You don't know what you've got 'till it's gone.

Home educators in France are waking up to the reality that their educational choice is about to be legislated out of existence by the French Senate. This is the latest in a raft of anti-family measures by the Hollande government, which has also added traditionalist pro-family group Civitas to groups to be monitored for “religious pathology” by the newly minted “National Observatory of Secularism” created by Interior Minister Manuel Valls  to promote France’s secularist policy and what it deems to be 'public morality' in schools.  

It shouldn't be surprising that home education is under threat in France. Vincent Peillon, current National Minister of Education is on YouTube saying that democracy is not possible where the Catholic Church is present and that the Church must be destroyed as part of an ongoing “revolution”. Pro-family groups in France are finding the legislative ground shifting, but  have become well organised: the wonderful pro-(natural)-family “Manif Pour Tous” movement has spread beyond France to Spain, Italy and Ireland. We need it in Britain as well.

British home educators watch France with increasing unease. We have a few things in our favour – for the moment at least. The first is that home educating in the UK is not a predominantly religious phenomenon. The vast majority do so for loosely philosophical  reasons: most are found somewhere on the hippie-ish spectrum – from yurt dwelling alternative lifestylers to slightly mad Oxbridge academic families, they are all people who have thought outside the box and often place great value on family and children. For Catholic home educators this is positive: religion can't be pinpointed so easily as a reason to crack down on home ed. Britain also has a legacy of civil liberties,  from which stems a residual  tolerance of home education  compared to other European countries. The strong home education communitiessthat have resulted mean  home educated children have access to wide and varied social networks. This is significant as the French legislation specifically mentions "voluntary de-socialization, destined to submit the child, who is particularly vulnerable, to a psychic, ideological or religious conditioning" as the reason for banning out-of-school learning.

In Britain the current government is taking a laissez-faire attitude towards home education. If it's working – and the research shows that it is – why change it?  However only a few years ago,  in his role as Secretary of State for Children Schools and Families, Ed Balls did his best to crush home education, commissioning a report on electively home educated children. When the initial report recommended no changes to the existing situation Balls commissioned a second report followed by a select committee. Backbencher Barry Sheerman, (who as Chairman of the parliamentary cross-party committee on children, schools and families under the last government  asserted that “faith education works all right as long as people are not that serious about their faith. But ...it does become worrying when you get … more fundamentalist bishops”) has been asking leading questions about Home Education and making cryptic comments on Twitter. The message is clear: home education is in our sights and we won't be happy until it's gone.

Should this matter to the majority of parents who do not home educate? ABSOLUTELY. Why? 
Because Home Education as a litmus test of the relationship between the family and the state. Where the state accepts home education the state is accepting the family as the natural and safe environment for a child to learn. By contrast, state prohibition of home education is symptom of a state’s broader ideological position: suspicious of the family, wary of religious or ideological “indoctrination” , and insisting that professionals are better equipped than parents to guide children's academic and moral growth. 

A government that does not respect the right of a family to determine their children's educational path will never respect the rights of the parent to be the primary influence on their child. When the next round of state-led threats to home education kicks-off, pay attention: it’s not just about home education.

A version of this article appeared in Catholic Family Round-up in April 2014

Liberté, Fraternité, Egalité? Non! Police brutality, false arrest,and persecution as the French state makes a mockery of democracy...

... if you're a supporter of traditional Marriage, that is. Although initially it was primarily the traditionalist Catholic demonstrators who were targeted by police for rough handling, since the passing of the Loi Taubira all demonstrators - the elderly and children as well as the young - have been subjected to brutal, unjust and illegal attention from the police. As the video (with English subtitles) below shows, unruly behaviour verging on riots after a PSG (Paris Saint Germain) football match was virtually ignored, whilst peaceful sit-down pro-family protesters have been beaten, kettled and arrested.

 

Nicolas Bernard-Buss, 23, a student in Paris was arrested 16th June on the Champs Elysées after a demonstration. Vatican Insider reports:

"Nicolas Bernard Busse, 23, was put on trial immediately, sentenced to four months in prison and given a €1000 fine for rebellion and resisting arrest, French newspapers report. The student had taken part in a recent demonstration against same-sex marriage outside the studios of the M6 TV station, where President François Hollande was appearing in a broadcast. He then went to the Champs-Élysées in central Paris with some friends. All of them were wearing T-shirts with the acronym “Manif pour tous” and the logo of a father and mother with their two children. Six policemen caught up with them but Nicolas refused to follow them and instead went and hid in a restaurant, where he was subsequently caught and arrested"

He was charged with "rebellion" and sentenced to four months in prison with a minimum of two months incarceration to be served. He was placed in solitary confinement, allegedly for his own safety, with only his lawyer allowed to visit him. There are a dozen locked doors between his cell and the communal prison areas and his meals (along with hundreds of letters) are delivered through a hatch. These are unusually harsh conditions and the sentence itself exceeds both the letter and spirit of French law: Nicolas was not accused of any criminal action: his "offence" was to be present (and an organiser of) an anti-gay marriage vigil. See RTL news for mainstream coverage of this story.

Many thanks to John Smeaton for highlighting Nicolas' case and for providing contact information for the French Embassy. May I strongly encourage all readers to write to the French Ambassador in their country and protest Nicolas Bernard-Buss' unlawful incarceration in the strongest (polite) terms. Details for the French Embassy in London are below:

His Excellency Bernard Emié
Ambassador
French Embassy in the United Kingdom
58 Knightsbridge
London
SW1X 7JT
Tel: 020 7073 1000
Email: presse.londres-amba@diplomatie.gouv.fr

Dome of Home: Beacon of Hope

1046 people were counted into the Shrine Church of Saints Peter, Paul and Philomena this morning for a very special Mass (Solemnity of the Annunciation of the BVM) to mark the establishment of the shrine which has been entrusted by His Lordship, Bishop Mark Davies of Shrewsbury to the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest. The church was packed to the rafters - standing room only. The vast majority of people were local, many unfamiliar with the Extraordinary Form of the Latin Rite, but reading faces and overhearing conversations afterwards, it was clear that the response was overwhelmingly positive.

There's a lot I'd like to write about the day, which takes the brick-by-brick Hermeneutic of Continuity restoration of tradition to a new level in England. I saw many eyes rimmed with tears after the Mass. An elderly man next to me was almost speechless with joy: he said he'd not seen anything remotely close to a Mass this "powerful and holy" since his youth. He felt that this was the beginning of something new.

I was delighted to meet Canon Meney, the Rector of the Shrine, as well as Monsignor Wach who founded the Institute. Both know our ICKSP contacts and friends in the South of France, so it felt a little like a homecoming. I was pleased to be able to thank Msgr Wach for the work done by the Institute: it is a truly blessed foundation. In return, we were invited to join the ICKSP at their headquarters in Italy for a holiday! I think we'd better start saving or I won't hear the end of it from my eldest son... We also met several religious sisters from the Adorers of the Royal Heart of Jesus some of whom had come over from Switzerland, others from Italy, especially for the Mass. It's wonderful to see so many young vocations. I'm always struck by how happy young religious are, and these women were no exception. The children - particularly the girls - enjoyed meeting them and they are such wonderful role models. I'm particularly grateful to them for offering to pray for us during our long drive home.

The reception afterwards was extremely busy but we were determined to squeeze every wonderful second out of the day and so we stayed and met old friends and new. I was especially pleased to bump into Charlie Chasuble and meet his lovely family; what with Father Simon Henry there, it was a bit like an impromptu blognic.  

It was a long day: we left our house at 4:30 am and drove for almost 6 hours to get the the Shrine.  It didn't matter what the journey threw at us (roadworks, fog, bad traffic, the van's transmission temporarily packing in on the M6) we were clearly meant to get there. We had no sat-nav with us and almost ended up taking the tunnel to Liverpool, but were saved at the last minute by a friendly tollbooth operator who showed us a sneaky way out. Even then we had no clue where we were - it was 10:15am and the Mass started at 10:30 - "pray kids, pray" I shouted as I drove with more hope than certainty. We rounded a corner and there, above us, only moments away was the "Dome of Home".  We arrived with 10 minutes to spare and   - Deo gratias - a kind steward let us park behind the church, so we were on time!  It took over five hours to get home, which makes 11+ hours driving. Was it worth it? Would we do it again? Absolutely. Next time we'll stay a little longer though...

The "Dome of Home" becomes, in Canon Meney's words a "beacon of hope"

The Reverend Canon William Hudson (left in black) translates the welcome address from Monsignor Wach (in blue)

The Most Reverend Bishop Mark Davies of Shrewbury vests at the beginning of Mass 

Spot the blogging priest.

Reverend Canon William Hudson, Pro-Provincial for England reads part of the Apostolic Blessing

Our favourite Bishop!

Men of the moment: His Lordship, Bishop Davies, Msgr Wash and Canon Meney 

 

Bishop Davies cuts the cake!

 

See Father Simon Henry's blog for a detailed description of the Mass and subsequent festivities as well as some wonderful photographs that capture some of the spirit of the day.

Ban on "street prayer" fuels attack on pro-lifers

Photo Anne Kerjean

A French commentator has claimed that the recent French ban on "street prayer" was a critical factor last Saturday's attack on a peaceful pro-life protest in Paris. More than 200 pro-abortion militants from the Partie de Gauche attacked a small group of pro-life advocates who were protesting peacefully and legally outside a hospital that has recently resumed performing abortions (see the full story here). The pro-lifers, from SOS Tout-petits had to be protected by police who were forced to charge to leftist militants on two occasions in order to protect the group of seven pro-lifers praying the Rosary. The militants mocked the pro-life protesters, shouted blasphemous slogans, insulted the Blessed Virgin Mary and slandered the Catholic Church. They physically and verbally attacked protesters on several occasions; "it was pure hatred" said a witness. 


Eyewitness and photographer Anne Kerjean, writing on Nephtar et Nephtali, points out that the leftists have never before taken the risk of mounting a counter-demonstration until the ban on street prayers came into force. This view is supported by the call to action on the Partie de Gauche website which refers to SOS-Tout-petits as "Catholic fundamentalists" and, with reference to the proposed Rosary protest, declares that "the Partie Gauche reminds you that religion has no right to interfere in our secular republic and denounces the fundamentalists who attack women's rights."   Anne Kerjean writes that within a day of the ban on street prayer legislation, the Partie Gauche "demonstrated their cowardice by physically and verbally attacking a small group of men and women who were, thankfully, well protected by numerous policemen". 


She had intended to join the protest, but lost her way and, arriving late, was bewildered to find a large and belligerently aggressive crowd shouting pro-abortion and anti-Catholic slogans where she had expected to find a small, quiet group praying the rosary. Blending into the crowd she took photos, trying get a record of this unexpected event. As she came through the crowd she spotted a line of police officers in riot gear and realised that behind them were seven pro-lifers, quietly praying the Rosary. they looked frightened, and she exchanged glances and smiles of recognition with them. Unfortunately this gave her away as one of the "enemy" and she found herself physically attacked by leftists demanding that she give them her camera; she reports that she was grabbed, pushed and hit, and had several people trying to take her camera and backpack from her while screaming abuse. The police intervened and put her in the "safe zone" with the pro-life protesters; she was later escorted to safety alone by the police.She has put her photos of the event online, and has subsequently been inundated by abuse and threats from members of the Partie Gauche.


Another witness, Jean Vincent at Lesalonbeige, reports that there was originally a larger group of pro-life protesters but that they were split up by aggressive action by the Partie Gauche, leaving the group of seven "stranded" against the hospital railings - cornered (which is why they needed police protection). This second group were (deliberately) prevented from joining the rest of the pro-life group by the Partie Gauche extremists, but  managed were to pray the rosary unimpeded until the 4th decade when they were pelted with eggs by the pro-abortion group which then attacked them from two sides. The police were confused by the tactic, and the protesters were outnumbered more than 5 to 1. The priest who was leading the Rosary and several others were assaulted, thrown to the ground and beaten.
"It is one thing to disagree" writes Jean Vincent, "but to attack peaceful people, praying the Rosary, with a ratio of five to one is shameful". 


Anne Kerjean notes that the groups that had a "call to action" against the Rosary protest included Alternative libertaire, Les marxistes révolutionnaires, Le parti de gauche, L'Union Syndicale Solidaire, Le front de gauche, and Les anarchistes de Montreuil -- or as she puts it wryly "...feminists, transexuals, homosexuals ... and not there for a Techno-Parade -- they were all there for us!"


We saw extraordinary pictures recently from Madrid of warped protesters verbally attacking children praying in the public arena; last Saturday in Paris it seems that the public recitation of the Rosary was as much a motivator to the pro-abortion rainbow coalition as anything else. I've not commented until now on the French law banning street prayer because I've not been sure how I've felt about it. on one hand I sympathise with those who do not want roads provocatively taken over by Muslims on Friday afternoons: this is the supposed motivation behind the legislation. On the other hand, Christine at Laudem Gloriae makes the apt point that the new law could be just as easily applied to a Eucharistic procession or the Paris-Chartres pilgrimage. I think that it's essential that prayer remains in the public sphere, that prayer doesn't become something invisible, something that only happens behind closed doors between consenting adults. So what can we, the average pewsitter, do about this?  Here are a few ideas: say grace when you're out in public. No, it isn't rude or weird or antisocial. Nobody bats an eyelid when people raise a glass of wine in a toast; how much more important is making the sign of the cross, saying grace, and then making the sign of the cross again?! Over the years our family has grown in boldness with this: we used to only say grace if we were in a semi-public space -- having a picnic for example. Then we started saying it in restaurants, and now we say it everywhere. Nobody has ever taken offense -- if we're in a home where grace isn't said, we'll say "we usually say grace at home before a meal, do you mind if we do the same here?" Nobody has ever minded. My husband and I say grace before our meal when we eat out together; we don't flaunt it, but nor do we hide it. We just say it.  OK, perhaps somebody somewhere will think we're a bit odd, but more importantly it's a witness to our Faith, to Our Lord, and is a small sacrifice to make for all the good things that we've been given. 


I was recently at the Treasures of Heaven exhibition at the British Museum with a small group of families on a tour led by a priest. As there are many relics, including more than one relic of the True Cross, we were reminded that these are objects worthy of veneration, not simply "exhibits". Accordingly the priest led us all in adoration of the relic of the True Cross. It was humbling and powerful to kneel and pray in that secular space. I suspect that some people viewing the exhibition might have been a little taken aback, but I'd be surprised if anyone had been offended. I don't know if I would have had the courage to do that if I'd been at the exhibition on my own, but I felt that kneeling and praying before a relic of the cross on which Our Lord suffered and died provided both a powerful witness whilst buttressing  my faith. 


Public prayer can be awkward whether you're used to it or not. Human beings have a natural fear of ridicule, of looking silly, of contempt by our fellow humans. But here's a thought to bolster your courage: look at the photo at the top of this page. Next time you feel sheepish about saying grace in Starbucks or Pizza Express, just think about the seven frail elderly people praying the Rosary surrounded by a violent and baying mob. A few funny looks isn't much to put up with really, is it?

Q. When is a good Catholic school not a Catholic school?

Catholic education: back to the future?

Photo credit: Foxtongue on Flickr

A. When it wants to remain faithful to the Magesterium.

...or at least so I'm told. A friend in France recently told me about a wonderful Catholic school: the headmaster is a Catholic priest, the majority of the teachers are also Catholic priests and the remainder are faithful lay-persons. ALL of the students are Catholic. The Faith imbues every aspect of the children's education, and they learn the catechism, history and laws of the Church in the most traditional way.

This is unusual in France where diocesan Catholic schools have teachers' salaries paid by the state, but have a contribution made by the diocese (and often by parents as well) and the buildings are owned by the Church. Despite being largely state funded, these are often called "private". Parental contribution aside, this sounds remarkably similar to what we call "grant maintained" here. Ah yes, and the diocesan schools have the same problems as our grant-maintained schools here in the UK: the government dictates curriculum and admissions. In France, I've been told, state funded schools are not allowed to discriminate on the grounds of religion for admissions, so "Catholic" schools can end up in the ludicrous position of having few if any Catholic students. Sound familiar?

Another problem is meddling from the educational teams within the diocese. Schools are persuaded to follow government guidelines, implement politically correct agendas, and downplay the aspects of the Faith less palatable to the liberal intelligentsia (or "Marxists" as my correspondent grimly calls them).

So how has the school in question avoided all of these pitfalls and managed to remain a truly Catholic school for Catholic children? Simple. Technically it isn't a Catholic school. By not calling itself a Catholic school, it has no obligation  to have any administrative relationship with the diocese. By not taking any money from the state it has no obligation to teach any particular curriculum. Parents pay a small amount every month (subsidised where necessary) and benefactors make up the rest. The total annual cost for each student is less than the monthly fees for a cheap independent school in the South East of England. The school is run on a shoe-string but provides a first-class classical education and a sound Catholic foundation at both primary and secondary levels. What's not to like?

I think there's a lesson to be learned, and in the UK's current political climate we may have an advantage here over our Gallic cousins: the government's extended Academies programme promises state-funded schools the kind of autonomy that independent schools currently have in terms of curriculum and admissions. Why not create a truly independent, traditional, rigorously Catholic school -- just keep the word "Catholic" out of the name to maintain its independence. Failing that, perhaps it's time to ignore the ludicrous UK "market rate" for independent education, and see what is feasible with the financial input of Catholic philanthropists of both large and ordinary means.

Vaughan parents take heart - there must be another way!

Bastille Day: not a lot to celebrate

A priest friend of ours in France says that he thinks the root of all that is wrong with his country lies in the French Revolution. Apart from a few years of respite during the first restoration, the country has gone - almost literally - to Hell in a handbasket since then. 

Being an ornery sort, I had to disagree. I felt that things had started going awry a couple of hundred years earlier with the wars of Religion and the various Protestant uprisings, but that the '89 Revolution had cemented the damage. Either way, France has ended up a viciously secular country with a deeply ingrained anti-clericism that I imagine Richard Dawkins and his ilk can only envy.

There's a  forceful and thought provoking passage from Joseph de Maistre on the French Revolution ("essentially Satanic...") worth reading at Rorate Caeli, and Richard Collins at Linen On The Hedgerow remembers the many Catholics martyred during the French Revolution, particularly those from the Vendee. Today I thought of our local martyr Charles François de Saint Simon Sandricourt,the last Bishop of Agde and one of the last victims of The Terror, guillotined in Paris on July 26, 1794 as well as the 17 Carmelite nuns who went to the guilletine singing the Veni Creator Spiritus. 

Too Modern to Mantilla

One of the things that surprised me about attending Mass in the Extraordinary Form in France was that even in a busy church, not a single mantilla was to be seen, and I was planning on asking our priest (or Monsieur le Chanoine as he is known) about this at lunch a couple of days before we came back to the UK. 


As it happened, I didn't need to bring it up: he did. He was very happy, he said, to see me and the girls wearing our mantillas, and (gulp!) had apparently spoken about this in his sermon the Sunday we were away from his parish playing Cathedral dodge. He hoped that seeing ours might have encourage some of his French parishioners to consider wearing a mantilla. 


But why don't women wear them? I asked. Is there an association with la voile intégrale as the (banned) Islamic niquab is called? Not at all, he replied. French women simply don't like the idea of wearing a mantilla because they (French women) are modern.


Huh?


He continued: there is an idea that being modern is good. That the mantilla is not modern. Therefore French women don't wear the mantilla.


Hang on, I protested. We're not talking about the average French woman in the queue at the boulangerie here. We're talking about women who attend the Extraordinary Form of the Mass. Who are faithful to the Magisterium. Who are open to the gift of life and have large families. Who home-educate. Who nurture vocations. I've met these women. They're sound. Surely these women are not held back from wearing a mantilla simply because it's seen as being "unmodern".  


But his response was that apparently they are. Modernism has crept into all corners of the French church: this would explain why the EF Mass in France was a bit of a mélange - a dialogue Mass with more standing and less kneeling than I'm used to. And the tension between being a Traditional Catholic and a Modern French woman, means that, at the moment, the mantilla loses out. 


I know the whole subject is controversial -- Fr. Z's poll earlier this year showed as much. But to not see even one mantilla in a busy Traditional parish is, I think, very odd. I feel that the mantilla is part of our identity as traditional Catholic women, and to not even have it on your radar as an option feels wrong. It is, apparently, worn by all women in the SSPX Masses in France, but this hasn't helped its reputation within the EF community as it's linked with stories - whether apocryphal or not - of women at SSPX Masses being refused Holy Communion because they were wearing trousers / a skirt that was too short / no mantilla.  


That was the end of that part of the conversation and we moved onto other matters (and dessert), except to say that I suggested having a few mantillas available for purchase within the parish: supply may dictate demand. Stranger things have happened. 


(***Ok, ok so "mantilla" isn't a verb. Perhaps it should be. Repeat after me: I mantilla, you mantilla, she mantillas, they mantilla, we mantilla...)

Traditional catechism for children in Paris

Emmanuel Delhoume's blog laments the lack of availability of traditional Catholic catechesis for children and families in France (I think we can concur that the situation is little or no better in the UK) despite there being both a need and a desire for traditional catechetics to be taught at a parish level. His blog announces the start of a new initiative aimed particularly at families in East Paris (12ieme, 13ieme, and 20ieme Arr.) offering fortnightly catechism lessons with a priest from Ecclesia Dei, specifically seeking to prepare children to receive sacraments in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite. As M. Delhoume says "It is our duty as Catholic parents to prepare our children thoroughly for the sacraments and instruct them in the Truths of the Faith". Amen to that!

Please pass on to friends and family in Paris. Interested families can contact Emmanuel Delhoume on 06 67  28 33 38 or edelhoume@voila.fr

Interestingly, one French commentator on this new initiative notes that if Summorum Pontificum is to be implemented fully in parishes, it should go beyond simply offering Sunday Mass in the E.F. but also include a thorough traditional preparation for the Sacraments. I would add that sessions on traditional catechesis and the Truths of the Faith would also be invaluable for adults of my generation, many of whom - myself included - received no real formation in the Faith as children either at school, in our parishs or at home. 

Corpus Christi

Today we'll be celebrating the Feast of Corpus Christi at Église Saint-André in the market square in Agde. The church has been in use since the 5th century, but is currently only open once a week for Mass on Thursday mornings (market day). Kneeling on stones that have been trodden and knelt on by more than 1500 years of worshippers is a humbling experience. Église Saint-André was also the venue for the Council of Agde 506AD, at which the 24 Bishops who attended confirmed the Sunday obligation as well as the the practise of tonsure which remained current until Pope Paul VI's reform of minor orders in 1972.

There is a strange cut-out and glass-railed section of the church floor to one side, permanently exposing several layers of archaeological exploration including two stone sarcophagi dating from the fifth century. There are also exposed bones dating from the same period in an alcove (not visible in the photo above). I haven't had a chance to ask our parish priest what the church's take on this is -- they won't have had a lot of choice in whether or not the renovations took place as the church building is owned by the state, and while it is a little strange to be praying mere feet away from the exposed bones of long dead fellow-parishioners, I like to think that they may be joining in with those praying so close to their mortal remains.

Happy Feast Day!

French martyrs

credit: Faithweb.com

Charles François de Saint Simon Sandricourt,the last Bishop of Agde,  was guillotined in Paris on July 26, 1794, one of the last victims of The Terror. Known as a devout, kindly and learned man, he gave away much of his inherited wealth to the poor.

There are very few monuments to mark the murder of the Catholic hierarchy during The Terror. Bishop Saint-Simon is remembered in the name of a narrow street a few steps away from the Cathedral in Agde, and by a small plaque in an innocuous place beneath the former Bishop's palace by the waterfront (now a parking lot next to the Herault).

France is a highly secularised country, where the main discussion of religion involves the banning of burkas and programmes about the Inquisition on  the liberal ARTE  channel which underline the "obvious evil" of religion. Amidst this whitewash, people forget their actual history - the revolution and the hatred that fueled it, the reforms and forced vows, the denunciations, the stripping of the churches -- at their peril.  Charles François de Saint Simon Sandricourt pray for your people, pray for us!

Happy Feast Day of Saint Jean-François Régis

It's appropriate, given that we're currently in the heart of the Languedoc that today's patron saint is a local man whose ministry tied him to the arid impoverished hill country of southern France. At Mass today, our parish priest, himself a local man and proud of his connection to the region, was clearly delighted to elaborate on the life of this patron saint of priests, "less well known than Saint Jean Vianney". Below is my remembered precis of his sermon with some dates supplied by the French Jesuit site about Saint Jean-François Régis

Jean-François Régis was born near Narbonne in 1597 and studied with the Jesuits first at school in Béziers and later at a seminary Montpellier where he made his religious vows in 1618. He was ordained in 1630 in Toulouse. 

At a time of religious tension and (often) violence, where many former Catholics had strayed to Huguenot and Calvinist sects, Jean-François Régis managed to win back a remarkable number of souls with his simple and sincere approach. He felt that God was calling him to go to the New World, but his superior sent him to the Ardèche rather than Canada, and there in the hill country he spent the rest of his life ministering to the poor of the region. 

He became  one of the "missionnaires de l'intérieur" who lead an itinerant life in the rugged hill country, travelling from village to village, bringing the Good News to tiny stone churches, baptising babies, and saving souls. Even though frequent confession was a common occurrence in those days, Jean-François Régis was remarkable in his ability to encourage the faithful to confess their sins, and would spend eight or nine hours at a time hearing confessions.

Sainte Jean-François Régis' death was hastened by his fidelity to the sacraments: he arrived at the village of Lalouvesc in the Northern Ardèche on 23rd December 1640 in bitter winter weather, burning with fever caused by a lung infection, to say the Christmas Masses and hear confessions. Over the course of three days he said seven Masses and heard confessions from dawn to dusk and beyond. After Mass on 26th December Saint Jean-François Régis couldn't reach the confessional, so great were the crowds waiting for the sacrament, so he sat beside the altar and heard confessions there until the evening. Despite his illness he ignored an open window nearby, and it is thought that the draught fro this window caused his collapse. He was taken to a warm place, where, despite the seriousness of his condition, the saint insisted on hearing another twenty or so confessions until he was physically unable to  continue. He remained bedridden in pain and constant prayer until he died five days later. Soon after his death, the villagers spoke of the "saint père" who had died in their service. 

There's a very detailed precis of his life at Catholic.org and a lovely retelling of his life (in French) at Jesuites.com. 

Saint Jean-François Régis, Ora Pro Nobis! Pray for our priests!

I'd love to hear from anybody who has made the pilgrimage to Lalouvesc. Apparently the villagers were so worried about someone coming and removing the body of their beloved priest that they cut down an enormous chestnut tree and hollowed out the trunk to contain (and presumably hide) his body. 

The real spirit of Vatican II and a parking ticket

Chapel of Our Lady of the Apocalypse

Photo credit: Jean-Louis Zimmerman

Our Parish Priest says that that there is no such thing as coincidence. This makes me even more delighted to report that apparently random and negative events on our journey to our French home (eldest child having massive projectile vomit while we were driving at 130km/h down the motorway) delayed our journey (serious hour spent cleaning car, siblings, and so forth) which motivated us to drive for a further three hours to Clermont Ferrand which meant that we didn't have to worry about "Pottery Masses" at Orleans Cathedral. We did however have to worry about finding another Mass, and a quick Google on my smartphone pulled up a 10am Mass at the Cathédrale de Notre Dame de l'Assomption in Clermont Ferrand.

The Cathedral is a Gothic masterpiece in black volcanic stone. The interior has had a few concessions made to modernity (a "table" altar on the sanctuary in front of the high altar), a few bits of contemporary (or 70s folksy - as you will) religious "art" added here or there, but essentially the place is as it would have been several hundred years ago: it hasn't been vandalised.

The Mass was a revelation as well. I've been to all sorts of Masses in France, and I never know what to expect. One Sunday in Paris, while staying with friends, we wandered to the nearest church and found ourselves to be the only Europeans amidst a fervent congregation from Haiti: the Mass was said passionately (entirely in Creole) by a Haitian priest whose homily alone clocked in at almost an hour. I think it might still be the longest Mass we've ever been to: almost three hours later we met the bemused priest who was wondering what we'd made of his lovely parish community and where we'd come from. We've also seen Masses creatively intoned by barefoot priests in sandals in the round in vandalised churches denuded of their sacred art and hung with macrame banners. So we never know what to expect.

At Clermont Ferrand we were more than pleasantly surprised. The Mass was a crowd pleaser - there's no doubt. The Cathedral was certainly full, and it was difficult to find parking anywhere nearby. But it wasn't tambourines and guitars pulling in this crowd: it was Gregorian chant, rubrics that anybody familiar with the Extraordinary Form would instantly recognise, and a sense of reverence that's all too often missing. Here though, was a sacred liturgy, the sacrifice on Calvary reinacted with reverence, yet it was still both popular and populist. Wonderful!

We started off with the Asperges, in Latin. Much of the ordinary of the Mass was in Latin - mainly Mass I, although the Gloria was from Mass 8 (always a crowd pleaser). The congregation clearly knew their chant, and the phrases alternated between the choir and the people. The alter servers were arranged as in the EF: and followed many of the same rubrics which was refreshing in an Novo Ordus Mass where it's far more common to see a plethora of servers hanging around looking bored, sometimes literally twiddling their thumbs (or waving at their parents as used to happen in a parish we used to go to!).



Nothing in life is perfect, and there were some things that I wasn't happy with -- the choir stood between the "new" altar and the high altar, which meant that they had their backs to the Blessed Sacrament (and blocked the Tabernacle from view) which I found odd. Also, as is common in France, very few people knelt at the consecration: rows of chairs very close together with no kneelers send out a very clear "no kneeling" signal. On the other hand, I noticed a bit of a "kneeling wave": wherever small groups of people knelt, many of those around them also started to kneel, so that many more people were kneeling at the end of the consecration than at the beginning; ditto after the Agnus Dei. Perhaps peer-pressure is what's needed to reinstate reverence: kneeling - Just Do It!

Kneeling to receive the Blessed Sacrament, on the other hand, was clearly not an option, and I have to admit to being too cowardly to try given how quickly the communion lines were moving. However receiving Our Lord on the tongue was clearly not uncommon, even if not the norm, and many people genuflected (as we did) before receiving communion. Somehow seeing people making a deep genuflection (rather than a duck-bob) before receiving Our Lord redeems the standing bit, for me at least. The cloud around the silver lining was that we had to choose our communion queue carefully in order to dodge the crowd of extraordinary ministers of self importance Holy Communion.

The Mass was a real blend of old and new, but with much more old than new. The readings and Eucharistic prayers were in French, but the rest of it was far closer to the EF in many ways than most Novus Ordo Masses that I've been to. This is what I think is the real "spirit" of Vatican II - a genuine hermeneutic of continuity, where the Mass has not been changed beyond recognition, but simply has some bits added in the vernacular. There were "bidding prayers" and the ghastly sign-of-peace (which I have to admit my husband likes and I have always found annoying and cringe worthy in equal measure, but then he's far less of a misanthrope). As I've already said, nothing is perfect, but - oh! - if only every N.O. Mass could be said in this way, how pleased Our Lord would be!

We had a little time to look around the cathedral after Mass - it is beautiful. I took many photos but only a few came out satisfactorily. If you have the chance to visit keep an eye out for the guardian angels on either side of the high altar, and the chapel of Our Lady of the Apocalypse which is really beautiful. I've used a photo I found on Flickr rather than my own, as the photographer  (Jean-Louis Zimmermann) has managed to get a much better image than I did.

We returned to our car to find that we had a parking ticket. As we had a roof box on the car, we'd not been able to fit into the municipal underground parking, and had driven around fruitlessly looking for a space on the roads around the Cathedral. We'd found one space on a long stretch of road running up to the Cathedral where more than a dozen cars were already parked with two wheels up on the pavement. "When in Rome..." (and almost late for Mass) and all that... so we too pulled up and parked "avec deux roues sur la trottoire". Zut alors! Our parking ticket was timed at 10:09am  - and we were more than halfway down the row, every single car of which had a ticket on it. I reckon that every week the Clermont Ferrand police start their ticketing at, oh, about three minutes after Mass. Nice little earner. Don't assume that just because every car with a local licence plate does something that it's OK. Personally, I was happy to pay the 38EU to get a decent Mass with proper plate and good music rather than the pottery Mass that we'd dreaded. So we recommend the Mass at Clermont Ferrand, but you have been warned about the parking.