Daily Archives: September 15, 2011

The American (2010)

Thursday, September 15, 2011

The American

features George Clooney as

Jack

, a figure of some mystery to those he encounters. Jack is a “good man” in the view of a prostitute with whom he finds himself involved, but someone “with a secret.”

Jack finds himself in Abruzzo, a small community in the Italian countryside. Pavel, his contact, has arranged for him to construct a weapon for another mysterious contact, an assassin named Mathilde. While in Abruzzo, Jack is befriended by Benedetto, an elderly Catholic priest, and Clara, a prostitute.

In discussions about The American at IMDB, the first board had the heading: “Top Five of Worst Movies Ever.” Ironically, the person posting remarked that until The American, the worst he’d seen was Babel. In fact though, The American was, I imagine, one of the better films of 2010, and certainly the best I saw.

The American, I found, was very Christian in its themes (although not remotely Puritan in its depiction of the human body). The film evidenced to me how hope or love can bring healing to the human person.


During a conversation with Jack, Fr. Benedetto drops the line: “A man can be rich if he has God in his heart.” In his encyclical Spe Salvi , the Pope discuses how hope heals, not by curing a person from his or her burdens, but by allowing that person to face his or her present with the conviction that the present leads towards a goal, and that this goal justifies the efforts of one’s journey.

By a person experiencing something of what awaits, hope allows a person to disassociate healthily from his or her present situation. Hope frees a person from what might otherwise hold him or her down. Seeing Jack as a man desiring peace, Fr. Benedetto observes that those seeking peace, often have much sinning in their history, but through his friendship with Jack, Fr. Benedetto allows Jack the possibility of disassociating himself with his past, and of freeing himself from what might otherwise overwhelm him.

Jack’s relationship with Clara emerges as central to this movement. In another encyclical, this time Deus Caritas Est, the Pope discusses the movement towards self-abandonment, and how a love which heals consists in the movement beyond one’s own selfish character, and beyond submission to one’s own instinct, towards a desire for the other’s good.

When Jack says, after some “activity” with Clara, that he has “come to get pleasure, not give it,” we see in his words a certain baseness, but how, eventually, through Clara’s love of him, and her desire for his betterment, the possibility exists for his own transformation.

Ultimately, The American is a story holding out the possibility of redemption, and those are the best sorts.

Here’s a trailer.

K.

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The American (2010)

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JCVD (2008)

Thursday, September 15, 2011

JCVD unfolds largely in the French language, and is the work of the French Tunisian Mabrouk El Mechri. Mistaken by Belgian police as being responsible for a robbery-gone-wrong (and subsequent hostage-taking), Jean-Claude Van Damme, who plays himself, finds himself being used by the trio of real robbers as the “face” of their crime.

There is nothing particularly remarkable in the sound of this story-line, and Van Damme’s inclusion would normally be motivation enough for the viewer to find something else to watch. Having said this — and here I am not pulling from The Onion — JCVD deserves a viewing.

It’s a pretty good script, and Van Damme’s performance is, believe it or not, superb. Time magazine goes so far as to describe his performance (as far as 2008 performances go) as second only to Heath Ledger as the Joker.

What makes JCVD work is its treatment of Van Damme. The film is a self-parody of sorts. Every aspect of Van Damme’s life is placed under scrutiny: He says worse things about himself, critic Roger Ebert notes, than anything “critics would dream of saying, and the effect is shockingly truthful.”

Van Damme has no money, and he is being passed over for work. Within the first few scenes, we find him at a custody hearing for his daughter. When the Judge asks the girl who she would rather live with, she says “every time my dad is on a TV show my friends make fun of me.” It hard to fault such friends…

Here’s a snippet from a conversation between Van Damme, and Arthur, a robber star-struck by Van Damme:

Arthur: Got any new projects?

Van Damme: Not for now.

Arthur: I saw a thing on the web, what’s it called?

Van Damme: Purple. Purple Amulet.

Arthur: What about that?

Van Damme: Steven Seagal got that part

Arthur: What?

Van Damme: He got that part.

Arthur: Steven Seagal? You’re ten times better.

Van Damme: Well, he cut of his couette.

Arthur: His what?

Van Damme: His couette.

Arthur: Couette?

Van Damme: His ponytail. For the first time.

Arthur: Oh, I see. That’s a tough one.

Two of the robbers, the psychotic Carradine and the somewhat likeable Arthur, steal a number of scenes with their strange banter and uneasy relationship. Much of the dialogue is excellent, and its hard not to smile when an elderly taxi-lady lauches into an extended monologue chastising Van Damme for telling her he is too tired to talk.

You might find JCVD even occasionally touching. Even if you don’t, should Van Damme have found himself within the best 250 preformances of 2008 (let alone the second best, according to Time), that, I think, would have been reason enough to give this a viewing.

Here’s a trailer:

JCVD

.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

K.

Link:  

JCVD (2008)

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Biutiful (2011): A Review

Thursday, September 15, 2011




Director Alejandro González Iñárritu


Far from exhausting what I would like to say about Biutiful, given its DVD release yesterday, and given my now having watched it for a second time, I’d like to offer a few thoughts.

Biutiful follows Uxbal, a complex man who makes his living in the underworld of Barcelona, Spain. On one hand, he participates in the exploitation of immigrants, but on the other hand, he seems not indifferent to their plight. One could say that Uxbal feels for them, but one would have to hold this in tension with what Uxbal nonetheless does.

Uxbal is father of two small children, and the husband of an unstable wife. Discovering that he has only months to live, Uxbal seeks, among other things, reconciliation with his estranged wife, to be remembered by his children, and to raise enough money to ensure their security after he dies.


Javier Bardem (perhaps best remembered as Chigurh in No Country for Old Men) portrays Uxbal. Apparently, the Oscar nomination he received was the first to go to an actor preforming entirely in the Spanish language. While describing his own performance as “exhausting,” Bardem claims not to regret accepting the role. He speaks of his admiration for Uxbal’s “forgiveness [and] compassion, those things that the character has to bring from the very bottom of himself, to understand the world he is in, to make it a little better of a world for his kids.”

Iñárritu, that “almost unreasonably talented Mexican filmmaker“ (according to Ebert), finds in Biutiful his fourth major film. In his three previous three, he experimented with the way in which his narrative would unfold. Amores Perros, for example, finds three stories occurring simultaneously, while 21 Grams also has three stories but ones which move back and forth in time. In Babel, Ebert sees Iñárritu in “full command his technique,” but here in Biutiful, we follow one central character in a fairly straightforward and chronological manner.

Apparently Biutiful received a nine-minute standing ovation at Cannes. If you read the reactions people had to Biutiful, some note how in the theatres after the film ended, a good many simply stayed silently sitting in their seats for some time.

One of the great strengths consistently present in Iñárritu’s work is his ability to preserve the dignity of his characters, even the dignity of those who do reprehensible things. His past collaborator, Guillermo Arriaga, puts it best when he says that “as a writer you have to love your characters, even if you hate them. If you love the characters you hate, you’ll make them believable.”

I find this reminiscent of the following narration in Graham Greene’s The Power in the Glory: “When you visualized a man or woman carefully, you could always begin to feel pity—that was a quality God’s image carried with it. When you saw the lines at the corner of the eyes, the shape of the mouth, how the hair grew, it was impossible to hate. Hate was just a failure of imagination.”

So many filmmakers have suspended their imagination. Iñárritu’s integrity, on the other hand, appears uncompromising. Biutiful made 24 million dollars, which is to say, nothing, but in exchange, a film which challenges (and respects) its audience emerges.

K.

For those unfamiliar with the film, two trailers can be found here and here. You might also consider the two-part interview (part I; part II) with Iñárritu wherein he describes his vision for the film. Finally, here is a scene of Uxbal with his daughter Ana.

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Biutiful (2011): A Review

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No Country for Old Men (2007)

Thursday, September 15, 2011





Compared to what? The bubonic plague?

The novels of American author Cormac McCarthy are on my Summer reading list. His earliest published work is

The Orchard Keeper

, from 1965, and his most recent is

The Road

, from 2006 (which earned him a Pulitzer Prize). Increasingly cited as a candidate for the Noble Prize for Literature, McCarthy’s 1985 work

Blood Meridian

has been identified by literary critic Harold Bloom as one of the finest novels of the century.

In recent years, two of his works, No Country for Old Men and The Road, have been adapted into, what I would consider, excellent films. I’ve spoken here of The Road, and in this post I’d like to introduce the Coen Brothers’ adaptation of No Country through the lens of a theme common to both works.

But, first, a summary: No Country, in case you have not yet seen it, follows Ed Tom Bell, a Sheriff in a Texan county along the United States-Mexico border. Sheriff Bell wants to bring Llewellyn Moss to safety, after Moss, a veteran of the Vietnam war, has stumbled upon a drug deal gone wrong, and made the decision to leave the scene with a satchel containing several million dollars. Moss is being pursued by a group of Mexicans connected with the drug deal, and by Chigurh, who has been hired to reclaim the money.

In both No Country and The Road, there is concerned reflection on the nature of God’s interaction in human affairs. Perhaps you remember the following conversation between Eli and the Man (from The Road):

Eli: Supposing you were the last man alive?
Man: How would you know that? That you were the last man alive?
Eli: Well I don’t guess you’d know it. You’d just be it.
Man: Maybe God would know?
Eli: If there is a god up there he would have turned his back on us by now. And whoever made humanity will find no humanity here. No sir. No sir.

No Country, like The Road, does not to force conclusions about God’s involvement, but as to whether God might have turned his back on humanity, we do find the Sheriff telling another: “I always thought when I got older that God would come into my life in some way. He didn’t.”

Who has come into the Sheriff’s life is Chigurh, the very personification of evil. Trying to learn something of this Chigurh, one man asks just how dangerous is he? The response: Compared to what? The bubonic plague? While no match for Chigurh, one gets a sense that the Sheriff would like to have a bigger picture into which he can place Chigurh, and into which he can understand the evil personified in Chigurh as not being the last word.

Against the explanations of the Sheriff has not experienced God because there is no God to experience or, God has turned his back on humanity and awaits its self-destruction, I would like to identify two clues pointing towards McCarthy’s vision (although, having not read his larger body of work, I am open to modifying my position). First, recall the Prologue to M. Night Shyamalan’s Lady in the Water, and that image of the severed link between humans and those who live in the water, and how even despite human violence, those in the water are persistent in their attempts to again to reach the humans. Is McCarthy’s world one wherein God’s continued interaction is found in, for example, fleeting gestures of goodness? Are these God’s persistent attempts to reach humans? In The Road, after all, McCarthy does gives the concept of “the fire,” and place in the Man’s mouth the remarkable claim that if his own son is not “the word of God then God never spoke.”

Second, in No Country, although the Sheriff is no match for the evil personified in Chigurh, the Sheriff’s dream, featuring both himself and his father, could be seen as capturing the existence of another reality: “It was like we was both back in older times and I was on horseback goin’ through the mountains of a night. Goin’ through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on goin’. Never said nothing’ goin’ by. He just rode on past … and he had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. ‘Bout the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was goin’ on ahead and he was fixin’ to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up.”

Is No Country an invitation to share in the pessimism of its author? It’s possible, I suppose, but I think enough clues exist to justify the possiblility of hope.

K.

Original article:  

No Country for Old Men (2007)

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Pastoral Letter for Life

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Douglas Crosby

Bishop

Most Reverend Douglas Crosby, O.M.I., D.D.

Sep15

Pastoral Letter for Life

September 15, 2011

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ in the Hamilton Diocese,

Sunday, October 2nd is designated as Respect Life Sunday, a day on which we are asked to think about the value of each human person, regardless of their age or personal challenges. From conception until natural death, we recognize that each person is created in God’s own image.

The measure of a life is not found in exterior attributes, such as power, beauty, wealth or athleticism, but in understanding that life itself is precious. We as Catholics are called to look beyond any secular view of life and to recognize our call to protect and care for every person. As Pope Benedict has said, “human life must be defended and supported at every stage. No-one, in fact, is master of his own existence; rather, we are all called to safeguard and respect life, from the moment of conception until natural end”.

Each one of us gives witness to the value of life: by the support we offer to those around us, by our engagement in life issues in our society and by our prayers, hoping that one day we can achieve a universal understanding of the dignity of every individual.

The call to promote a respect for life falls to all who understand that life is valuable, despite struggles, imperfections and even illness; that each person has something to contribute to our world; and that we must promote life so that every person is protected.

On October 2nd, National Life Chain Sunday offers us one such opportunity. Thousands of people across the country will stand at busy intersections from 2:30 to 3:30 pm holding signs reminding people that abortion is harmful to both mothers and children. In silence and prayer, people will stand in solidarity for life. You may wish to contact your local Right to Life organization for more information and to find out how you can join in this initiative.

We also have in our Diocese, in Guelph, Kitchener/Waterloo and Oakville, the opportunity to engage in a campaign called ’40 Days for Life’ from Sept. 28th to Nov. 6th. The campaign is made up of three key components: 1) Prayer and fasting: inviting people of faith to join together for 40 days of fervent prayer and fasting for an end to abortion; 2) Peaceful Vigil: standing for life through a 40-day peaceful public witness outside hospitals where abortions are performed; 3) Community Outreach: taking a positive, upbeat pro-life message to our cities.

You can find out more by searching “40 days for Life” on the Internet.These are but two of the many ways we can take a stand for life. Prayers, donations to pro-life agencies, support and caring for the ill and elderly are all ways that we can uphold the dignity of life. Life is God’s greatest gift; we must nurture and protect it from conception until natural death. Please take some time to discern where God might be calling you to engage in the promotion of life in our Diocese.

Sincerely in Christ and Mary Immaculate,

(Most Rev.) Douglas Crosby, OMI
Bishop of Hamilton

Excerpt from: 

Pastoral Letter for Life

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Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

Thursday, September 15, 2011

I confess to not remembering whether, as a child, I was read Where the Wild Things Are. Perhaps I was, but perhaps not. In any event, the nine sentences penned by Maurice Sendak (almost fifty years ago) have since been put to screen by Spike Jonze.

Max is a lonely eight year old boy who inhabits two seemingly different worlds. The first he shares with his mother and his sister, both of whom incur his wrath in the opening few scenes. After incidents with each, Max, decked out in a wolf costume, runs away.

Emotionally, he enters into the second world he inhabits, and here exist the wild things. These playful monsters have a propensity for violence, and when Max first encounters them, they contemplate eating him. Declaring himself to be a king from another world, Max convinces the wild things of his power to make things right. Carol asks “well, you know, what about loneliness?” to which Douglas, another wild thing, asks whether Max will “keep out all the sadness?”


The presence of loneliness and sadness indicate that the two worlds Max inhabits are only superficially different. Max’s great concern as king is how he can make everything okay between the wild things. When Carol finds himself in conflict with the others, and notes how everybody is mad at him, the best Max can do is appeal to his own experiences of having people mad at him. Quick solutions do not exist even here.

One of the more curious scenes occurs quite early while Max is in science class. He listens as his teacher describes how essential the sun is for life. The teacher observes that “like all things” the sun will die, and when it does it will envelop and consume the surrounding planets, and the solar system will go dark. So as to reassure his eight-year old audience, the teacher informs that long before the human race will likely have fallen extinct as a result of any number of calamities, which he then goes on to list.

In the world Max shares with the wild things, Carol picks up on this same all-things-pass theme. Touring Max through his kingdom, Carol observes in a more desert-like setting that “this part of your kingdom’s not so great. This used to be all rock and now it’s sand. And then one day it’s gonna be dust. And then the whole island will be dust and then I don’t even know what comes after dust.”

Particularly memorable is that moment when Max admits to one of the wild things that he is not actually a king. The wild thing remarks that he was never even sure a king existed who could do things like deal with loneliness and keep out all the sadness. Yet crippling anxiety or despair need not follow. Realities are present which make existence more stable and secure, although they are interestingly found not in monarchy but in motherhood. After yet another fight between the wild things, Max, realizing he cannot make things right, simply says to one of them: “I wish you guys had a mom.” It seems that it is in the experience of motherly love, rather than in the immediate elimination of sadness or loneliness, that a person can move toward a more authentic mode of existence.

Where the Wild Things Are (you can watch a trailer here) is not necessarily appropriate for the child you might be reading Sendak’s nine sentences to, but it’s a thought provoking piece that catches its viewer by surprise, and raises concerns that a person will have to encounter at some point.

K.

Source:  

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

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Seven Pounds (2008)

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Seven Pounds opens in intriguing fashion. Ben Thomas has called an emergency operator:

I need an ambulance.
9212 West Third Street in Los Angeles?
That’s room number 2.
What’s the emergency?
There’s been a suicide.
Who’s the victim?
I am.

Next comes an earlier moment in Thomas’ life. We hear Thomas’ voice-over narration: “In seven days, God created the world. And in seven seconds, I shattered mine.”

As we follow Thomas around, we find him using the credentials of a tax-man to seek out genuinely good and decent people. Once convinced that the persons he is investigating are truly good, Thomas sets upon dramatically bettering their state of life. To illustrate, Thomas approaches a middle-aged Latina woman who is living with her abusive boyfriend, and, for what appears to be no apparent reason, Thomas offers to help her and her two children escape. After being beaten on a later occasion, she phones Thomas for help. Thomas leaves her the keys and deed to his beach-side home, and moves into a cheap hotel.

We don’t really know why Thomas is doing what is doing. However, Will Smith’s performance as Ben Thomas is such that a good range of emotion is conveyed, and I think because of the quality of Smith’s performance, audiences don’t mind following along even if they don’t immediately know why Thomas is doing what he is doing.

IMDB advertises two taglines for Seven Pounds. They couldn’t be more different. The first calls upon viewers to “experience the most extraordinary story of the holiday season,” but this gives the impression that we’re being invited into another Pursuit of Happyness (an inspirational picture brought to life two years previous by Seven Pounds director Gabriele Muccino, and Will Smith).

The second tagline reads: “Seven Names. Seven Strangers. One Secret.” Better, and while not necessarily that “extraordinary story of the holiday season,” I think this film’s treatment of themes of guilt and atonement can allow viewers to genuinely experience something meaningful in Seven Pounds.

While Thomas takes very seriously the implications of his actions, he is unable to open himself to grace, and seems not to believe he can be forgiven for whatever it was that happened in those “seven seconds.”

After reading Graham Greene’s The Heart of the Matter, Greene’s friend Evelyn Waugh took issue with Scobie, one of Greene’s characters. Unsure as to whether Greene was sanctioning the actions of Scobie, Waugh argued that the actions of Scobie were either a “very loose poetical expression” or “mad blasphemy.” Rather, Greene wrote in response, the actions of Scobie simply evidenced “how muddled a mind full of good will could become when once ‘off the rails.’”

Seven Pounds excellently documents, even if it does not intend to, the muddled mind of Ben Thomas. To illustrate, consider love. Love is not simply the self-less being and doing for another. Love is also the allowing of oneself to be loved (Benedict writes in Deus Caritas Est that “anyone who wishes to give love must also receive love as a gift”). I think this is Thomas’ dilemma: He graces the lives of others, and that grace dramatically transforms such persons, but he can only extend a sort of grace, and he is only extending because he does not know to receive grace and allow that grace to transform and heal his own guilt-ridden life.

K.

Original article - 

Seven Pounds (2008)

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Pour une mort pleine de vie

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Méditation sur la deuxième lecture

24e dimanche du temps ordinaire, Année A

Romains 14, 7-9

Nous avons tendance à imaginer la vie comme traçant une courbe dont le sommet serait atteint entre les âges de vingt et de quarante ans. Après cela, l’énergie diminuerait, les facultés faibliraient, les capacités de renouvellement s’amenuiseraient. Tranquillement, selon cette perspective, nous descendrions vers notre mort. Celle-ci ne serait que le point final d’une courbe descendante, l’effacement de l’être dans le silence et le néant.

La science a un mot pour dire cette dispersion graduelle de l’énergie : l’entropie. Dans sa phase ascendante, toute vie lutte contre l’entropie alors qu’elle se développe et se perfectionne. Mais la science nous dit que cette lutte est ultimement futile, que l’entropie gagne toujours puisqu’il est inévitable que la vie se désagrège lentement. La mort serait donc inévitable.

Saint Paul, lui, nous présente une vision bien différente. Il propose que la vie est une montée continuelle vers Dieu, une ascension vers le divin. Même la mort fait partie de cette montée, même la mort est prise dans cet élan dynamique qui nous porte vers le Seigneur. Selon Paul, la mort n’est pas l’aboutissement d’un processus de dégradation, mais l’étape ultime d’un processus de croissance.

« Nous vivons pour le Christ, nous mourrons pour le Christ » : le français ne traduit pas tout à fait le sens de Paul. Dans le grec original, l’expression sous-entend une direction, un mouvement. Le sens de Paul est plutôt celui-ci : la mort, comme la vie, est un élan dynamique de l’être tendu vers le Christ.

La mort est un élan dynamique? C’est loin d’être évident. Tout semble contredire cette affirmation. Et pourtant, lorsqu’on la voit dans la perspective de la foi, la mort prend une autre figure. Elle s’intègre au mouvement de la vie qui s’élance vers le Christ, elle en est comme une apogée et un point tournant. L’élan disparaît peut-être à notre regard mais il se poursuit dans l’éternité de Dieu.

Par contre, Paul nous rappelle que cela n’est pas automatique. Il y a un choix à faire pour qu’il en soit ainsi. Nous pourrions choisir une autre direction pour notre vie : nous pourrions choisir de vivre seulement pour nous-mêmes. La vie centrée sur soi aboutit à une mort centrée sur soi. Dans cette circonstance, la vision scientifique s’avère vraie : la mort ne sera que les points de suspension ajoutés à existence sans élan, sans ouverture à l’Autre. L’entropie aura alors le dernier mot.

Mais la résurrection du Christ nous libère de cette fatalité. Si nous vivons notre vie centrée sur le Christ, si nous faisons de notre vie un élan vers l’Autre et vers les autres, alors notre mort sera comme un tremplin nous projetant vers l’infini, plein d’énergie et d’amour.

This article: 

Pour une mort pleine de vie

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St. Lawrence the Martyr — Scarborough’s New Home for the Traditional Latin Mass

Thursday, September 15, 2011

F

ifteen years ago, under the former indult of Ecclesia Dei Adflicta, the usus antiquior found a home in the Toronto suburb of Scarborough and just a stones throw from St. Augustine’s Seminary. For a short-time in 2008-2010 this was the home of the Toronto Apostolate of the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter.

The Mass in the Extraordinary Form at this Church was always a struggle. While 1:00 in the afternoon was not the best time, it was not the biggest obstacle to growth. The location was out of the way and hard to reach on public transit and parking was non-existent. Moreover, what was lacking was a clear sense of parish life and community which was common with the old “indult” situation. The people of St. Theresa parish had little to zero to do with the strangers that came for the Latin Mass at 1:00 and vice-versa. I can recall even one Sunday as Schola Master that a visiting priest, was literally yelling at us to get out so he could “perform a baptism.”

Thankfully, those days are now over.

After the departure of the Fraternity of St. Peter, a diocesan priest was appointed as Chaplain to this congregation in addition to his regular parish duties in Richmond Hill, 45 minutes away.

In July, the Archdiocese of Toronto made its annual pastor changes. From St. Elizabeth Seton in Newmarket to St. Lawrence the Martyr in Scarborough came a Pastor friendly to the traditional Mass. So friendly in fact, that every Friday night and Saturday morning, the Mass was celebrated at his former parish by the priest who served long at St. Theresa and still celebrates every Sunday at St. Patrick’s in Schomberg. St. Lawrence the Martyr on Lawrence Avenue is only about a ten minute drive from St. Theresa’s. With this it the Archdiocese of Toronto saw the light and the the priest from Richmond Hill is now based at St. Lawrence the Martyr as well.

Now, in addition to the Toronto Oratory Church of St. Vincent de Paul west of Yonge Street the people who desire the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite in the east end of Toronto now have a welcoming Pastor, a beautiful church, a resident priest, parking, public transit, a church hall and can truly become part of a parish community something so desperately lacking previously at St. Theresa Shrine.

The Mass at St. Lawrence the Martyr is Sundays at 1:00 as well as a weekly schedule. The Sunday Mass is celebrated as a Missa Lecta or Read Mass; what is frequently referred to as Low Mass. However, there is music provided, though not the complete Ordinary and not the Propers as this is not a Missa Cantata (Sung Mass) commonly referred to as a High Mass.

According to the most recent rubrics from 1962, music for the Missa Lecta is permitted in the following manner.

Processional: Organ or a hymn in Latin or English
Kyrie; but it must be a short setting
Offertory: Organ or a hymn in Latin or English but it must reflect sacrifice or offering.
Sanctus ; a short setting
Agnus Dei, a short setting
Communion: Organ or a hymn in Latin or English but it must be oriented to the Eucharist or thanksgiving
Recessional: Organ or hymn in Latin or English

St. Lawrence the Martyr was built in 1960 and is the last of an era. Looking at the church’s exterior one can see that the Italian residents of this part of Scarborough used a design that they would have known from Italy. Yellow brick, red tiled roof, two towers; it is clearly the most beautiful church east of the downtown. Along with St. Benedict’s in Etobicoke, it is one of the finest churches built in the Archdiocese of Toronto in the post-war period. As in any Italian parish, expect beautiful and abundant statues and lots of terrazzo and marble. While if one looks carefully at the floor of the sanctuary the design shows where the High Altar once stood but don’t let that dissuade you. The Tabernacle is in the middle on a beautiful Altar of Repose.The new sanctuary floor blends wonderfully with the original terrazzo, the colours and marble are uniquely blended. The Altar of Sacrifice is of marble and solid and of exquisite design with a matching Ambo or Pulpit of dignity and beauty. The acoustic is lively, very lively and there are some interesting notes on the matter regarding the new organ.

The Archbishop of Toronto, Thomas Collins is deserving of the prayers and thanks of those who desire to worship in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite in this part of Toronto as does the most welcoming Pastor, Father Roy Farrell. The parish is also assisted by Father by Associate Pastor, Father Ion Bolog with Father Steven Szakaczki as Chaplain for the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite and Father Liam Gavigan, In Residence.

St. Lawrence the Martyr Scarborough is located at 2210 Lawrence Avenue East between Birchmount Road and Kennedy Road.

The Mass schedule is:

Sunday 1:00

Monday-Wednesday 11:00

Thursday-No Mass

Friday: 7:00 P.M

Saturday: 10:00 A.M.

(weekday Masses are subject to change or cancellation depending on funerals and the availability of the priest)

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St. Lawrence the Martyr — Scarborough’s New Home for the Traditional Latin Mass

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