David, this post filled me with so much joy. I felt like I was sitting next to you and your family at Christmas dinner. What a gift you are to us, to Christendom, and to the entire damn world (and cosmos). I pray and hope you are feeling better after your surgery; chronic pain is a beast I know well. Merry Christmas to you and yours. As I sit here with my dog Bruce in my lap, I can only feel gratitude for your gifts, and your witness.
Merry Christmas to you and yours DBH & to everyone else who may be reading this. Thank you for your engaging and stimulating articles; it's a pleasure to live with them as a weekly feature. Here's to your return to health and happiness in the New Year.
(p.s. I can't help but sympathise with our man with the winter allergies since I'm currently nursing my own time-honoured and traditional festive head-cold and/or flu. But I'm not allowing my spirits to be dampened by this since it wouldn't feel like Christmas without it. Sancte Guinefortis, ora pro mihi)
From England, where nobody knows whence the appellation "Boxing Day" derives but we happily still call it that anyway, I wish you a most merry Christmastide and an abundance of good things in 2025.
Whenever the source of a custom is lost to public memory, the thing to do is invent a genetic myth that can turn it into a commercial opportunity. Just as the invention of Scottish tartan lore created at once a mythical taxonomy of clan patterns and a market for kilts and scarves and such for tourists eager to bring home some 'authentic' symbol of their Scottish forebears' clan identities, so Boxing Day could be made into a time of year when those same tourists are encouraged to engage in the 'ancient British custom' of buying expensive boxes for all your beloved friends and family.
Merry Christmas to you, sir., and many good wishes for a healthy 2025. I take it as a sign you are recovering that you are back to writing engaging posts. Thank you and God bless you.
As a medievalist, I should mention that one of the most famous examples of the Annales approach to history is Jean-Claude Schmitt's "Le Saint lévrier. Guinefort, guérisseur d'enfants depuis le XIIIe siècle."
Merry Christmas, David! I hadn’t heard of St. Guinefort, but I’m delighted and shall direct my veneration accordingly. It occurs to me that the story you shared in your last post of the pilgrim passing off a dog’s tooth as a relic, only to witness miracles, could just as well be attributed to the sanctity (much more common in that species) of the animal in question.
Happy Christmas, Dr. Hart! May you and your loved ones enjoy a very healthy, joyful, and, above all, peaceful 2025. A good start on the path to the last wish would be not annexing Greenland and the Panama Canal.
The Godfather reference would have made me spill my tea, had I been drinking one at the time of reading it.
Your contempt for fox hunting may put you on a collision course with your dear friend John Milbank. I couldn’t comprehend how such a great and kind man could tolerate that barbaric practice until I realized that he would not give up a single Albionian tradition (unless it was of Puritan origin, of course).
I think that if John ever really witnessed the death of a fox he would be wracked with fellow feeling for the little creature. Sometimes an anxiety over the disintegration of Britain perhaps makes him jealous of everything traditionally British.
I promise not to annex either Greenland or Panama in the coming year, but I have no influence over the ochre imbecile.
For those interested, the Lilith (1964) film mentioned here is deeply interesting and beautiful. Hadn’t heard of it before reading this post. Aesthetic rapture and the nature of insanity are prominent themes.
Technically (how tedious I am) you need to add an 'omnia' before 'pecora', because the feminine adjective cannot be taken as qualifying a neuter. But that is only a quibble.
§8 was awfully clever. The penny was in the air with the epigraph from “The Hound of Heaven” and the penny dropped with the illumination and Latin text at the bottom. One wonders if there was perhaps an implicit pun of Fido and fidelis.
What a delightful way to be introduced to St. Guinefort—bravo!
David, this post filled me with so much joy. I felt like I was sitting next to you and your family at Christmas dinner. What a gift you are to us, to Christendom, and to the entire damn world (and cosmos). I pray and hope you are feeling better after your surgery; chronic pain is a beast I know well. Merry Christmas to you and yours. As I sit here with my dog Bruce in my lap, I can only feel gratitude for your gifts, and your witness.
Thanks, you're very kind.
Merry Christmas to you and yours DBH & to everyone else who may be reading this. Thank you for your engaging and stimulating articles; it's a pleasure to live with them as a weekly feature. Here's to your return to health and happiness in the New Year.
(p.s. I can't help but sympathise with our man with the winter allergies since I'm currently nursing my own time-honoured and traditional festive head-cold and/or flu. But I'm not allowing my spirits to be dampened by this since it wouldn't feel like Christmas without it. Sancte Guinefortis, ora pro mihi)
Technically, that should be 'ora pro me', but Guinefort is boundlessly magnanimous and would never trouble himself over trifles of grammar.
From so noble and elevated a creature as he I would gladly take instruction on grammar or otherwise and never bridle or sulk.
Merry Christmas! Here’s to a healthy and happy 2025. God bless you and yours and thank you for all that you do
From England, where nobody knows whence the appellation "Boxing Day" derives but we happily still call it that anyway, I wish you a most merry Christmastide and an abundance of good things in 2025.
Whenever the source of a custom is lost to public memory, the thing to do is invent a genetic myth that can turn it into a commercial opportunity. Just as the invention of Scottish tartan lore created at once a mythical taxonomy of clan patterns and a market for kilts and scarves and such for tourists eager to bring home some 'authentic' symbol of their Scottish forebears' clan identities, so Boxing Day could be made into a time of year when those same tourists are encouraged to engage in the 'ancient British custom' of buying expensive boxes for all your beloved friends and family.
You should be in marketing 😉
Yeah, I missed my calling.
Merry Christmas to you, sir., and many good wishes for a healthy 2025. I take it as a sign you are recovering that you are back to writing engaging posts. Thank you and God bless you.
Many thanks. I hope I am recovering, so prayers are still welcome.
What a merry jest about St. Guinefort! It reminds me of all the Christmasy jesting and laughter in 'Gawain and the Green Knight.'
As a medievalist, I should mention that one of the most famous examples of the Annales approach to history is Jean-Claude Schmitt's "Le Saint lévrier. Guinefort, guérisseur d'enfants depuis le XIIIe siècle."
A fine book.
Merry Christmas, David! I hadn’t heard of St. Guinefort, but I’m delighted and shall direct my veneration accordingly. It occurs to me that the story you shared in your last post of the pilgrim passing off a dog’s tooth as a relic, only to witness miracles, could just as well be attributed to the sanctity (much more common in that species) of the animal in question.
You know, I had just had that very thought when your comment arrived. Synchronicity... Great minds... and so forth.
Happy Christmas, Dr. Hart! May you and your loved ones enjoy a very healthy, joyful, and, above all, peaceful 2025. A good start on the path to the last wish would be not annexing Greenland and the Panama Canal.
The Godfather reference would have made me spill my tea, had I been drinking one at the time of reading it.
Your contempt for fox hunting may put you on a collision course with your dear friend John Milbank. I couldn’t comprehend how such a great and kind man could tolerate that barbaric practice until I realized that he would not give up a single Albionian tradition (unless it was of Puritan origin, of course).
I think that if John ever really witnessed the death of a fox he would be wracked with fellow feeling for the little creature. Sometimes an anxiety over the disintegration of Britain perhaps makes him jealous of everything traditionally British.
I promise not to annex either Greenland or Panama in the coming year, but I have no influence over the ochre imbecile.
He has his sights set on Canada, too.
Luckily he’s too stupid to know how to find it.
Well, my wife got me Prisms, Veils as a surprise gift - so there is really not much I could ask for.
As someone who is really bad at short stories, this book gives me something to strive for.
I hope your recovery is going well!
For those interested, the Lilith (1964) film mentioned here is deeply interesting and beautiful. Hadn’t heard of it before reading this post. Aesthetic rapture and the nature of insanity are prominent themes.
David, if you consult this very recent article https://www.pillarcatholic.com/p/pope-francis-announced-an-equipollent you'll see that Rome very much still accepts canonization by acclamation though not with that name. Warm regards from a friendly Catholic. ....Ian.
A very Merry Christmas to you! God bless you and yours. As for St. Guinefort, benedicite, omnes bestiae et pecora, Domino.
Technically (how tedious I am) you need to add an 'omnia' before 'pecora', because the feminine adjective cannot be taken as qualifying a neuter. But that is only a quibble.
St Jerome must have meant that only one of the cattle should praise the Lord; who am I to disturb his sacred cow?
Well, I assumed the adjective was meant to qualify both plural nouns, but Jerome would not have made a mistake. So: May all beasts and the flocks….
Wishing you a Beary Merry Christmas indeed, DBH (づ ◕‿◕ )づ
P.s.: Stocking Bear is a very cute teddy bear 💙🙏 — Friends are nice :)
Wouldn't dream of taking my tree down before Twelfth night ....
You are not far from the Kingdom.
§8 was awfully clever. The penny was in the air with the epigraph from “The Hound of Heaven” and the penny dropped with the illumination and Latin text at the bottom. One wonders if there was perhaps an implicit pun of Fido and fidelis.
What a delightful way to be introduced to St. Guinefort—bravo!
The delightful irony, of course, is that the villain of the tale was himself a domini canis by the name of his order.
Not that the domini canes have any real right to that high distinction.