February

February, the shortest month of the calendar year, was added (along with January) to the old Roman calendar by King Numa Pompilius around 713 BC, ending the anomaly of treating winter as some sort of month-free interlude. When the order of the months was altered to make January the first month, February then became the second. It seems to have taken its name from Februa, a Roman festival of washing and purification held during it. 

The Julian Calendar standardized the practice of Leap Year, originally inserting an extra day between February 23 and 24 (technically doubling February 24, the sixth day before the Kalends of March, which is why in Latin a Leap Year is called an annus bissextile). But, since 2018 is not a Leap Year anyway, something we will not have to face again until 2020. that is enough said about that topic!

Growing up, I loved February. In the then operative school calendar, it usually marked the beginning of the second term of the school year. And it included at least two school holidays – Lincoln’s Birthday (February 12) and Washington’s Birthday (February 22). It also included Saint Valentine’s Day, a romantic occasion, the observance of which seems silly outside of a genuinely romantic context, but which nonetheless we invariably celebrated with "valentines" and parties at school.

Liturgically, one of February's most important dates is, of course, Candlemas on February 2 – the 40th Day of Christmas - which simultaneously looks back at Christmas and forward to Lent and Easter. Although we were certainly made aware of it in school, Candlemas had no noticeable impact on our lives. Unlike the practice in Catholic countries where the Christmas Crib routinely remains on display until February 2, common American practice has long been to dispose of Christmas much earlier. But, if Candlemas made little impact even in 1950s parochial school life, the following day was much more fun, for it was when we got out threats blessed, a beautiful sacramental which has thankfully survived the slings and arrows of post-modern fortune.

Then, sometimes in March but more often in February, comes Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, which falls right in the middle of the month this year – on Valentine’s Day. Lent may or may not make much of an impact on most people today, but Ash Wednesday seems as popular as ever, maybe more so.

Valentine’s Day has become big business. But of greater commercial and social significance nowadays may be that great holiday of our capitalist entertainment culture, Super Bowl Sunday (which used to be in January but has since migrated to February). Its observance this year on February 4 will undoubtedly dominate the media, with or without the more recent innovation of a presidential interview. 

(Photo: February from the famous Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, an early 15th-century prayer book, which is generally considered perhaps the best surviving example of medieval French Gothic manuscript illumination)

The State of the Union

The Constitution directs that the president “from time to time give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such Measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.” There is no requirement that he do so in person, but for over a century now our presidents have routinely done so. It is one of the presidency's more monarchical rituals - and hence one which most presidents delight in. President Trump, delivering his first State of the Union, would seem to be no exception.

George Washington started the tradition, undoubtedly attracted to its monarchical resonance as a way to invest his office - and by extension his infant country - with some semblance of seriousness and dignity. Offended by its transparently monarchical resonance, however, Thomas Jefferson then abandoned the practice. It remained abandoned until Woodrow Wilson, who undoubtedly fancied himself as some sort of crypto-monarch happily restored it. However, in comparison with Throne Speeches at the Opening of Parliament in modern European monarchies, the State of the Union is at best a modestly successful imitation. Meanwhile our civic dignity has eroded and become increasingly corrupted, while the presidency has evolved into a Napoleonic, imperial institution almost without parallel. The result is an event that, while it aspires to suggest lofty dignity and civic sensibility, has turned into a vulgar celebration of the depths to which our civic culture and political institutions have descended, as rival camps of politicians jump up and down on cue (or sit still) to be seen by their "base" to make their point.

It was President Ronald Reagan who 1982 started the strange custom of calling attention to guests in the balcony, when he praised a hero from a recent Potomac River plane crash. This stunt has now become standard State of the Union fare, as if the President's Annual Message were a politicized version of the old Ed Sullivan Show. (In that Sunday evening variety show from TV's early years, host Ed Sullivan routinely invited prominent people in his audience to stand up and be recognized.) It could, of course, be argued that this custom has added a "populist" component to an otherwise elitist event - recognizing and invoking the example of heroic or otherwise worthy ordinary citizens. Whatever one thinks of this practice, however, President Trump seemed to take it to a new level. There were so many balcony appearances that the speech itself seemed almost secondary interludes between the balcony appearances - one reason it was one of the longest State of the Union speeches ever (longest not in words but in length of time).. On the other hand, focusing on so many people in the balcony lessened the focus on the President himself, not necessariiy what one would have been expecting.

The speech lacked the flamboyance of much of Trump's campaign oratory. In this it was more like his last address to Congress, and in this era of lowered expectations may have come across as "presidential." Even so, it seems striking how even the President's calmer, more measured language still expresses what I suspect is his authentic view  - a depressingly grim, fearful conception of American life and of the world beyond. That frightened - and frightening - world view is a key component of the President's destructive hostility to immigrants and almost anyone who seems in some way different from the ethnic composition of his narrow "base."

In the nature of the case, a televised State of the Union is an appeal over the heads of the political elite to a larger national audience. Its impact on the latter is what may matter most and in turn influence the politicians robotically jumping up and down inside the House Chamber. It remains to be seen what actual effective congressional actions will result from this sorry spectacle.

Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day

The last Monday in January is - believe it or not - Bubble Wrap Appreciation Day! The story is that, when some radio station in Bloomington, Indiana, received a shipment of microphones wrapped in bubble wrap, the sound of the wrapping being "popped" (something some people really enjoy doing with Bubble Wrap) was inadvertently broadcast. The story certainly seems silly enough to be true - silly enough too to create a special day to commemorate it!

Bubble Wrap the trademarked name of the plastic material widely used for wrapping and packing fragile items, its characteristic air-filled bubbles creating a cushioning  effect. Apparently its inventors had other uses in mind but discovered its superior virtues as a wrapping and packing material. But, because the bubbles make a nice popping sound when squeezed and broken, it has since found additional uses used as a plaything - and stress reliever. Supposedly, Sealed Air (the company that owns the trademark) may be making an alternative wrap that does not pop. Why? Why take the fun out of unwrapping packages?

Certainly Bubble Wrap  is good at what it does. And, if it adds a little amusement to our ordinary lives by being popped, so be it. No harm done! But really what more is there to say? What more does anyone need to say? What more should anyone want to say? 

Companions and Co-Workers

Friendship, Aristotle famously said, is one of those things without which life would be unbearable. That is no less true in religious life than anywhere else. So it is fitting that today the Church commemorates two of Saint Paul's close friends - his companions and co-workers Saints Timothy and Titus.

Timothy was of mixed Gentile and Jewish parentage, which explains why he was not circumcised at birth and why Paul later did so in order to make him acceptable to Jews who would have known of his mother’s Jewishness. Both Timothy’s mother Eunice and his grandmother Lois were respected members of the Christian community in Lystra by the time Timothy became Paul’s assistant. (Photo: Rembrandt, 1648, Timothy and his Grandmother Lois)

The first reading at today’s Mass (2 Timothy 1:1-8) reflects Paul’s feelings for Timothy and his family: I remember you constantly in my prayers, night and day. I yearn to see you again, recalling your tears, so that I may be filled with joy, as I recall your sincere faith that first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and that I am confident lives also in you. Timothy is mentioned several times, both in Acts and in Paul’s Epistles. Famously, Timothy had some sort of stomach problem, for which Paul advised him to switch from drinking water to drinking wine (1 Timothy 5:23). According to tradition, Paul put Timothy in charge of the Church in Ephesus.

Unlike Timothy, Titus was unambiguously a Gentile, a Greek probably from Antioch, which was why he remained uncircumcised as a Christian. Having been converted by Paul, he served as Paul's assistant and accompanied Paul to the famous Council of Jerusalem. According to tradition, he became Bishop in Crete.

In this hyper-individualistic culture, in which stardom and celebrity seem capable of corrupting and impoverishing almost everything, the genuinely human friendships which Paul enjoyed with his colleagues in ministry may be a useful model for all of us to recall, both for our personal benefit and as a corrective to the individualistic imperatives that seem to surround us.

The pre-conciliar Roman Calendar assigned Saint Timothy to January 24 and Titus to February 6. The Pauline revision combined their feasts into one and assigned them to the day following the Conversion of Saint Paul, January 25. That date too is somewhat arbitrary, of course,. Most likely January 25, then the Octave of Saint Peter's Chair at Rome, was originally celebrated as a feast of the Translation of Saint Paul's Relics. Eventually, it evolved into a commemoration of his conversion.

Interestingly, Pius XII's Pontifical Commission for the Reform of the Sacred Liturgy, which paved the way for the pre- and post-conciliar liturgical reforms, discussed abolishing the feast of the Conversion of Saint Paul in 1954. Although the post-conciliar revision did some really radical  surgery on the calendar, boldly abolishing things no one had ever expected it to abolish (e.g., Septuagesima, Ember Days, the Octave of Pentecost), somehow the Conversion of Saint Paul survived! Hence today's commemoration of his friends.

Awesome

Awesome (in its authentic - not its frivolously contemporary - meaning) is the right word to describe the interior of our new soon-to-be-dedicated diocesan cathedral, which I and some others took a tour of today - awesome as in the traditional Introit of of the Mass for the Dedication of a Church (cf.Genesis 28:17): Terribilis est locus iste; hic domus Dei est, et porta caeli; et vocabitur aula Dei. ("Awesome is this place; this is the house of God, and the gate of heaven, and it will be called the hall of God." 













In an era when so many public buildings - including far too many contemporary churches – are better known for their banality and ugliness than for their beauty and dignity, it is a true joy to experience Knoxville’s glorious new cathedral, designed and built so as to leave no doubt as to its purpose and the solemnity and importance of what takes place inside it.














This is immediately apparent when one first looks down the nave from the narthex (the liturgical "west") to the sanctuary, or when one looks up from the sanctuary at the dome, or when one looks again down the nave to the sanctuary but this time from up in the choir loft, or when one stands in the sanctuary and admires the Tabernacle beautifully set in the apse (the liturgical "east."). The bishop's cathedra is located in its traditional location on the "gospel" side (the liturgical "north"), while the pulpit faces out into the nave from its traditional (for cathedrals) location on the "epistle" side. Naturally I was eager to try it out!

Leaving this glorious new temple of the Lord, I was reminded of these words of the great Saint Augustine (354-430), if our minds be faithful and attentive, and our lives just and holy, all that is done in temples made with hands will be fulfilled in a spiritual building also within us (Sermon 252).