Thank God, it's finally raining.

We have had unfairly gorgeous weather for almost two weeks now. It's killing me. Warm breezes, sunny afternoons, no humidity - how am I supposed to get anything done when it looks like that outside? Answer: it's very very difficult.

But now, thank God, it's raining. Thunder-at-three-in-the-morning, quad-flooding rain. And it's wonderful; I can sit here with my hot tea and write like it's going out of style, all thanks to this fabulous fabulous rain. I hope our nasty weather holds until Wednesday, when I go to Kalamazoo.

Oh, and about that - I don't know if I'll have steady computer access up in the Frozen North, but I'll try. Either way, you should have a series of reports back from the largest conference of medieval scholars on this continent. They don't call it The Zoo for nothing....

Variations on a Theme

Sometimes, I think about what it would be like to talk to the dead people I spend all day with. What would they say? Would they be irritating, funny, charming, sexy? Sometimes, I think about inviting them over for dinner - a professor of mine admits that she would never invite one of the dead people she studies, because she thinks that one particular dead lady would turn out to be an uptight prude. And I think she's probably right.

So here's what happened when I invited St. Thomas Aquinas over for dinner. The menu? Gulf prawns en brochette with white asparagus (it was in season) accompanied by a lovely crisp chardonnay (Kendall-Jackson '03? Entirely possible).

************

Knock knock knock.

ME
Well, do come in, St. Thomas, how very nice to see you! I'm so pleased you could make it.

THOMAS AQUINAS
Not at all.

ME
I hope you like seafood - summer is the best time of year for fresh Gulf seafood, I always think.

THOMAS AQUINAS
It would seem to be the case, for several reasons. First... [pauses to think]

ME
Yes, well, I'm sure it is. Let me get you a glass of wine; you must be tired, coming here all the way from the thirteenth century.

THOMAS AQUINAS
I shall list the ways in which it was a long journey. First, it was a long journey because I live in Germany which is quite far from here. Second, it was a long journey because I live eight centuries away. Third, it was a long journey because until the very end, mass transit was unavailable. Therefore, it would seem that it was a long journey.

ME
Where is that corkscrew? I'm sure I left it on the counter.

THOMAS AQUINAS
However, I respond that it was not a long journey because of several reasons. Allow me to list them for you.

ME
Ah, here we are, St. Thomas. I hope you like the wine. [pause because THOMAS AQUINAS is sipping the wine and has pulled out a wax tablet and stylus and is making notes about the wine; this seems a trifle excessive, even for a thirteenth-century cognoscento] Um. Perhaps you could tell me - what was it like, writing the Summa?

THOMAS AQUINAS
Orderly.

ME
I can see how that would be true.

THOMAS AQUINAS
[absently polishing the silverware on the table with his black Dominican habit and straightening the candleholders] I find that if I organize my day properly, my thinking is likewise organized.

ME
May I ask you a personal question, St. Thomas?

THOMAS AQUINAS
[now humming the Te Deum under his breath as he rubs at a particularly recalcitrant spoon]

ME
Well, I was just wondering if you could tell me about the incident at Rocca Secca, with the woman...*

THOMAS AQUINAS
Concupiscence is a sin. Isn't that skirt too short?

ME
It reaches the floor, St. Thomas.

THOMAS AQUINAS
Yes, well, it could do with a few more inches. [holds his wineglass up to the light and examines it critically for water spots]

ME
[dispiritedly] I'll check on dinner...

************

* Editor's Note: the "incident at Rocca Secca" refers to an episode Thomas experienced during his period of captivity. Being fairly well-born, he was involved in some of the political maneuvering of the day and was kidnapped and held in a castle for awhile. While he was there, his captors supposedly sent a temptress to do what temptresses do best (hint: it isn't windows) but Thomas, in defense of his chastity, drove her from the room with a burning stick from the fire. Chastity might be a virtue, but it doesn't hold a candle to a burning stick when it comes to temptresses.

Writing is a process - you shut up.

I know that developing good writing is a process. I really, really do. And I want to develop as a writer, and continually evolve my style, and grow more sophisticated in my facility with language and expression. I do.

I just wish it didn't all have to happen in the next fourteen days.

Turns out the problem with signing up for all seminars this term is that all the evaluation is coming at the end. It is, in fact, reminiscent of a dump truck. Shovel, shovel, shovel, all semester. And now? *Beep beep beep*, dump truck backs up and wham! evaluation!, and all of a sudden great leaps in my rhetorical ability have to be made. Which I don't object to. I'm simply wondering if I can make them in two weeks or so.

I'm trying desperately to take it constructively and have a good attitude, because I know it's all for the best, and most of the suggestions are valid (I know, I am overly rhetorical sometimes and yes, I do need to avoid an overly narrative style), but my goodness, what a difference a little positive reinforcement makes! I had two meetings today, both evaluating some written work, and here they are...

Meeting Number One
I walked in, and the professor made a point to preface the whole thing by saying, "I read this twice, it was really interesting. I have a lot of comments for you, and it's because I want to help you make this paper better." With my good attitude switched on, I agreed with 98% of what (s)he wanted to change [yes, the pronoun's gender-neutral, I'm not telling you who it is], and argued successfully for my other 2%.

Meeting Number Two
The professor launched right into criticism, which took about the same amount of time and was substantively the same as Meeting Numero Uno. But this time, I had to keep reminding myself that (s)he was really actually interested in the topic and that (s)he really did have my best interests at heart in ripping this to shreds, because (s)he certainly never said so. I think I might have gotten an "It was interesting" on the way out, but please. I've worked with this professor enough to know that (s)he is on my side, but it was really hard not to feel defensive when all I got was negative feedback.

All right, all right, I'm whining. Fine, I'll stop, because I'm sure the manner in which I'm whining is rhetorically unsatisfactory anyway. And off I go to write some more, because unsatisfactory or not, I've got three papers to write and a thesis to revise before Kalamazoo.

Grrrrrrrr.

A break from our regularly scheduled papal programming for some quizzy goodness. It's silly, but fun - go on, you know you want to take it, too...

Apparently, I am...

*******************************************

Sekhmet Indeed, you are 75% erudite, 54% sensual, 83% martial, and 41% saturnine.

Sekhmet, whose name literally translated means “The Mighty One” or “The Powerful One”, was the Goddess of divine retribution, justice, vengeance, and war. She was also called such impressive titles as “Powerful of Heart”, “The Scarlet Lady”, “Avenger of Wrongs”, “Lady of Flame”, “The One Before Whom Evil Trembles”, “Eye of Ra”, and “Lady of Slaughter”. Sekhmet was believed to protect the pharaoh in battle and destroy his enemies with arrows of fire. Hot desert winds were believed to be this Goddess’ breath, and her body was said to take on the bright glare of the midday sun. The priests of Sekhmet were specialists in the field of medicine, arts linked to ritual and magic. They were also trained surgeons of remarkable calibre. Tame lions were kept in temples dedicated to Sekhmet. An ancient Greek historian called Aelian said: “In Egypt, they worship lions, and there is a city called after them. The lions have temples and numerous spaces in which to roam, and they eat to the accompaniment of song.” Sekhmet was also the sister of Bast. Together the twin sisters formed the "Yin Yang" of Egyptian religion, Sekhmet, depicted as a young woman with the head of a lioness, being the destructive force, and Bast, shown with the head of domestic cat, being the positive force. For those of you who love wine; the blood-red wine of Upper Egypt was called the Wine of Sekhmet, while the white wine of Lower Egypt was the Wine of Bast.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 52% on erudite You scored higher than 8% on sensual You scored higher than 99% on martial You scored higher than 13% on saturnine

Link: The Mythological Goddess Test written by Nitsuki on Ok Cupid

Pope of the Day - Benedict XVI

And the pope of the day is the newly-elected Benedict XVI, the former Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger. Did I call it? No. Zero points for me. But I still think he's a buffer pope, and we'll know more after the media blackout ends tonight or tomorrow morning.

Also, zero points to CNN for their shite coverage and their shite translators. You'd think they could have someone who speaks Italian in the studio; it's sad when I can translate almost as well as they can. Boo, CNN.

Guide to the Papal Elections, Part Two

Well, first day out, no pope. This is no surprise at all, and Magic Pope 8 Ball (available at the Vatican gift shop) says, no white smoke before Thursday at the earliest. And now it's time to go inside the conclave in this edition of...

Guide to the Papal Elections

Eligo in Summum Pontificem...

The voting process to elect the next pope began today. After a lot of hoohah and parading around, the 115 cardinals in conclave got down to the business of voting, and, a short time later, sent up black smoke to indicate that they hadn't picked anyone yet. How does it all work? Well, about like this:

1. Each cardinal gets a piece of paper and writes on it, "Eligo in summum pontificem" followed by a name. It means, "I choose for the highest pontificate Joe Schmoe." One wonders if they have to put their choice's name into the accusative (Eligo in summum pontificem Johannem Schmoem...). Right, Latin jokes - not funny.
2. Nine out of the 115 cardinals are chosen to be in charge of ballots. Three count, three help sick cardinals vote, and three verify the results.
3. After the votes have been counted, if any one guy receives a 2/3 majority (in this conclave, that would work out to 77 votes) he wins. Voilà, a pope.
4. But of course that doesn't happen right away, so they burn the ballots in a special stove with special chemicals and black smoke comes out the top of the Sistine Chapel.
5. Over the course of the next several weeks, if necessary, periods of voting will be interspersed with times for prayer and reflection. If, after about 30 ballots, the conclave still hasn't managed to elect someone, the rules change.
6. At that point, a pope can be elected by a simple majority plus one - in this conclave, by 58 votes.

The Sistine Chapel - as painted skillfully by Charleton Heston

Joseph Cardinal Ratzing-who?

If you've been following the news at all, you'll have heard the name "Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger" bandied about. No, cognoscenti, his middle name is not "Cardinal" by lucky chance, that's just the convention. Don't ask me why, I'm certainly not infalliable.

This guy was one of JPII's right-hand-men, and is currently the head of the Congregation on the Doctrine of the Faith (the Church's Rules Committee - if you're not supposed to do it, JCR is the one telling you that you can't). He's stepped up after the death of JPII and assumed quite a lot of authority, leading some to suspect that he will be the next pope. An inside source at the Vatican (probably a cardinal, but since the imposition of a media blackout eight days ago, all the cardinals are forced to speak to the press on DEEP background) indicated that he probably had about 50 votes going into the conclave.

But don't count on seeing JCR as the next pope. For one thing, he's too connected with the last papacy to be a good candidate. Furthermore, he's opposed by a coalition more or less headed by the more liberal Carlo Maria Cardinal Martini, former Archbishop of Milan. Now ridden with Parkinson's, he is popular with a left-wing Catholicism, due to his easy stance on clerical celibacy (he says he hasn't ruled out changes to the current policy) and female deacons (generally for it). However, CMCR doesn't control enough votes to be pope or to have a controlling say in who is. He does have sufficient influence, I suspect, to hold up voting if a really offensive candidate is put up by JCR's crowd.

So what's the big issue at this conclave? It's....

Collegiality

Known by various names throughout the history of the Church, "collegiality" essentially means "the extent to which the pope can tell everyone what to do." During the Reformation and Counter-Reformation, collegiality was called "conciliarism" and was a major problem. Essentially, councils of cardinals wanted to have veto power over papal decisions, and the pope vetoed that one right away. The pope got the last laugh, too, because he's infalliable. Or at least he said he was not long thereafter.

But today, "collegiality" is a nice way of saying "centralization." Many cardinals and high-ranking Church officials believe that too much power resides in the Vatican and in the Curia and that not enough autonomy is given to local authorities to run their own parishes and make their own decisions. Furthermore, many bishops and cardinals from the developing world feel that the Vatican is insensitive to problems and issues from their regions. It will be interesting to see what effect this has on voting - if enough conservative cardinals are unhappy with excessive centralization, they could be convinced to vote for a less conservative candidate who promised to give them more local control.

Predictions

This is always dangerous. But here's my prediction for what's going to happen in the next several days.

1. After voting today, the cardinals have more or less settled who's in whose camp. Those supporting JCR will support the nominee he puts up in the next several days. That nominee will likely be a conservative Continental choice. Why? JCR is extremely conservative, and it's unlikely that he is (a) ready for a long papacy if a young candidate is elected and/or (b) ready to pick someone of enahnced melanin status. And he means that in the nicest possible way, really he does. Don't sit next to him.
2. The ideal papal candidate is someone between the ages of 68 and 75. Why? Because after a 26-year papacy under JPII, most cardinals don't want to lock themselves into another long one. With one of the main issues being centralization and the desirability thereof, maintaining some control (through the morbid assumption that if the nominee is old enough, he'll croak within the next decade) is key.
   
3. That being said, I suspect that an older, Continental pope will eventually be chosen. The majority of cardinals, opposed though they may be to centralization, probably aren't ready to cede control of the Curia to the developing world quite yet, so a Buffer Pope (dibs on that phrase if I turn out to be right) would give the Church time to get used to the idea and to arrange things to their liking.
4. Possible choices? Angleo Scola, Patriarch of Venice; Dionigo Tettamanzi, Archbishop of Milan.
5. All this could be complete crap. So don't be upset if they elect someone you (and I) have never heard of. That's the way the Host crumbles.

Conclave starts Monday - are you ready?

Of course you're not, and I haven't put up the next installment of your Guide to the Papal Elections, so how could you be? Never fear, cognoscenti, it's on the way. In the meantime, here are the answers to the quiz, and some timesucking websites that rock.

QUIZ ANSWERS

I. This is indeed a Romanesque abbey cloister, well done. Spot on about the round arches, they are your guideline to dating. Medieval dating, anyway - telling that cute guy that you think his barrel-vaulted arches make him oh-so-Romanesque will ensure that you live a life of celibate solitude. Which is, in the end, a lot like being cloistered. So there you go. The church is Saint-Paul-de-Mausolle, in Provence, which was begun in 1134. For those cognoscenti who know their art and architecture timelines, this is interesting because we see an old-style Romanesque aesthetic here, while in 1134 in the north (Ile-de-France, Paris, Normandy) they were beginning to build in the new Gothic or French style for allthey were worth. Which just goes to show you, well, something.

II. This is the Italian baptismal font from the baptistry in Pisa. There is a similar font in the baptistry in Florence, and the holes (pozzetti in Italian, "little wells,") are for the priests to stand in during baptisms. It used to be the case that the priests performing baptisms would get knocked over quite frequently by over-enthusiastic parents and little ones (a lot like the average youth league soccer game), so the holes were to keep them upright. That silk spots, you know! In Canto XIX of Inferno, Dante meets the simoniacs (sellers of church offices). Remember that each punishment is a contropasso, the ironic, parodic, or generally interesting reversal of the sin the damned committed in life. Here's what he says:

Along the sides and bottom I could see
the livid stone was pierced with holes
all round and of a single size.

They seemed to me as wide and deep
as those in my beautiful St. John
made for the priests to baptize in...

From the mouth of each stuck out
a sinner's feet and legs up to the thighs
while all the rest stayed in the hole.

They all had both their soles on fire.
It made their knee-joints writhe so hard
they would have severed twisted vines or ropes.

As flames move only on the surface
of oily matter caught on fire,
so these flames flickered heel to toe.

-from the Hollander translation and commentary

III. Spot on again, this is indeed a reliquary for the remains of St. Thomas Becket. On the front we see the four knights "sent" by Henry II to kill Becket doing just that. Remember that they murdered him in the church, a slightly problematic act. You can still visit Canterbury Cathedral and see the spot where it was done, but another Henry (VIII) ripped out the beautiful shrine to the saint during his silly Reformation. So now there is a tacky ugly Anglican crap one.

IV. This is a page from the Book of Kells, now housed at Trinity College Library in Dublin. The four guys are the four Evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John...Loquacious can teach you a really good song to help you remember them and other New Testament books of the Bible, but I digress...). St. Matthew is the man; St. Mark, the lion; St. Luke, the ox; and St. John, the eagle. Why?

For the Evangelists there have been used from very early times certain conventional emblems — a winged man or an angel for St. Matthew, a winged lion for St. Mark, a winged calf for St. Luke, and an eagle for St. John. All these are taken from the description of the heavenly liturgy in Apoc., iv, v, and must have been suggested by the vision of Ezechiel (Ezech., i, 10).

-from the Catholic Enclycopedia, "Symbolism"

V. In this panel painting from the early XV century, Christ and the Virgin (that's God the Father up at the top, sending down the Holy Pigeon; it's a busy picture...those little people are your general Florentines on whose behalf the Virgin is interceding. Got it? Good.) are making similar gestures. The BVM is holding up her right breast, and Christ is gesturing to the wound in his side. Why? Because in medieval iconography, the two were often equated in slightly icky ways. Yes, what you're thinking. See the picture on the front of this book to see what I mean.

TIMESUCKS

NewAdvent.org (the people who bring us the Catholic Encyclopedia, a great, if slightly outdated resource) has posted a list of all the cardinal electors, ranked by order of most papabile ("full-of-popey-goodness," is the exact translation) to least papabile. Note that the least likely category consists of "sick cardinals and cardinals from the United States." Yes.

What are the 800,00-some-odd most commonly used words in our language? Find out at Wordcount.org, a fabulous website/experiment. "Derrida" comes in at 17,072 (-th most common), slightly less common than "squashed" and slightly more common than "tubular."

Vote in the People's Voice portion of the Webby Awards. Lots of your favorite sites have been nominated, including Eddie Izzard's, BoingBoing, the New York Times online, Target, and Orbitz. You have to register to vote, but come on. Don't be a tool. Incidentally, the results are tabulated by PricewaterhouseCoopers, just in case any accountants out there want to know.

Play the Iconography Game!

All right, cognoscenti, you think you're clever? Well, here's a quiz for you, so test your iconographic acumen. Never fear, there's extra credit along the way, too. Get all five correct, and you can officially declare yourself cultured and ready to start accepting those cocktail party invitations. Ready? Okay. Let's get started...

Question Number Eye

This picture is of a medieval cloister from a church in Provence. During what period was it built, and how do you know? (Mr. Brown, I expect you to get this one!)

Question Number Eye-Eye

This is an Italian baptismal font from the later middle ages. Although it's empty now, it formerly was filled with water. What are those holes doing there? (And for extra credit, whom does Dante stuff into a similar hole in Inferno?)

Question Number Eye-Eye-Eye

This reliquary was made to hold the remains of a particular saint. Whose? (Hint: you can figure it out if you look closely at the bottom front panel, or think about meddlesome priests and Chaucer in general.)

Question Number Eye-Vee

This is a page from one of the most famous Irish manuscripts ever produced. Name it, and name the four figures pictured here (extra credit if you can name them in order).

*Editor's note and update: I have no idea why my other image disappeared; chalk it up to the wrath of an angry God. So here's the image, sorry about that.

Question Number Vee

All right, this is a tough one. In this painting, Christ and the Virgin are making similar gestures. What are they comparing? (Mr. Filce, you should get this one!)

...oh, it does suit Madam!

Ah, alas for the days of oh-so-modest bathing costumes. Like this one, from 1895:

"No, no," you cry, "those days have not passed us by altogether! One can still find a lovely bathing costume if one is a modest* lady!"

"Surely you jest!" I respond incredulously.

Oh, but no, you're not jesting, are you, because there's Wholesomewear.com, a company with the clever slogan, "Modest clothing for wearever." Get it? WEARever, ha ha ha. They feature lovely products like these:

We eagerly await the release of their new line of burkhas and ankle-chains, for restraining your modest woman where she belongs, in a shack behind your compound.

*Editor's note: "modest," here in its less-commonly-used form meaning "completely oppressed, imprisoned, or perhaps a resident of a fiercly misogynistic nation." Don't look at me like that, my family came from Lebanon. And let me tell you, they competed on the Olympic Misogyny Team. Now, of course, they've gone pro...

$0.02

I've installed a new commenting system. In true VH1 style, tell me what you think: upgrade/downgrade?

Historical Theory is neither historical nor theory...discuss.

So this weekend will not be full of pope-watching as I'd anticipated. No, it will instead be full of

WRITING.

"What will you be writing?" you solicitously ask.
"Well," I say, "since you ask so nicely, I'll tell you."

EVERYTHING.

I will be writing everything. A case of rampant hyperbole? Perhaps. Here is a small sample of the excitement that awaits me: this is the prompt for a 10 page paper due Tuesday.

Discuss in any way you deem appropriate (interpreting the quotation widely), the following:

The tendency of thick description and semiotics is to reinforce the impulse to burrow in and not to try to connect the dots. That occurs because what is an analytical strength - Geertz's attention to particularity and his orientation toward the actor's perspective - is a weakness for synthesis. Thick description leads to brilliant readings of individual situations, rituals, and institutions, it does not require saying how 'cultural texts' relate to each other or to general processes of economic and social change.

Your answer should be based on the set texts [articles everyone in the class reads] and at least eight of the books discussed in Part II of the course [the past four weeks]. You may include any other works you consider relevant.

Aaaaarrrrrgh! Well, maybe I will watch just a little more pope before getting to work...oooooh, now they're naming saints. Play along at home! Get five in a row, and shout "BINGO!"

You Can Take It With You

A recent article in the NY Times reported that 18,000 people pass by the Holy Father every hour, as he lays in state in St. Peter's. And what do most of them do? You guess.

They take pictures on their cell phones for the thirty or so seconds that they have at the front of the line. If you've ever been to Italy, you know how much Italians adore their cell phones (almost as much as they love their scooters, ciao!). Apparently, even though official photography is prohibited, there has been no effort to stop pilgrims. Read the entire article here.

The author of the article likens the pictures to relics - indeed, she calls them "digital relics." She's quite right, and I think this is an interesting comment on pilgrimage behavior. Beginning as early as the third century AD, pilgrims tromped all over the dusty Holy Land and traveled throughout Europe seeking out holy people and places. Indeed, scholars often speak of a "sacred geography" extant during the Middle Ages which was defined not by topography or landmarks but by the shrines of the saints (obvious major points: Santiago de Compostela, for St. James the Apostle; Tours, for St. Martin; Assisi, for SS. Francis and Clare; Vezélay, for Mary Magdalen; and Rome).

Now a straight-up, honest-to-goodness relic was difficult to obtain even in the Middle Ages (we're talking arms, legs, heads, or even fingers or toes - serious body parts). Theft and swindling was quite common; a popular twefth-century joke told the story of a monk, in search of relics for his abbey, who purchased the head of St. John the Baptist. The catch? The monk knew quite well that the head of St. John was in a famous church somewhere, so he cleverly purchased the head of St. John-at-the-age-of-twelve. You can see how this might be somewhat problematic.

But even if pilgrims couldn't get first-degree relics for themselves, they still wanted to bring home something. This was in the nature of a souvenir as well as a religious expression, for often these tokens effected miracles or cures (through the intervention of the saint from whom they originated, of course). One of the most common mementos was an ampulla* (a little clay jar) which contained water or oil from the saint's shrine.

*Editor's Hagiographic Note: some ampullae contained oil from the saint him/herself; there were miraculous relics of saints whom we classify as myroblytes. This means that their physical relics or their tombs exuded liquids/oils/aromatic drippy goo that was put into ampullae and relayed to the pilgrim - for a modest fee, of course...

So, ampullae. Or any number of other kinds of mementos. The point is, much like the modern-day pilgrims who are taking pictures of the Holy Father, these remembrances usually had the saint figured on the front. I myself have a medal from the Basilica of St. Francis at Assisi that shows Francis chilling with the local wildlife; many show the saint with the instrument of his or her martyrdom. At any rate, it seems to be the case that the image is central to the pilgrimage experience. And as you may or may not know, I am nuts (N-V-T-S, nuts!) about images. So here are a few for you:

Ampulla (Flask) of Saint Menas
late 500s–mid-700s
Byzantine; Probably made at Abu Menas, near Alexandria, Egypt; terracotta
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
Ampullae like this were used by pilgrims to carry water or oil home from the great pilgrimage site for Saint Menas, said to be a late third-century Egyptian Roman soldier who was martyred for his Christian faith. He is shown between the two camels that returned his body for burial.

Pilgrimage Badge of St. George Slaying the Dragon
1400-1550, English; cast lead
The British Museum, London

Pilgrim badges were mass-produced in moulds and were cheap so everyone could afford them. People wore them attached to clothes and hats or around the neck to show where they had been on pilgrimage. Most pilgrimage souvenirs are found in or near rivers, because people thought it brought good luck if they threw them into water.

Gold and Enamel Pendant Reliquary of SS. George and Demetrius
Byzantine, 13th century; from Thessaloniki, Greece
The British Museum, London
This lovely reliquary is thought to have once contained a fragment of the True Cross, and is an excellent example of a top-end "souvenir"; it once belonged to St. Kethevan, a Georgian queen martyred by the Persian ruler Shah Abbas I in the seventeenth century.

Guide to the Papal Elections, Part One

As promised, here's the first installment of your Guide to the Papal Elections. In the coming days, I'll keep you posted on who's on the short list for pope, what news is coming out of the conclave, and general papal happenings. Today, an introduction to my picks for the Vicarage of Christ.

Election Procedures

Sod off, I don't feel like going into all of it. It's complicated, right? 120 cardinals, all under 80; 2/3 majority to elect unless they're deadlocked and then simple majority plus one. Okay, that's sorted. If you really need to know, read about it at the Catholic Encyclopedia, whence I myself steal many things.

Fantasy Conclave

In a perfect world, they would let me in the conclave to watch, gossip, and pass around large amounts of illicit cash whilst planting forbidden electronic listening devices. When will that happen? Likely, never. So if I WERE in the conclave, I might back these candidates (note the lovely use of the subjunctive, conveying a sense of future complete and total hopelessness, ss well as a sort of sexy-sexy grammatical savoir faire):

Cardinal Francis Arinze

• Country: Nigeria
• Age: 72
• Currently: Prefect of the Congregation of Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments (this means he's in charge of the liturgy; this is the fourth highest ranking post in the Vatican, oooooooh)
• What you need to know: apparently quite a nice guy, the deputy editor of the Catholic weekly The Tablet says, "he is not known to get up people's noses." This is a good thing too, as it's always uncomfortable to have the pope up your nose. It's uncomfortable to have anyone up your nose, let's be quite honest. Arinze has been in charge of Vatican relations with other faiths, which as we all know has rather shifted from "KILL All The Infidels For The Greater Glory Of Christ, Aaaarrrrrgh" over to "Um, Sorry About That Killing Bit, It Was A Bit Over The Top, We Know". By all accounts, Arinze is a humble man, and opinion differs as to whether (a) he is truly humble or (b) he's just a tool who pretends humility to make friends. Is popular because he's African and a nice guy, so would be able to represent the developing world while being a nice guy. Good enough.

Cardinal Jean-Marie Lustiger

• Country: France
• Age: 78
• Currently: Archbishop of Paris
• What you need to know: born to Polish Jews who had settled in Paris. His parents were deported during WWII and his mother died at Auschwitz; they left him with a Catholic family in Paris. Jean-Marie converted to Catholicism at the age of 14 and was baptized in 1940. He has never sought to obscure his Jewish heritage and has always been a staunch supported of Israel. Taught at the Sorbonne for a number of years as well, and is incredibly well-loved by the people of Paris, who fill Notre-Dame to the flying buttresses every time he celebrates Mass. Seems a tremendous person, main drawback is his advanced age. One of my top picks since he seems to really do the Holy part of the Holy Father job.
  

Cardinal Oscar Andrés Rodruiguez Maradiaga

• Country: Honduras
• Age: 62
• Currently: Archbishop of Tegucigalpa
• What you need to know: generally regarded as a moderate who had advocated social and economic reform in his home country. Critic of globalization, recommended John Paul II step down. Like Arinze, a representative of the developing world, where 2/3 of the world's Catholics hang out. This picture makes him look scarier than he may in fact be ("No more jam! Down with jam because it's tasty and tasty is SIN," he seems to say).

Cardinal Wilfrid Fox Napier

• Country: South Africa
• Age: 64
• Currently: Archbishop of Durban
• What you need to know: a Franciscan, so we like that; trained by Irish Franciscans, in fact. He was active in the end of apartheid, is friends with Nelson Mandela, learned Xhosa to help mediate local conflict, played competitive cricket, likes Creedence Clearwater Revival. A rock-and-roll fabulous cardinal who tells people they don't have to call him "Your Eminence," that "Cardinal" or "Archbishop" or "Father " will do, since that's the job he does. He ties with Lustiger for my top pick, you can read an interview with him here.

Cardinal Cristoph Schönborn

• Country: Austria
• Age: 60
• Currently: Archbishop of Vienna
• What you need to know: quite conservative, comes from a Czech aristocratic family, huge supporter of education (he's a Dominican, so no suprises there). Edited the Catechism, is on my list because he's a smart guy. Holiness rating? Jury's still out. But interesting, to be sure.

An Exercise in Restraint

Well, congnoscenti, I'm sure you were all expecting me to jump all over the Holy Father's death and put him straight into a Pope of the Day. But I'm not going to, because that would be in extremely poor taste. However tongue-in-cheek I may be about Popes who have been dead for centuries and are therefore quite crumbly and fair game, our most recent pope was a man of faith who did his very best at a difficult job. And we should respect that, and his passing.

That being said, I am fair trembling with excitement about the papal elections. Give me a few days, and I'll have every cognoscenti's Guide To The Papal Election posted right here. My early money is on Arinze (Nigeria) or Maradiaga (Honduras) but it remains to be seen if the Italian contingent is going to dig their feet in about keeping Peter's See in Italian hands. Remember, the Cardinals can choose any able-bodied Catholic man they want, so it could be you (assuming you are an able-bodied Catholic man. If you aren't, well, don't buy that mitre-stretcher just yet).

In other news, I am on the lookout for a job for the summer. The Met, as a member of the Not Calling Club, has eponymously refused to call and so I am removing any and all eggs from their basket. Suggestions are welcome - but if they are silly, I reserve the right to mock you. Oh, whom am I kidding; I never ever ever relinquished that right.

And finally, à propos of nothing, here's your D. H. Lawrence for the day. Why? Because it's damn good writing, that's why:

Connie always had a foreboding of the hopelessness of her affair with Mick, as people called him. Yet other men seemed to mean nothing to her. She was attached to Clifford. He wanted a good deal of her life, and she gave it to him. But she wanted a good deal more from the life of a man, and this Clifford did not give her; could not. [...] The world is supposed to be full of possibilities, but they narrow down to pretty few in most personal experience. There's lots of good fish in the sea...maybe...but the vast masses seem to be mackerel or herring, and if you're not mackerel or herring yourself, you are likely to find very few good fish in the sea. Clifford was making strides into fame, and even money. Connie nearly always had somebody at Wragby. But if they weren't mackerel they were herring, with an occasional catfish, or conger-eel.

D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterly's Lover, chapter four

This post has been rated by the Motion Picture Association of America. Not rated as anything, per se, just rated. You know, for practice.

I was at a movie tonight (Millions, if you must know - and it was quite good, too, featuring a chain-smoking St. Claire of Assisi and various other of our favorite saints; a very sweet film), and I realized, there's almost nothing better than the beginning of a movie.

Not the actual beginning, where you get plot and exposition and mood music and Blackout, Lights Up On A Small Town and the rest, but the bit that comes just before that. Not the previews, either, although I do love them, too. No, it seems to me that really and truly the best part is when the screen goes completely blank and the 20th Century Fox logo (or whatever studio's produced the thing) comes up, with the searchlights flashing across the screen and lighting up that ridiculously large gold effigy that always seems just the slightest bit idolatrous.

Because every movie starts that way, and at that one precise moment the sheer potential reaches deep down inside you and touches off little fluttery feelings of wanting-to-know, of excited-to-see. The film could be anything - good, bad, indifferent, saccharine, tragic, funny - anything, and in the end it doesn't really matter. The excitement comes from the not knowing, the not being quite sure, the tendency to catch your bottom lip between your teeth and wonder a little bit.

Because you know something's going to happen and you're not entirely sure what and you know that you could guess, too, if you had only a few more minutes or a little more information but it doesn't matter, because even if you've read all the reviews and heard all the commentary, for that one moment they finally have you paying attention and holding your breath just a little, as if it were the top of the roller coaster. It's a cinematic doorway, walking from the bright sunlight into a dark room which turns out to be not so dark after all. It's coming and going, entering and leaving, rituals of transition.

It's the same on television, of course - you flip (systematically, not randomly - happy, R?) through the channels and all of a sudden you learn that This Film Has Been Edited For Content and Time and To Fit The Shape of Your Screen. And Now For Our Feature Presentation. And it could be anything - Steel Magnolias or Indiana Jones or Pretty in Pink or something you've never seen before and wouldn't know what to call it if you had, on account of the movie being in Japanese. But there's still that sense of anticipation - a little less intense, of course, because you're folding your laundry or fussing at the cat instead of sitting with other people in a darkened room to share a common experience that is still, in a funny way,

completely isolated.

Anthropologists complain sometimes that we don't have any rituals anymore, not like we used to. Of course, to an anthropologist, it isn't a good solid ritual unless at least half the people are naked and the other half are wearing hats and banging round on pots and pans. But I think we do have rituals - only they're a little harder for us to identify, because we've switched to quieter pots and pans that look a little less like cooking implements and a little more like word processors. They're still pots and pans at heart, though, and I doubt even an anthropologist would have quite as much fun if movies just started off, bang, no warm-up at all. Rituals are important, even if sometimes they are a bit silly.

And I did like the movie, too - but it was all right because I was sure, even if it had been a complete waste of time, those thirty seconds or so at the beginning wouldn't disappoint me.

Spring Can Really Hang You Up The Most

Gustave le Gray (fl. 1850-1882), The River Seine

In a break from tradition, In A Model Environment is about to change gears and do a little off-topic blogging. Only for your enjoyment and amusement, cognoscenti, not to complain. Not to complain at all.

So.

About a week and a half ago, yours truly met a charming young man, a moderately successful musician who has built a career for himself in the Big Easy. We'll call him Prévert, because that isn't his name. He was playing at a local establishment and we established a rapport due to my love of obscure French music. He was consistently playing in a very flirtatious manner (this is a skill) and even asked me if I wanted to hear anything in particular. That's me, mind you, not anyone else in the place. Which was full enough - I know what you were thinking. With a little help from my friends (that is to say, Loquacious, Icebluer, and a rather stiff drink) I approached him between sets and struck up a conversation. There was witty banter, encouraging body language, and a general good vibe. We chatted about the travails of working as a musician, all the crazy requests one hears, the general willingness to take pretty much any job so long as the check cashes, etc. It started off something like this:

MOI
I've really enjoyed your set. Is it terribly gauche to make a request?

PRÉVERT
No, of course not. What would you like?

MOI
Do you know Autumn Leaves? It's my favorite.

PRÉVERT
Yes, I know it. I like it, too, but it doesn't get asked for much.

MOI
Well, in French or in English - whichever you want.

Editor's Note: For those of you not playing along at home, this was clever because Autumn Leaves is the English version of Jacques Prévert's Les Feuilles Mortes.

PRÉVERT
(Laughs) I'll play it in French, of course - Edith would want me to.

Editor's Note: He means Edith Piaf, known as "the Sparrow" during the Resistance. She was one of the great French voices, and is easily identifiable due to her distinctive vibrato.

MOI
Do it for La Résistance, for La Belle France.

PRÉVERT
(Laughs again, leans inward) Are you a singer, then?

MOI
No, actually, I'm a harpist...

And so things went along quite well. Do you see how well it was going? At the end of his break, he asked me to stay. I said I would, and at the end of his last set, he gave his card, avec le contact information. I thought this was a good sign. He said, be sure to let me know when you're playing, I'd love to come hear you with a knowing sort of look. It was a very gentlemanly way of saying, give me a call sometime, dollface. Which only ever works in film noir. It's ever so difficult to drag around the trumpet player and the requisite streetlight, to find a rainy cityscape, and then you have to pay the man who says, I knew when she walked into my office she was nothing but trouble. The dame was mysterious, all right, with legs up to...

You get the idea. And I digress.

So I waited about five days and then emailed him, in a dreadfully witty way, alluding to our previous conversation and letting him know the date and location of the next time I was playing in public. You should drop by, I said. Maybe we can go for coffee afterward, I said. What do you suppose happened?

Rien, that's what.

Apparently Prévert has joined the very special club of people who aren't calling me. Current members also include: Oxford, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, that lady who's supposed to be having a wedding in May. This is a popular club to be in.

But I think I'm going to alert Homeland Security and have them broken up, because they're a real drag. They are infringing on my freedom to secure a date with Prévert, and if that's the case, then the terrorists are definitely winning. Or something.