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The Spectator’s Notes

Charles Moore

Wednesday, 11th June 2008

Charles Moore's reflections on the week

Our Mass recently was said by a visiting priest, the regular one being away. He began the service arrestingly. ‘I woke up at three o’clock this morning,’ he said, ‘and I couldn’t remember who I was. Not that that matters; but I also couldn’t remember where I was going today. So I feel very lucky that I have got here.’ He then preached two homilies, one at the beginning of the Mass and one in the usual place, both about the body and blood of Christ. They were interweaved with his other theme, which was that he thought he was going senile. From time to time, he seemed to be right about the latter point, as he digressed magnificently about the battle of Agincourt (‘650 choleric English archers slew 14,500 of the French aristocracy, most of them drunk’) and about the iniquitous result of the Eurovision song contest. He also forgot some important bits of the service, such as the Creed. But each time that one felt overwhelmed by sadness that the poor man could no longer perform his function, he would prove by some prodigious feat of memory or brilliant turn in his argument that he did indeed know what he was doing, and his thoughts about the greatness of the mystery of the Eucharist became all the more resonant. Afterwards, I kept coming back to what he said first: ‘I couldn’t remember who I was. Not that that matters.’ We hear endlessly about the terrible effects of old age, but I sometimes think that no longer knowing who you are may be a privilege, bringing a sort of holiness. Why should we all need to know who we are? God does. As we approach death, we realise that that is what matters.

This column complained recently about the removal of some Catholic holy days of obligation, such as Ascension Day, to the nearest Sunday. I have now discovered that a novena — the classic nine-day cycle of prayer — takes its name and form from the nine-day gap between Ascension Day and Pentecost. So the new timetabling has undermined the basis of an ancient devotional aid.

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Ross Burns

June 17th, 2008 12:35am

In the last sentences of Charle Moore's recent Notes, he explains about the scarcity of straw. Surely someone of Charle's repute and good standing within his town would be gifted some straw by a local farmer friend. If that really cannot happen, then, indeed, something like a straw hat will replace the vulgar expensive hand bag as a front page must- have. You can only slowly shake your head.

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