground name-calling, isn't it? So why are grown men making such a fuss? I obviously still have much to learn...

Anyone For A Tuna Sandwich...?

Everyone seems to love cat videos. Quite simply, on the internet, cats rule.

However, even in real life, cats have the edge on other mammals. These people have presumably paid to see the dolphins, or feed the dolphins, or maybe even swim with the dolphins, and all you can hear on the video is "Hey, look at the cat!"

Yes, it's sweet. But the cat isn't kissing the dolphin. Cats aren't that stupid. It isn't even "playing." I suspect that it can smell the dolphin's tuna-breath...

I Couldn't Resist...

Yes, yes, I know! It isn't Christmas yet... but it makes me smile, so...

First Celebrate Advent...

This was posted on YouTube last year, but it still bears repeating...

A Digital Advent Wreath...

Jeff, the Curt Jester, very kindly allows his fellow-bloggers to make use of his cool Advent Wreath, which I have stolen for my sidebar. Each week, another candle is lit, and Christmas itself is welcomed by a picture of Our Lady holding the newborn Jesus.

If you want to get the image for your own blog, you can find the Javascript code over at the Curt Jester's blog.

Thanks again, Jeff!

First Vespers of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception...

My Renewal of Vows on Saturday was followed by the celebration of First Vespers of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, which was a fabulous way to round off the day (and made up for the fact that I felt like death warmed up!)

I love this particular feast - there is something so right about it. Just think, if you were God, and could choose your own mother, wouldn't you want to make her as perfect as it was possible to be, untouched by Original Sin (with all that entails)? Well, Jesus is God, and he did just that...

And then, on Sunday morning, we had the Mass for the Feast itself... (it takes precedence over the Second Sunday of Advent in the Extraordinary Form calendar.)

The Guild Meeting...

The only two bloggers willing to pose for photos at the excellent Guild of Blessed Titus Brandsma meeting back at the end of November were the two priest bloggers, Fr. Ray Blake and Fr. Timothy Finigan...

I've been snowed under (and very stressed) at work, so hadn't gotten around to blogging any sooner, but there have been other first-class reports of the proceedings from Richard Collins (aka Linen on the Hedgerow) and from the lovely Bones (Laurence England.)

Lunch was provided by Annie Elizabeth (Defénde Nos in Proélio) though I almost caused a major diplomatic incident by refusing to eat the pea and ham soup (on the basis that I loathe vegetables in general, and pulses in particular) and so was very nearly banned from having the sticky toffee pudding... She relented when my lip started to wobble (Annie's sticky toffee pudding is legendary!) but I suspect that I am paying for it now with a very bad cold (which Annie will, no doubt, inform me would have been avoided if I'd eaten my veg!)

The talk was a subject very dear to my heart - some of the miracles at Lourdes - given by Dr. Adrian Treloar. I did my best to live-tweet some of the main points. Adrian asked me to give the Catholic Medical Association a plug: something which I am more than happy to do. The CMA is responsible for producing the journal, Catholic Medical Quarterly, which is being made available online. As it happens, the May 2013 issue has an editorial by Alison Davies, a staunch defender of the pro-life cause who died just a couple of days after the Guild meeting. You can read more about Alison Davies over at Fr. Finigan's blog (he gives further links.)

Eccles also has posted an amusing account of the Guild meeting, courtesy of his Anti Moly...

A Seriously Blonde Moment...

Off to lunch this afternoon, I had a bit of trouble getting the car to start.

As I started to drive off, Fr. Finigan asked me why there was a red light flashing on my dashboard. I couldn't remember what the light was for. It wasn't the oil light. It wasn't the water light. The temperature was ok (well, actually the car hadn't had the chance to warm up) but this little red light kept blinking.

A few minutes later, driving along the road, I remembered that the last time it had been on, it was the immobiliser thingy. It used to come on when you pressed the clicky thingy for the whatsit...

My ability to explain myself wasn't helped by the fact that Father was making amused comments about the terms I was using, and the likelihood of finding "clicky thingy" in the index of the car handbook.

Then I noticed that the light went off.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, "Good. It's gone off... Oh! It's come back on again... Ah, it has gone off again... oh, no, it's back... Ah! It's sorted... umm..."

Did I mention that the bulb was blinking...?

Sometimes I worry about me...

(Once he had stopped laughing at me, His Hermeneuticalness did confirm that it had been blinking at slightly erratic intervals, and that I wasn't actually as mad as all that sounds...)

All Animals Are Equal, But...

I've said it before. That Same-Sex Marriage thing was nothing to do with equality.

The case of Mr. & Mrs. Bull, the B&B owners who refused to allow a homosexual couple to share a double bed back in 2008 have lost their appeal in the Supreme Court.

For my transatlantic readers, a B&B isn't quite the same as a hotel or motel. It is usually a private house (often quite small) where some of the bedrooms are rented out. The owners live in the house.

Despite the fact that it was proved that Mr. & Mrs. Bull applied their policy to all unmarried couples equally, the court ruled that the policy constituted illegal discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation.

I don't quite get it - maybe I'm missing something here. A heterosexual unmarried couple could be refused a double bed, but refusing one to a homosexual unmarried couple is discriminatory...

So, one rule for heterosexuals and a completely different one for homosexuals.

And that is meant to be equality?

I suppose that, if the powers-that-be can redefine "marriage" then they can redefine "equality" too...

Mea Culpa...

Having posted a brief reminiscence on my visit to the tomb of St. Peter last year (prompted by the recent exposition of some relics of St. Peter) I decided to have a look back at my posts from my visit to the Eternal City.

I was rather disconcerted to find that I'd only written two posts - one on my first visit to St. Peter's itself and one on my visit to the Venerable English College. I then remembered that I had intended to finish captioning all my photos before actually posting any more, and somewhere along the way I'd forgotten to finish the job. Also some of my photos were locked.

I still have to finish the captions for days four and five of my visit, but I shall try to get that done as soon as possible. Part of the delay is partly because, after a while, the churches started to meld into one another, and I've had to spend a lot of time checking where exactly I went, and what I saw... I meant to check some of it with His Hermeneuticalness, but he's been busy...

I must just recount one of the funniest episodes of the trip.

In Santa Maria sopra Minerva there is the tomb of St. Catherine of Siena. I wanted to go and pray before the tomb (as well as get a good photo) so I walked closer. Now I have problems with both my knees and one of my ankles, but steps up (if not too steep) are actually less of a problem than going down. I didn't actually notice how high the altar was until I finished praying and turned to come back down...

There wasn't a handrail.

Fortunately, I noticed a sort of plinth to the side of the altar - there was a large statue on it and the bottom formed a convenient ledge to lean on as I made my way gingerly down the steps. The statue was a little unstable and rocked slightly, but I wasn't leaning heavily on it.

His Hermeneuticalness was waiting patiently at the bottom, looking slightly amused.

When I reached ground level, he asked in a casual tone, "Mac, you do realise, don't you, that the statue you were just leaning on was carved by Michaelangelo...?"

Once my heart started beating again, I just had to take another photo. It is rather blurred because I couldn't stop giggling...

The Relics Of St. Peter...

The end of the Year of Faith was marked by a Mass where relics of St. Peter were brought out for veneration for the first time since they were unearthed in the 1940s.

The BBC, with typical lack of sensitivity towards the beliefs of billions of Catholics around the world, put up a headline which read "Pope puts 'St Peter's bones' on public display." The quote marks around St. Peter's bones indicate clearly that the author of the piece doesn't agree in their authenticity.

I haven't seen the relics themselves, obviously - they've only just been brought out. I have been down to the tomb - or rather, the chapel where the tomb is. Looking at the maps of the Vatican Grottoes, I see that this is the entrance to the Confessio, and I think that the remains of St. Peter are (or were) behind the grill by the mosaic of Christ. If I'm right (and I'm very bad at following maps, and have a lousy sense of direction), the grill actually backs onto another chapel - the Clementine Chapel - which we didn't go in to because there was a Mass being celebrated at the time. It was a spine-tingling moment being even that close, and I was almost in tears. Fortunately I pulled myself together and got some photos, which you can find on my Flickr set.

Throughout the history of the Church, the location of St. Peter's remains has been said to be under St. Peter's Basilica... underneath the High Altar, to be precise.

When excavations under St. Peter's were carried out, they discovered a tomb below the High Altar with "Peter is here" (or words to that effect).

The Church hasn't been around that long - 2000 years, give or take. 266 Popes - and we know the names of all of them. Something as important as the burial place of the first Pope is likely to have been passed on with great care. So finding remains labelled "Peter" under the High Altar of St. Peter's Basilica shouldn't come as any great surprise.

Of course, no one is obliged to believe that the bones belong to St. Peter...

Patience... Or Just Exhaustion...

Am I the only person rooting for the bird to get splatted with a paw and eaten...?

Ok. Just me then...

Career Opportunities...

I previously admitted my desire to be a womyn priest, but a traddy one, as polyester tie-dye brings me out in hives. Following news that the Church of England has agreed to appoint womyn as byshops, I have come to the realisation that I have been setting my sights too low.

Upon a brief examination of the copy of Fortescue in the sacristy (seventh edition), I discovered many hitherto unexplored opportunities for the expression of traddy sartorial elegance: I think I'd look pretty stunning in a rochet and cappa. I'm not quite sure how I'd cope with putting on the liturgical stockings and shoes at the throne... 

Having gloves, tunicle, dalmatic & chasuble should certainly help to keep me warm (I have constant battles with Blackfen's MC over exactly how many bars of heater should be switched on) and the crozier will make a handy place to hang my handbag. The deacon and subdeacon pinning on the pallium might be a little bit tricky - I am generously proportioned - but I'm sure I can figure something out...

On second thoughts, after having a look at this lot (courtesy of the very-saved Eccles), perhaps being a womyn byshop isn't all it's cracked up to be...

Learning To Serve...

As I have mentioned before, Jonathan, the Senior MC at Blackfen, likes to get the boys serving at Mass and other events as quickly as possible, and doesn't hesitate to get them doing different jobs.

A favourite job is that of thurifer - something to do with setting fire to charcoal, I think.

Anyway, two of our newest recruits to the serving team have each shown up on Thursday evenings for Rosary & Benediction. The job of MC is a little too ambitious for them both at the moment - Jonathan will probably give it a week or two - and it was very sweet to see thurifers who were almost the same size as the thurible chain...

You can see a few more photos over on Flickr...

A Photo Opportunity...

At the beginning of the month I attended a meeting of The Keys at St. Mary Moorfield's. Bishop Philip Egan was the speaker, talking about evangelisation in a secular culture. It was an excellent talk, and a wonderful evening, though I was disappointed not to be able to get a good photo of Bishop Egan as he had to leave early to catch a train.

However, I did manage to get this photo of Mgr. Keith Newton of the Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham together with Fr. Finigan...

After the talk, Mgr. Newton chatted to me about my patron saint, St. Anne Line, about whom I had written for a chapter in English Catholic Heroines (my claim to being a "proper" writer!) - it transpires that Mgr. Newton knew the church dedicated to St. Anne in South Woodford as this was his old stamping ground, and it was a real treat to be able to swap stories with him.

I've Been Preoccupied Of Late...

Furretti was giving me cause for concern earlier this week.

I noticed that she appeared to have lost weight - it's difficult to tell just by looking at her, as she is very fluffy, but it seemed to me that she was rather thinner than usual: I thought her pelvic bones were more noticeable when I stroked her, and her vertebrae were rather more pronounced. Furretti didn't seem to be comfortable - she was holding herself rather carefully rather than just curling up on my pillow, and, most worryingly, she didn't purr when I made a fuss of her. She had a scab on her neck (though she wasn't too keen on my examining it) but no other obvious injuries, and was off her food.

When I arrived home on Monday evening, I noted with some concern that she was out (and her food was uneaten) - this was worrying because it had been pouring with rain all afternoon, and Furretti normally loathes getting wet. I wandered around outside, calling her name, and questioning my next-door neighbour. To my consternation, I saw that a fox was lurking near the catflap, and did my best to scare it off - after which Furretti made an appearance.

As luck would have it, I had lent my cat carrier to a friend and had forgotten to retrieve it at the weekend. Fortunately another neighbour had a carrier to lend to me. I then drove over to the vet's surgery, with Furretti yowling all the way.

The vet was very nice, assuring me that it was better to come in earlier rather than later. A thorough examination of the cat was carried out, including a check of her temperature. Furretti does not have a bio-chip, and so her temperature had to be assessed in the traditional manner - a procedure which ruffled her dignity somewhat. Never have I seen a cat look so affronted.

The verdict was then given: Furretti was perfectly healthy, in the vet's professional opinion, but she would be happy to carry out a blood test just to put my mind at rest. Heartless mercenary beast that I am, I made enquiries as to the cost of such blood tests. On hearing that it was in the region of £70 or so - in addition to the consultation fee - I declared myself perfectly content with the professional opinion of the vet. Indeed, Furretti had perked up quite a bit, and seemed keen to leave the surgery...

It was decided that I would monitor her for a few days, and return for a blood test if she didn't show any improvement.

I am delighted to report that Furretti has made a complete recovery...

Female Cardinals...

The Irish Times claimed that Pope Francis might appoint a female Cardinal or two at the next Consistory. They are a little behind the times - the first female Cardinal was actually appointed at an emergency Catsistory, once it became clear that England & Wales didn't have a Cardinal of voting age. Unfortunately for Archbishop Nichols, the recipient of the red hat was none other than Cardinal Mastai-Furretti (to give her her full name)...

Now that a new Consistory has been announced for February, Monsignor Guido Miaowrini is hopeful for an upgrade... and it would double the number of female Cardinals, so everyone (except Archbishop Nichols) would be happy...

After all, if people are silly enough to think women can be Cardinals, why not cats?

Photo-Fest...

It has been a busy end to the half term holiday, but I've been good, and have managed to upload various photos to Flickr before the madness of term time descends once more. This was a more onerous task than one might think, as, for some reason, I had to load the photos in batches of six or seven photos to avoid the uploader crashing in a sulking fit.

I started playing about with my phone settings (after Mass, I hasten to add!), and managed to produce the photo on the left (from the Mass for All Souls) - and think I might try to experiment a little more with sepia tones and black & white photos.

Anyway, I have different sets up on Flickr for general perusal. There were the photos from Halloween (well, ok, First Vespers of All Saints), then the photos from the Missa Cantata celebrated on the Feast of All Saints. Yesterday we had Blackfen's monthly First Saturday Missa Cantata which, fortuitously, was the Commemoration of All Souls. And today was the annual Prayers for the Dead at the local cemetery, along with the blessing of graves.

Do go along and have a look...

A Blognic...

Yippee! I was just thinking that we were well-overdue for a blognic. The next meeting of the Guild of Blessed Titus Brandsma is on Saturday 30th November at Our Lady of the Rosary, Blackfen. It's open to anyone who uses the new media - so that means people who comment on and read blogs, as well as bloggers, twitterers and Facebookers.