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In This House of Brede
House of Brede - Feb 2021
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9. The Solution
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This whole event is interesting in terms of the dramatic structure of the novel. If you look at the novel in the ordinary worldly way, you would think that this was the central challenge of the plot -- how are the nuns to solve their financial crisis? And if you looked at it that way, you might be very disappointed with how this seemingly central plot point is resolved. For the problem disappears fortuitously and through no particular effort or virtue of the central characters.
But the role of the financial crisis was never that the plot should be built around how it was solved. Rather, it was a device to examine the vocations of several of the characters, Philippa included, and how they were still struggling to conform themselves to the ideal of their order. Once it had served that function, Godden simply pushed it off stage with found money and moved on to the next challenge to their vocations.
Who was right about the worldly financial question, therefore, does not matter at all. The question is, who acted according to their vocation and who did not, and how did they mature in their vocations as a result.

And it also shows that, regardless of how unsympathetic Dame Agnes may be, she is spot on about Philippa in this case (and others too).

And it also shows that, regardless of how unsympathetic Dame Agnes may be, she is spot on about Philippa in this case (and others too)."
Agreed. I think Dame Agnes really highlights as what I see as a major theme in the novel, which is the difficult balance between discipline and compassion, which is inherent in that life, but also in the life of the church as a whole. Indeed, so many of the rifts that divide us could be framed as a rift between discipline and compassion, when it is clear, as the novel highlights, that the way lies in reconciling discipline and compassion, not making one master over the other.

When you enter a convent you bring with you whoever you are. In the case of Philippa we have a mature astute woman with experiences the life-long nuns will never have. Nuns like Dame Agnes don't know how to fit her. What she and other nuns have difficulties with is that Phillipa may be new at the religious life, but at the same time she is an expert in other areas. Philippa is not a green 22-year-old and they struggle seeing the assets she brings. Their comments are always put negatively, that she is "too set in her ways."
After Abbess Hester's death and due to a personnel crunch in the interim before a new Abbess is elected, Philippa is put in charge of incoming correspondence in large part because of her linguistic talents. So here she was rightly placed, but it also puts her in close proximity to the monastery's governance. Then new Abbess Catherine inherits a dire financial mess. She, however, is not yet confident enough in her role to also seek out Philippa to get her take on the situation. This is an oversight in my mind, but I do excuse the Abbess for being overwhelmed.
To Philippa's credit she doesn't jump in right away. She watches for a while and then takes action. Being a problem solver is her expertise. This is a dire moment, and Philippa does find a solution, albeit a painful one. At this moment it is on Abbess Catherine to take it or leave it. She has other options, such as mortgaging the House. She chooses to go with it. I blame Abbess Hester for putting all of them into this situation.
Philippa later gets moved into another position to help her grow in her vocation, which is what probably would have happened anyway, crisis or not.
In due course all gets resolved, and again with the (financial) help of Philippa whose assets couldn't be fully liquidated before entering Brede. There is no going around the fact that without Philippa's help they would have been worse off.
I think both Mark (and Mariangel) and Kerstin have their points. I can't decide which of those two interpretations is better. I think that Rumer Godden would go with Mark's position, but I can't be sure. And I'm not sure that I'd go all the way with her, in that case.

Financially speaking, yes. But is financial success the purpose and measure of Brede? Clearly if it were, Philippa could have put the whole operation on a profit making basis. But she doesn't, and they don't ask her to. And Philippa later regrets the part she played in the whole affair.
Poverty is a key component of the life of Brede, deliberately chosen, to the point that they won't even use hot water to wash in. They will not trade spiritual development for financial success. Philippa, who has come from a world in which she has enjoyed financial success is clearly seeking something else, and clearly sees her intervention in this affair as a regrettable reversion to her former way of thinking and acting.
When you enter a convent you bring with you whoever you are. ... Philippa is not a green 22-year-old and they struggle seeing the assets she brings.
I disagree with this way of looking at it. They very clearly do not think in terms of recruiting nuns who bring specific abilities from the outside world. They are fully aware of the abilities that she has when she comes in, and they very explicitly see them as liabilities, not assets, as impediment to spiritual growth, not resources to be deployed for the financial betterment of the community. Philippa is never given work within the community that would exploit these worldly abilities.
Manuel wrote: "I think both Mark (and Mariangel) and Kerstin have their points. I can't decide which of those two interpretations is better. I think that Rumer Godden would go with Mark's position, but I can't be..."
I am with you Manuel. I am largely agreed with Kerstin, but Mark makes several excellent points. I wonder if there isn't a Catholic "both/and" here. I will think on it some more.
I am with you Manuel. I am largely agreed with Kerstin, but Mark makes several excellent points. I wonder if there isn't a Catholic "both/and" here. I will think on it some more.

Well, in the real world, any religious foundation does have to balance concern for its finances with concern for its missions, simply because it can't continue its mission if it is broke. So in the real world there is definitely a both/and.
But Brede is not a real place. The financial crisis caused by Abbess Hester's extravagant spending is a literary device with a literary purpose. And it is clear from the fact that the crisis is resolved by having money fall in their lap, that how they resolve the crisis is not what the novel is interested in. Rather, the novel is interested in how the crisis tests their vocations, Philippa's in particular.
In regard to Philippa, it represents a temptation to revert to her old life and her old behavior rather than continue on the path of spiritual development that she has chosen to follow. Its literary function is to tempt Philippa from her chosen course, something Godden makes explicitly clear when she later has Phillipa speak regret for the part she plays.
This is why I say, as a matter of literary analysis, that it does not matter who is right about the financial options, because the crisis does not exist to be solved, but to tempt various characters from their path.
Mark wrote: "In the real world... But Brede is not a real place. "
I think this would be an apposite argumentation if the book were an allegory. But we are dealing with a realistic novel. I agree with Mark that this was probably Rumer Godden's intention while writing the book. But the way the problem is solved smells too much to deus ex machina, therefore I feel I am brought to consider this solution, interpreted in this way, as a flaw in the book.
I think this would be an apposite argumentation if the book were an allegory. But we are dealing with a realistic novel. I agree with Mark that this was probably Rumer Godden's intention while writing the book. But the way the problem is solved smells too much to deus ex machina, therefore I feel I am brought to consider this solution, interpreted in this way, as a flaw in the book.

Mariangel wrote: "Not a deus ex machina, but providential. I have read of real congregations where something similar happened. It may be the case that the nuns of Stanbrook Abbey had told Godden a related story from..."
True. But I was speaking of literature, not of real life.
True. But I was speaking of literature, not of real life.

In one sense it is definitely deus ex machina. And you are right, it is not about whether people are sometimes saved by money that appears to arrive providentially in real life, because literature is not real life. In literature problems are supposed to be solved by the protagonists, not by God, or the gods, which is literally what deus ex machina means.
But my argument from the beginning has been that the fact that the financial problem is solved deus ex machina is proof that it is not the problem that Godden builds the novel around. (The fact that it is solved long before the end of the book is another indication.)
The main arc of the book -- or, at least, Philippa's main arc -- is whether this woman so used to taking charge and giving orders, and so gifted at doing so, can learn to accept discipline. Philippa's apotheosis is when she obediently accepts the request that she go to Japan, despite desperately not wanting to, and despite this being the one request which, as Godden makes clear, she is actually entitled to refuse.
So is it deus ex machina? Not in the sense that it solves the main problem of the book, because it doesn't. But maybe in the sense that it is used to hustle the financial crisis gambit off stage when its dramatic usefulness has ended. In that sense, maybe it is a flaw, and I did feel a bit that way about it myself when I read it.
But as a writer myself, I ask myself, what else could Godden have done? Godden needed something to tempt Philippa back to her old ways of thinking and acting. That had to be a problem of sufficient scope to tempt that side of Philippa to reemerge, which meant it had to be a serious practical problem with serious consequences. The Mrs. Talbots of the world do not trouble themselves with trivial matters. But because the point of such a problem was always to tempt Philippa, not to take over as the central problem of the book, then it had to be solved in a way that did not involve Philippa using her old skill set.
Many novels have flaws of this sort. I'm not sure that they are really solvable. Life is messier than fiction. Fiction is a lens, not a window. It is designed to focus on one thing, and every lens that focusses on one thing also distorts things around it. Given the reader's natural expectation that novels will be about solving practical problems -- as most of them are -- is is difficult to see how she could have constructed this so that some readers did not get too focused on the solution to the practical problem and miss that it is the spiritual problem that is really at stake here. Certainly she takes some pains to hammer this point home, but the expectation that she if fighting against is very strong, and I can't think what she could have done better here.
Mark wrote: "Certainly she takes some pains to hammer this point home, but the expectation that she if fighting against is very strong, and I can't think what she could have done better here."
For example, the problem could have been solved if Duranski had learned about it and decided not to charge the monastery for his work, after all. Phillippa could have been trying to help solving it in her old way, and this not being finally necessary, she would have got her lesson. There wouldn't have been a deus ex machina but Providence would have acted anyway, only through a human being (and I think God prefers to act on the world through human beings).
For example, the problem could have been solved if Duranski had learned about it and decided not to charge the monastery for his work, after all. Phillippa could have been trying to help solving it in her old way, and this not being finally necessary, she would have got her lesson. There wouldn't have been a deus ex machina but Providence would have acted anyway, only through a human being (and I think God prefers to act on the world through human beings).

Does that really solve it though? It is still a problem solved by an outside force and not the action of the protagonist.
But perhaps this is just a symptom of a broader problem for a Catholic novelist. If you want to include the actions of God in your story, then it is hard to see how you escape the Deus Ex Machina problem. At least if the actions of God solve the main problem of the story (which, even if we regard Philippa's additional money as providential, they don't here).
A story in which the main problem is solved providentially will, of course, be comforting for many readers who want to believe in the possibility of divine interventions to solve their problems. As such, books of that sort will always find a market.
Nonetheless, they don't work as dramas, because drama is about people solving problems themselves. (If you've read Lisa Cron's Wired for Story, there is good support for this in brain science.)
That does not mean that God has to be absent from drama. God is everywhere present in The Power and the Glory, for example, but he does not whisk the whisky priest out of the clutches of the Mexican authorities and onto the ship that could have carried him to safety. If anything, he does the exact opposite, sending the child to call the priest back to attend a woman who asks for him, even though she probably is not dying, thus ensuring that he will be captured and killed. In this, the priest triumphs over all that calls him to abandon his responsibilities and seek his own safety. But that triumph is his. The drama remains his. God could have providentially saved both the woman and the priest. He does not do so. Deus may have been present on the stage from the beginning, but he does not descend in the machine at the end to fix things.

But Brede is not a real place."
This is what I was getting at, they are in the world but not of the world. And yes, Brede is a fictional monastery. However, for the story to be believable it has to be grounded in reality. Otherwise, in my mind at least, you're entering the realm of imaginative fantasy (in the original meaning of the word) where certain realities are deliberately altered. Godden didn't create an alternate reality.
I find this to be a pivotal quote, which I have alluded to before:
‘What is happening?’ ‘What is this that has fallen on Brede? Three! One after the other!’ ‘Not three,’ the Abbess could have told them. ‘This is all one. It stems from Abbess Hester.’ One fault allowed – no, encouraged – can grow in a community like the mustard seed into a monstrous tree. ‘No one lives to herself.’The sin of Abbess Hester has permeated throughout the monastery and has touched everyone. She let the snake in the garden and put the nuns in her charge in harms way both spiritually and existentially. Spiritually speaking, Philippa's temptation pales in comparison. Unlike Abbess Hester whose motive was ambition, her motive was born of charity.
Mark wrote: "God is everywhere present in The Power and the Glory, for example, but he does not whisk the whisky priest out of the clutches of the Mexican authorities and onto the ship that could have carried him to safety."
Exactly. This is what I meant. So "The Power & the Glory" is nearer to my view of this kind of literature than Godden's book (with respect to the question we are discussing).
In fact, in real life it does work like this often. All those Christian martyrs in history, could have been saved by a "deus ex machina" but weren't. And we don't consider them failures. They have been risen to the altars.
Exactly. This is what I meant. So "The Power & the Glory" is nearer to my view of this kind of literature than Godden's book (with respect to the question we are discussing).
In fact, in real life it does work like this often. All those Christian martyrs in history, could have been saved by a "deus ex machina" but weren't. And we don't consider them failures. They have been risen to the altars.

Yes, I think there is some validity to the notion that Abbess Hester is the greater sinner. I think that there is also a reasonable counter argument that lack of prudence is not necessarily a great sin, even though it can have grave consequences. But I also think that it is not our business as readers to sit in judgement on the sins of fictional characters. We are there to understand their struggles and learn from them some deeper appreciation of what it is to be human.
To that end, I would point out is that Abbess Hester is not the protagonist of the novel. She is already on her deathbed when Philippa enters. Arguable, there are multiple protagonists here, and in some sense the community as a whole is the protagonist, but in terms of the novel, Abbess Hester's actions are simply there to create challenges to test the living characters who are our protagonists. Even if Hester's sin is greater, it is Philippa's sin that matters dramatically.
But whether we consider her sin great or small, it is not her sins and temptations that should concern us in the novel, but those of the characters, and not to judge, but to understand.

You are right. Greene does not run into this problem in the way Godden does. None of the temptations of the whisky priest are conveniently whisked off stage half way through the book, and so this distraction that exists in Godden's book (obviously, since we are discussing it at such length) does not exist in The Power and the Glory (which is, undoubtedly, a better book).
One wonders what Greene might have done with this subject matter. The cloister does present an interesting problem that Greene did not have to deal with. The grille shuts out the world. There is no external antagonism. The temptations and the challenges have to come from within. (A save-the-monastery-from-the-wicked-land-developer story would have made a very different book that would not have examined the life that Gooden set out to portray.)
It is a fascinating dramatic problem. It would be interesting to see if other authors have challenged the problems of the cloistered life in a similar fashion. (Should we bring Browning's Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister into this discussion?)
Mark wrote: "To that end, I would point out is that Abbess Hester is not the protagonist of the novel. She is already on her deathbed when Philippa enters."
No, she isn't. When Abbess Hester dies, Philippa has been four years in the monastery. This is one of the changes in the film based on this novel. But I know this is irrelevant. Of course you are right, Abbess Hester is not the protagonist.
But I'm not sure Philippa is the protagonist, in spite of the fact that the film makes her so, and to do that, the script makes changes to the argument, such as conflating Philippa with Dame Maura (in her infatuation with Cecily/Joanna). Philippa disappears from the plot for several long stretches of time, and reappears from time to time. This is not typical of a protagonist.
I think you are right, the community as a whole is the real protagonist. And during some parts, Abbess Catherine is so involved, that she could be said to occupy that position.
No, she isn't. When Abbess Hester dies, Philippa has been four years in the monastery. This is one of the changes in the film based on this novel. But I know this is irrelevant. Of course you are right, Abbess Hester is not the protagonist.
But I'm not sure Philippa is the protagonist, in spite of the fact that the film makes her so, and to do that, the script makes changes to the argument, such as conflating Philippa with Dame Maura (in her infatuation with Cecily/Joanna). Philippa disappears from the plot for several long stretches of time, and reappears from time to time. This is not typical of a protagonist.
I think you are right, the community as a whole is the real protagonist. And during some parts, Abbess Catherine is so involved, that she could be said to occupy that position.
Mark wrote: "(Should we bring Browning's Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister into this discussion?)"
I haven't read it. Do you recommend it?
I haven't read it. Do you recommend it?
Manuel wrote: "Mark wrote: "(Should we bring Browning's Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister into this discussion?)"
I haven't read it. Do you recommend it?"
Oh, I see it's just nine stances. I can read it in no time!
I haven't read it. Do you recommend it?"
Oh, I see it's just nine stances. I can read it in no time!

Ah, yes, you are right. But, of course, the movie leaves out the entire building and finance plot, which should tell us something about its importance.
Mark wrote: "But, of course, the movie leaves out the entire building and finance plot, which should tell us something about its importance."
I think it rather tells us something about what the writers of the script considered important. For me, this part of the plot is one of the most important parts, involving, as it does, not just the financial problem, but also the whole story of Dame Veronica, which covers most of the book, and which was also elided from the film script.
I think it rather tells us something about what the writers of the script considered important. For me, this part of the plot is one of the most important parts, involving, as it does, not just the financial problem, but also the whole story of Dame Veronica, which covers most of the book, and which was also elided from the film script.

True. Dame Veronica is important. More so that then financial problems, I would suggest. And, of course, the writers had to elide all sorts of things to get the story down to movie length. Also, they clearly did not have a big budget, so the building stuff would have been too expensive to film. But I think they made the right choice to focus on the Japanese nuns, because that brings us to Philippa's final act of obedience, which, I maintain, is the most important thing in the story.
Mark wrote: "(Should we bring Browning's Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister into this discussion?)"
I have read it. It's obviously an attack on hypocrisy and pharisaism, set in a monastery, but applicable elsewhere. The "Spanish" qualifier in the title is far-fetched. The name of the monk (Lawrence) is English. The reference to two females speaking outside the convent is also partially English: "Brown" Dolores; "Sanchicha" is not a Spanish name, although Browning probably confused it with Sanchica, a diminutive for Sancha.
I wonder why, when an Englishman tried to point to hypocrisy in religious life, it must nearly always be in Spain.
I have read it. It's obviously an attack on hypocrisy and pharisaism, set in a monastery, but applicable elsewhere. The "Spanish" qualifier in the title is far-fetched. The name of the monk (Lawrence) is English. The reference to two females speaking outside the convent is also partially English: "Brown" Dolores; "Sanchicha" is not a Spanish name, although Browning probably confused it with Sanchica, a diminutive for Sancha.
I wonder why, when an Englishman tried to point to hypocrisy in religious life, it must nearly always be in Spain.

Well the English never were big fans of Spain. So natually everything bad is asociated with Spain, (or bad in their opinion)
Elisabeth wrote: "Well the English never were big fans of Spain. So natually everything bad is asociated with Spain, (or bad in their opinion)"
Right. In fact, it was a religious clash, as Spain was the main defender of Catholicism in Europe, and England was for several centuries anti-Catholic.
Right. In fact, it was a religious clash, as Spain was the main defender of Catholicism in Europe, and England was for several centuries anti-Catholic.

Right. In fact, it was a religious clash, as Spain w..."
Yes, plus of course such things as the Armada, Sir Francis Drake etc... did not help.
Elisabeth wrote: "Manuel wrote: "In fact, it was a religious clash, as Spain was the main defender of Catholicism in Europe, and England was for several centuries anti-Catholic."
Yes, plus of course such things as the Armada, Sir Francis Drake etc... did not help.
Those things were a consequence. The Armada was an attempt to depose the Protestant queen (Elizabeth) as an answer to the execution of the Catholic Mary Stuart. Both Armadas (Spanish and English) were mostly unsuccessful, although the war ended in 1604 slightly in favor of Spain.
Yes, plus of course such things as the Armada, Sir Francis Drake etc... did not help.
Those things were a consequence. The Armada was an attempt to depose the Protestant queen (Elizabeth) as an answer to the execution of the Catholic Mary Stuart. Both Armadas (Spanish and English) were mostly unsuccessful, although the war ended in 1604 slightly in favor of Spain.

Yes, plus of cour..."
Yes, though I don't think the English would say it ended slightly in favour of the Spanish, despite its truth.
Elisabeth wrote: "Yes, though I don't think the English would say it ended slightly in favour of the Spanish, despite its truth."
Yes. In the same way, in the Arc de Triomphe de L'Étoile in Paris the battle of Bailen (in the Spanish Independence War) appears as a French victory, when it was the first defeat suffered by the armies of Napoleon in Europe, and made news at the time for that reason.
And the battle of Qadesh where Ramses II of the Egyptian Empire fought against the Hittite Muwatilli III, was considered to be a victory for the Egyptians, until the hittite documents were deciphered, which gave it as a hittite victory. Current historians think it was a draw.
Yes. In the same way, in the Arc de Triomphe de L'Étoile in Paris the battle of Bailen (in the Spanish Independence War) appears as a French victory, when it was the first defeat suffered by the armies of Napoleon in Europe, and made news at the time for that reason.
And the battle of Qadesh where Ramses II of the Egyptian Empire fought against the Hittite Muwatilli III, was considered to be a victory for the Egyptians, until the hittite documents were deciphered, which gave it as a hittite victory. Current historians think it was a draw.

Yes. In the same way, in the Arc de Triomphe de L'Étoile in Paris ..."
Oh yes I was just watching a lecture on the Egyptians and they mentioned about the Egyptians and Hittites and how both claimed the victory. No one likes to be defeated, victory is much more comfortable than defeat.

The first is one read by the Catholic Thought Group, Ron Hansen's Mariette in Ecstasy. The other was written by a non-Catholic who studied his topic well. Lying Awake by Mark Salzman was praised by The New Yorker and The New York Times Book Review.
With the caveat that I love everything Ron Hansen writes and found Lying Awake a little shallow, this is an overview of how each author created mystery and resolution.
Both novels center on mystical phenomena. Mariette is a beautiful young novice who inexplicably begins to experience the stigmata. Sister John is a Discalced Carmelite, cloistered for more than 25 years. who suddenly starts to have ecstatic visions.
What I had a problem with in Lying Awake was that the eventual source of Sister John's mystical experiences is discovered to be the result of "temporal-lobe epilepsy," and from there it is a very small leap for secularists to reflect on St. Teresa of Avila and even St. Paul.
In contrast, Ron Hansen leaves us with a mystery in Mariette: were her mystical phenomena genuine, or the result of some form of hysteria? (In his book of essays titled A Stay Against Confusion, Hansen says that he wrote the novel with the sincere belief that Mariette's stigmata were authentic.)
Two very different novels, completely dissimilar outcomes, but both taking place within the cloister. Maybe some members of our group know others.

Interesting examples. I know Mariette in Ecstasy. I had not heard of the other. From the description, though, it would seem there is a form of external antagonism in Lying Awake in the form of the doctor and his diagnosis calling the legitimacy of the mystical experience into question. I don't remember if there is an external representative of skepticism in Mariette in Ecstasy but worldly skepticism is again the antagonist.
Of course, there is a form of external skepticism in In This House of Brede as well, a recurrent question from mothers and male admirers of whether the women who enter the cloister are wasting their lives. But Godden never really addresses this as a question. It is simply part of the fabric of life for those entering.
Indeed, it is interesting that Godden never really deals with the subject of Philippa's vocation. The reasons for her going to Brede, are not explored or addressed. The question is never if she will want to go or stay. Her struggle is always the emptying of self that she must do in order to be able to stay. The question in never whether she has a vocation, but whether she can learn to live the vocation she has.
Godden never sets out to defend cloistered religious life, or even to explain its attraction. He focus is on examining what it is like to live in such a community and to adapt oneself to its ways.
In this sense, the antagonist, for each of the nuns, is the self. Which is a remarkable thing for a novel, because in most novel the self is the protagonist.

Sister John faces a devastating choice that only she can make: have surgery in order to cure her debilitating headaches, or do nothing, but live with the awareness that her ecstatic visions are the result of a medical condition that will worsen over time. Lovers of Dostoyevsky will find that he is treated with great respect and care, but also looked at in the light of the same noonday glare as Sister John.

I think you're right. The external skepticism is an antagonistic force, but it is secondary. The main conflict is obviously internal in that book.
Mariette in Ecstasy is somewhat different, if I recall correctly, because there is no struggle in Mariette -- is is about the struggle of the community to decide if they accept that she is genuine. In that respect it is, like In This House of Brede, a novel in which in many ways the protagonist the the community rather than one person and the central character -- Phillipa or Mariette -- presents different kinds of challenges to the life of the community.

The dramatic tension in Mariette in Ecstasy comes from within the cloistered community, the conflict is internal. (Mariette’s father makes an appearance, but he only augments the mystery; the story would stand on its own without him.)
“Mother Saint-Raphael, the new prioress, is troubled by the stigmata not only because Mariette’s fame is hurting the tranquillity of the cloister, but also because she can’t understand why God would give Christ’s wounds in such a way. . . An investigation is begun within the convent of Our Lady of Sorrows to find out whether Mariette is the real thing, or a schemer full of trickery, or a madwoman confusing sexual yearning with religious ecstasy.”
(Ron Hansen, A Stay Against Confusion, p.189)

It is the old tension of the validity of a vocation to the religious life and/or the priesthood vs. marriage. Millions of men and women live celibate lives for various reasons and we never think much about it. She is a widow, he never found the right one, she is "married" to her job, etc. But when you publicly enter into a vow that specifically excludes marriage, that becomes a threat to the "normal" order of things.



Fonch wrote: "Hello i have concluded the book :-). John Paul I in his book "Distinguished gentlemen" picked Up an anecdote of Saint Bernard Clairvaux when he said his opinion about he is the best candidate to be a Pope..."
Jill is right, Fonch. You have misrepresented what Bernard said in his treaty Sancti Bernardi Abbatis De Consideratione Ad Eugenium Papam Libri V Juxta Editionem Ad Ss. D.n. Clementem Xi Dicatam Adduntur...... to Eugene III. In this writing, he insists on the need for interior life and prayer for those who have the greatest responsibilities in the Church. He wrote about the danger of getting carried away by affairs of state and neglecting prayer and realities on high.
Benedict XVI spoke about St. Bernard and mentioned this treatise in his General Audience, October 21, 2009: http://www.vatican.va/content/benedic...
Jill is right, Fonch. You have misrepresented what Bernard said in his treaty Sancti Bernardi Abbatis De Consideratione Ad Eugenium Papam Libri V Juxta Editionem Ad Ss. D.n. Clementem Xi Dicatam Adduntur...... to Eugene III. In this writing, he insists on the need for interior life and prayer for those who have the greatest responsibilities in the Church. He wrote about the danger of getting carried away by affairs of state and neglecting prayer and realities on high.
Benedict XVI spoke about St. Bernard and mentioned this treatise in his General Audience, October 21, 2009: http://www.vatican.va/content/benedic...

Fonch wrote: "Hello i have concluded the book :-). John Paul I in his book "Distinguished gentlemen" picked Up an anecdote of Saint Bernard Clairvaux when he said his opinion about he is the best candidate to be a Pope he said that It was not the most pius, and the wisest. It was the person Who had abilities to rule"
I see, you meant you had read this in Albino Luciani's book "Illustrissimi" (in English "To the Illustrious Ones"). In this book the man who was later John Paul I writes a letter to several "illustrious" people, one of them St. Bernard of Clairvaux, But you have slightly misrepresented what he says. Luciani quotes from a letter written by St. Bernard (nr. 24 in his Epistolary) to the cardenals electing a new Pope. There were three candidates:
The first candidate is a saint? Let him pray for us (oret pro nobis)... The second is learned?... Let him teach us (doceat nos)... Is the third prudent? Let him rule us and be Pope (Iste regat nos)."
You had not mentioned the word "prudent", which is essential in this context.
I see, you meant you had read this in Albino Luciani's book "Illustrissimi" (in English "To the Illustrious Ones"). In this book the man who was later John Paul I writes a letter to several "illustrious" people, one of them St. Bernard of Clairvaux, But you have slightly misrepresented what he says. Luciani quotes from a letter written by St. Bernard (nr. 24 in his Epistolary) to the cardenals electing a new Pope. There were three candidates:
The first candidate is a saint? Let him pray for us (oret pro nobis)... The second is learned?... Let him teach us (doceat nos)... Is the third prudent? Let him rule us and be Pope (Iste regat nos)."
You had not mentioned the word "prudent", which is essential in this context.

Fonch wrote: "I have Read this book a long years ago but i think that the third category is the closest to Sor Philipa Talbot. My memory are not in his best moment :-)."
But Fonch, we were discussing whether Philippa did well to offer her services to help solve a financial problem. That is not the same as being "prudent," as St. Bernard advised for the election of a Pope. In fact, it looks like Rumer Godden thinks Philippa was not prudent when offering her "professional" services. We may not agree with Rumer Godden about this, but I think St. Bernard's advise is in a different category.
But Fonch, we were discussing whether Philippa did well to offer her services to help solve a financial problem. That is not the same as being "prudent," as St. Bernard advised for the election of a Pope. In fact, it looks like Rumer Godden thinks Philippa was not prudent when offering her "professional" services. We may not agree with Rumer Godden about this, but I think St. Bernard's advise is in a different category.

But Fonch, we were discuss..."
I write this message in Spanish, but I translate it into English with the help of Microsoft Word thank you very much. In this house of Brede I have read it in a hurry and in a hurry because of my challenge, but it seems wrong to ask Sister for help. Philipa Talbot. Let us note that she has been a great professional and an executive of great success, and because of the reckless reforms, or the visionary capacity of the previous abbess, that each draw his conclusions. In my opinion the abbey was indebted and it was used to those who could solve the problem. The logical thing would have been either to mortgage, or to ask the diocese for help, but praying is not just going to solve the problem. There is Spanish saying that God begging and with the deck giving. Let's assume that I have an exam tomorrow and I pray a lot to pass. Chances are, if you just prayed, you'll stop. Well, it's the same here. You have a person with great financial knowledge it would be a waste to waste his talent to employ him for the sake of the Abbey, and for the greater glory of God. I give another example the case of Father Brown and Flambeau in the case of The Blue Cross How could he beat him? Thanks to his contact with the world and that former companions of his repentant today priests helped him with his advice to subtract the package from Flambeau and taught him about the hissing of the donkey or the marks. One must not go into closure to escape the world, but because he loves him and to become more involved in him.
Perhaps what does not convince me is the ruby thing, which is certainly possible because miracles happen and there is a benevolent providence, but chances are that the Savoy princess would not have deposited a ruby on the abbess, and that the nuns would have had to leave this problem using their own resources.
Fonch wrote: "I write this message in Spanish..."
Yes, this is a good summary of one of the two positions in this debate. The opposite position has been presented by Mark, who thinks that Philippa's offering of her help, and its acceptance by Abbess Catherine, was a mistake. And I think Mark is right when he says that Godden's intention was nearer Mark's position than Fonch's.
What about my own position? I see good reasons for both sides. On the one hand, we could offer the advise given by St. Pius of Pietrelcina: Pray, hope, and don't worry. On the other hand the Spanish saying Fonch has quoted: Pray to God, but use the hammer.
I think both things are compatible, and in fact can be the same. I think the rule is: we must do as much as we can to solve our problems, but we must put all our trust in God rather than ourselves, without waiting for special grants that would solve our problems miraculously or providentially. But if they happen, we can accept God's special help thankfully.
So my conclusion is that both Philippa and Abbess Catherine did what they should do, although God decided to help them out of their problem in an easier way.
I have a personal story to offer. When I was in my early twenties, I made a promise to God to give a donation to the poor for the amount of 412 pesetas. I had my savings of several previous months, which amounted to a little above that figure. But then, suddenly, I had to help at home for a special need, and was left with no savings at all.
Then I tried to solve the problem in Philippa's way: I made plans to save more money from my monthly allowance, and calculated that it would take me about six months to recover the 412 pesetas. And then suddenly, out of the blue, on the next Sunday I won a prize at the football pool betting, for the amount of 420 pesetas. As my participation in the betting had cost me 8 pesetas, my net winnings were 412 pesetas, the exact amount I needed to fulfil my promise.
I have always thought that God took into account my intentions, and then told me: "No need to make that effort. I'll give you the total amount now, so that you can pay your debt with me".
But I've never thought that I did wrong to make those calculations and plans to solve the problem in a "rational" way. So I cannot think that Philippa did wrong either.
Yes, this is a good summary of one of the two positions in this debate. The opposite position has been presented by Mark, who thinks that Philippa's offering of her help, and its acceptance by Abbess Catherine, was a mistake. And I think Mark is right when he says that Godden's intention was nearer Mark's position than Fonch's.
What about my own position? I see good reasons for both sides. On the one hand, we could offer the advise given by St. Pius of Pietrelcina: Pray, hope, and don't worry. On the other hand the Spanish saying Fonch has quoted: Pray to God, but use the hammer.
I think both things are compatible, and in fact can be the same. I think the rule is: we must do as much as we can to solve our problems, but we must put all our trust in God rather than ourselves, without waiting for special grants that would solve our problems miraculously or providentially. But if they happen, we can accept God's special help thankfully.
So my conclusion is that both Philippa and Abbess Catherine did what they should do, although God decided to help them out of their problem in an easier way.
I have a personal story to offer. When I was in my early twenties, I made a promise to God to give a donation to the poor for the amount of 412 pesetas. I had my savings of several previous months, which amounted to a little above that figure. But then, suddenly, I had to help at home for a special need, and was left with no savings at all.
Then I tried to solve the problem in Philippa's way: I made plans to save more money from my monthly allowance, and calculated that it would take me about six months to recover the 412 pesetas. And then suddenly, out of the blue, on the next Sunday I won a prize at the football pool betting, for the amount of 420 pesetas. As my participation in the betting had cost me 8 pesetas, my net winnings were 412 pesetas, the exact amount I needed to fulfil my promise.
I have always thought that God took into account my intentions, and then told me: "No need to make that effort. I'll give you the total amount now, so that you can pay your debt with me".
But I've never thought that I did wrong to make those calculations and plans to solve the problem in a "rational" way. So I cannot think that Philippa did wrong either.

Yes, this is a good summary of one of the two positions in this debate. The opposite position has been presented by Mark, who thinks that Philippa..."
I think it's a good summary of the two positions and I can't say anything against it. It would be a mistake to deny God's participation and I too have had experiences similar to those of my friend Professor Alfonseca.