This article includes an assessment of the life of Michael Davies, by his colleague and friend, Leo Darroch; letters sent by the Roman Curia to be read out at his requiem; a summary of his funeral and requiem Masses; and finally, a Panegyric for Michael given at his Requiem at Spanish Place, London.
“A Very Unique Individual”
The death of Michael Davies – a mainstay of traditional Catholicism for thirty-five years – was announced in September last year, too late for a comprehensive tribute in the November 2004 issue of Mass of Ages. Here, we rectify that omission with a full assessment of the life and achievement of this extraordinary man by Leo Darroch.
The death of Michael Davies – a mainstay of traditional Catholicism for thirty-five years – was announced in September last year, too late for a comprehensive tribute in the November 2004 issue of Mass of Ages. Here, we rectify that omission with a full assessment of the life and achievement of this extraordinary man by Leo Darroch.
It would be clear to any independent analyst, if carrying out a detached study of the Catholic Church in the twentieth century, that the statistics would show a graph rising in all aspects of the Church’s life and activity up to the 1960s, and then a dramatic falling away from the mid-1960s: a decline that continues inexorably to the present day. The most obvious question that would enter the head of even the most inexperienced analyst would be: “What happened in the Church in the 1960s to cause such a collapse?” Well, the great event of the 1960s, undisputed by supporters and critics alike, was the Second Vatican Council. Its supporters claim it was perhaps the greatest event in the history of the Church; its detractors regard it as the greatest disaster.
How is it, therefore, that such an event has created such a polarisation of opinion? Either something is a success or it isn’t. In establishing a conclusion, the clinical analyst relies on hard facts, data. There is no room for sentiment, no allowance for opinion, no acknowledgement of the best of intentions – the only thing that counts is reality. And the problem for the great mass of the laity, despite the assurances from the highest corridors of power to the pulpits of the parishes, has been the complete absence of reality from those who are our spiritual leaders. From cardinals to curates we have been fed a diet of unbearable liturgical change that has been presented, bizarrely, in every official document, newspaper and pastoral letter as a wonderful renewal.
The fake ‘renewal’
This manipulation of the laity began even during the Council itself when changes in the Mass were introduced, supposedly, for our benefit. The self-appointed ‘experts’ knew what was best for us, we would be grateful, and the Church would embark on a wonderful new era of growth. So much for the theory. Most of us were in no position at all, either academically or numerically, to withstand this attack on our faith and liturgical practice and so we were picked off gradually during the 1960s until our worship, our liturgy and our churches had been changed out of all recognition. Even in the great cities such as London the few who dared challenge the prevailing wisdom at that time were swimming against the harsh tide of modernism. By 1970 we were almost back in penal times with traditional rite Masses being celebrated in private houses and chapels.
It was in this atmosphere of chaos and despair that Michael Davies emerged from the great body of the laity and became our beacon of hope, our champion of Tradition, and our undisputed leader in the fight back against the liturgical wreckers. But why Michael Davies? What was it about this man that captivated so many traditional lay hearts yet disturbed so many of our clergy?
Michael Davies was born in Yeovil, Somerset, on 13 March 1936, to Cyril and Annie Davies (née Garnworthy). His father, a Welshman, was a Baptist and his mother, who was English, was a member of the Church of England. He attended Pen Mill Primary School in Yeovil and later moved on to the Yeovil School, which was the local grammar school. Michael was well known as a historian and this love of history dated back to his school days when he won a prize for his knowledge of the British Empire. His mother enrolled him and his younger brother into the local choir of St John’s Church of England parish church and for a time he became an active member of that church.
On leaving school at the age of eighteen Michael joined the Somerset Light Infantry as a regular soldier and served for six years, taking in such conflicts as the Malayan Emergency, the Suez Crisis, and the EOKA campaign in Cyprus. It was during this army service that he was drawn to Roman Catholicism. He was received into the Church and conditionally baptised by Fr Michael McSweeney at St Peter’s Catholic Church, Crown Hill, Plymouth, on 17 April 1957. After leaving the army in 1960, he met a young Croatian girl, Marija Milosh, at the Charles Péguy Centre in the French Church (Notre Dame de France) in Leicester Square, London, and they married in July 1961 at St Mary’s, Marnhull, Dorset. Michael attended St Mary’s Catholic Training College in Twickenham and qualified as a teacher in 1964. And so were laid the foundations of his great work that followed. From being a soldier in the service of his country he became a soldier in the service of his Church.
Apostolate begins
Maria Davies clearly remembers Michael’s first foray into print. In May 1967 The Tablet had printed an article on the Vietnam War by a priest who had made various claims about Americans bombing Catholic churches in North Vietnam and killing people on their way to Mass. Michael simply did not believe the story and checked the information. His letter to The Tablet (24 June 1967) proved that the entire article was groundless and based on Communist propaganda. This insistence on checking information in the search for truth became the cornerstone of everything he produced subsequently. It became a continual source of irritation, and more, to those ‘experts’ who wished to steamroller liturgical change upon the laity, that their spurious claims and grand plans were put under the microscope and found, in the most part, to be groundless. His life’s work was spent meticulously researching these supposed new insights, this new scholarship, and exposing it for public scrutiny as the baseless and destructive movement it was. He had discovered in his late teens and early twenties that the Truth existed in the Catholic Church and he was not prepared to allow anyone to take it away from him or his children.
For Michael, the truth was everything and he was appalled at the way the modernist pseudo-intellectuals and their fellow travellers had infiltrated the Catholic media, the seminaries, the publishing houses, and were introducing a new religion to our churches and schools to the detriment of the faithful. He was also equally appalled not only that the hierarchies of the world had abandoned their duty to their flocks and allowed these ‘experts’ to peddle their destructive theories unchallenged, but even worse, that many actively supported them while condemning as divisive those Catholics who were not prepared to abandon the faith of their parents and grandparents.
As a schoolteacher and also a parent, Michael knew the importance of guiding young minds along the path of truth; and especially so in matters of the Faith. It is well known that initially he had a degree of enthusiasm for Vatican II but he quickly realised that things were not as he and many others expected. He joined the Latin Mass Society in February 1967 and very quickly became actively involved. In October 1968 he addressed a conference in Cambridge and gave a talk on ‘Mass and the Under Elevens.’ Later that month he spoke in London on ‘Children and the Mass.’ He had been a Catholic for only ten years and a teacher for only four years but he could see immediately the damaging effect the changes would have on the faith of young people. He was to be their champion and he threw himself entirely into the battle. He had written to Cardinal Heenan about the introduction of the vernacular into the Mass and had been assured that the entire Mass would never be put in the vernacular. When this happened Michael felt very let down by the cardinal. However, we should not be too critical of Cardinal Heenan as events in such matters were out of his control. Perhaps it was the realisation that the new liturgy was careering out of control that led the cardinal to obtain the ‘English indult’ of 1970 that permitted the celebration of the traditional Latin Mass to continue in England and Wales, albeit under severe restrictions. This was to be Cardinal Heenan’s legacy to the Church and a wonderful gift it has proved to be.
The written word
By the early 1970s Michael had already established a reputation for being a formidable defender of the Faith and Tradition and was forming friendships with other wonderful defenders of Catholic Tradition in the English-speaking world – men such as Fr Paul Crane SJ in London with Christian Order, Hamish Fraser in Scotland with Approaches, and Walter Matt in the USA with The Remnant. These three publishers formed a mighty triumvirate in defence of Catholic doctrine and Tradition and in Michael they recognised a writer to cherish. For nearly thirty-five years he wrote incessantly and prodigiously for these magazines, in addition to writing for the Latin Mass Society, and his articles were always the first to be read before all others. In all his writing Michael Davies encapsulated the theological virtues of faith, hope and charity. He was possessed of a wonderful faith that even in the darkest moments never wavered; he never lost hope that Tradition would be restored to our altars, and though he criticised endlessly the disastrous reforms inflicted upon the Church he never resorted to personal abuse of those who were responsible for them.
His first article in Christian Order (October 1972) was entitled ‘Communion in the Hand’ in which he responded to a strongly worded editorial in the Catholic Herald of 2 June which had severely criticised those who opposed the introduction of Communion in the hand, stating it was a traditional Catholic practice. Michael argued that this claim was unjust and inaccurate and went on to prove so: yet another early example of the exposure of deception and the establishment of truth.
The major works
By the mid-1970s the crisis within the Church was deepening. In his general research on the various novelties that were being introduced he had amassed a huge amount of data on the Council and how the great majority of the Fathers had been deceived by the well-orchestrated plan of a clique of European bishops and their liturgical advisers. Michael Davies argued that the Church’s attempted headlong rush into unity with other Christian bodies would, in fact, have the adverse effect to that being proclaimed and was leading swiftly to its decline. Thus was born his great trilogy, Liturgical Revolution. His first volume, Cranmer’s Godly Order (1976), examined the Protestant Reformation, what happened and why. His second work, Pope John’s Council (1977), was written “to provide an objective and documented explanation of the fact that the Church in the West is disintegrating and that the responsibility for this disintegration must be laid at the door of the Second Vatican Council.” His third volume, Pope Paul’s New Mass (1980), provided a detailed examination of the development of the Roman rite, the liturgical legislation pouring out from the Vatican during and after the Council, the prayers and rubrics of the new rite of Mass, and the devastating impact of the changes on the Church throughout the world.
Michael had submitted Cranmer’s Godly Order to the censor of his diocese for an imprimatur but it was refused, despite the censor finding no doctrinal fault with it. An appeal to his archbishop proved fruitless. Such was the prevailing hostile attitude of the authorities to anyone who dared question Vatican II or its ‘fruits.’ Following this unjust rebuff he decided there was no point in submitting any more of his work for an imprimatur but ensured that everything he produced was examined by theologians for criticism and amendment where necessary.
In the midst of working on this trilogy, a taxing enough project in itself, Michael became engaged in a spirited defence of Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre. In 1976 the Catholic Truth Society published a pamphlet that seriously misrepresented the archbishop. Michael wrote to the author and suggested he either substantiate or withdraw his allegations but he refused. This led to a pamphlet entitled Archbishop Lefebvre – The Truth and this was so successful it ran to several reprints. However, he decided that the only way to fully present the truth about the archbishop would be to write an apologia and this was published in June 1979 as Apologia Pro Marcel Lefebvre. In the event, this became Volume One and was later followed by Volume Two (August 1983) and Volume Three (April 1988).
Growing stature
Such a prodigious feat of writing would have been immense for a full-time author but Michael was first and foremost at this time a schoolteacher with a young family. He was teaching by day and writing by night and at weekends. In all of this it must not be forgotten that his wife Maria played a vital role in supporting all his activities, a fact that he readily acknowledged. At home he would be so immersed in his writing that Maria did everything else. His meals had to wait until he finished some important paper, and his daily routine seemed to revolve around the times of postal collections. “I must catch the post” was a daily cry as he dashed out of the house. His home in Bromley, South East London became the centre of the lay traditional movement and he and Maria entertained visitors from all over the world, including many priests and seminarians.
As Michael’s reputation grew so did the demands on his time. Everyone wanted a quote, an article, a lecture, a foreign visit, or simply a reply to a letter or an email – of which he received thousands each year. I have a letter from him in April 1982 in which he said he had others to answer written as far back as 1980.
In 1980 he appeared on television in America where he debated the state of the Church with a Fr Joseph Champlin from the Chancery of Syracuse, New York, who served on the bishops’ commission on the liturgy. It was greatly heartening to see a layman completely demolishing one of the leading lights of liturgical reform in such a one-sided debate. From then onwards Michael became probably the foremost lay speaker in the USA and was instrumental in the mid-1990s in forming all the miscellaneous traditional groups in the USA into Una Voce America. The Americans took him to their hearts and he was invited back time and time again. With his reputation growing worldwide his tours took in many European countries, India, Australia, and even Nigeria where he helped with the foundation of a traditional parish.
Dedicated teacher
It was surprising, given the problems encountered by many other Catholic teachers who were deeply unhappy about the ‘new’ faith being imposed on the Church and in our schools, that he suffered no problems personally in his own schools. Maria Davies said that Michael was an excellent teacher and he had a compulsion to teach about the knowledge he had acquired. That is why his books are so readable. He worried about nothing. He wrote his own school plays which were always anti-feminist and with a soft spot for poor husbands. Those who knew Michael will smile at this recollection from Maria who always thought him “a very unique individual”. When the school inspectors were due, other teachers would spend weeks preparing the children but Michael would simply give the inspectors a very thin folder and describe it as an inspector-friendly file. It was always his intention to retire early and he wanted to be sacked. He would tease the more feminist mothers and pupils. In the inspectors’ presence he would urge the children to complain about him because they had the power to sack him but the children would say that he was a wonderful teacher and so his grand plan did not bear fruit.
He took great pride in the fact that he was a primary school teacher and would talk endlessly about his pupils and had an unstoppable stream of stories about them. He deeply resented that he was teaching his pupils the Catholic Faith he had learned as a convert, and that had been reinforced at his teacher training college, and then they were going on to senior schools and beyond and being exposed to a Catholicism that he did not recognise, a Catholicism that had been adapted to the secular spirit of the age and was watered down to be acceptable to everyone but in fact was rejected by most.
St Matthew recounts how Jesus said that we must not lay up our treasures on this earth but rather lay them up in heaven. Where your treasure house is, there your heart is too. It was abundantly clear where Michael’s heart was. In 1998 a friend complained to Michael about a magazine using some photographs without permission. He wrote in reply, “You will not be surprised to learn that I do not in the least share your indignation. I believe that we are in a war about the most important issues in the world, that our enemies are the [he named a bishop] of this world and that if anything that we have written or photographed can be useful to our allies we should be delighted. I have not only had extensive passages from my books quoted without permission, I have had entire books and pamphlets reprinted or translated into other languages on numerous occasions without being informed. I discovered quite by accident that in one country five of my full length books and about ten of my pamphlets had been published. In every case I have been pleased that my writing has been found useful in fighting the good fight.” Michael truly appreciated that we as individuals were not important, it was the restoration of the traditional liturgy that was paramount and that anything that we could do should be focused totally on this cause.
The Una Voce years
In 1995 Michael Davies was elected President of the International Federation, Una Voce, a position that gave him greater international status and a much higher ‘official’ profile which allowed him access to the major Vatican departments. It also increased greatly an already taxing workload, as for most of his term of office he acted as president, secretary and treasurer. During his tenure of office, until he stepped down in 2003, he welcomed fourteen new associations into the Federation and became a respected visitor to the Congregations for the Doctrine of the Faith, of Divine Worship, and the Ecclesia Dei Commission. Perhaps his most telling intervention was in the year 2000 when he informed the commission that any moves to adapt the Missal of 1962 to include any of the changes introduced in the 1960s would be rejected in their entirety by the traditional movement worldwide. The proposed moves were dropped.
In addition to his great work with the Una Voce movement he took part for many years in the annual Chartres pilgrimage and gave lectures every year at the Dietrich von Hildebrand Institute in Italy. He received, and accepted many invitations to functions in small parishes and these were seen as equally important as his international engagements. He was kindness and patience personified to everyone who wished to speak to him but was deeply uncomfortable when compliments were paid to him. He would become embarrassed and change the subject to something entirely different, such as Welsh rugby (his second religion) or Bryn Terfel, the great Welsh baritone. But every compliment was thoroughly deserved – he was the master who came forth from the liturgical chaos and restored clarity of Catholic teaching on liturgy, on doctrine, and on the ordering of churches. This is why the liturgical establishment disliked him so much: he embarrassed their gurus and he annoyed those bishops who were in thrall to the weird and (not so) wonderful theories of these gurus and implemented wholesale changes on their recommendations. To be publicly exposed as gullible is not an easy medicine to swallow and it is so much easier to attack the messenger than to digest the message.
For those who did not know Michael personally, but knew him only through his writing on Church matters, it would perhaps be easy to imagine him as a dry-as-dust academic fighting some hopeless cause against the might of the Church establishment. A Welsh Don Quixote tilting at the mirages of modern Catholic life – the ‘spirit’ of Vatican II, renewal and ecumenism. But Michael knew exactly what he was aiming at and his aim was deadly. But to his friends he was the most engaging companion. His breadth of knowledge was staggering and he could converse with authority, to give some examples, on music from pop to polyphony, on films, on sport, on history and on literature. Of great charm, of unassuming modesty, equally at home with the smallest child and the most senior cardinal, he was the most magical companion.
The legacy
But his legacy, and what an immense legacy he has left us, will cheer those who knew him until the end of their days. And those who did not know him personally will be enlightened, educated and sustained by a body of work of truly Catholic genius – a timely antidote to the self-interested, self-serving, shallow delusions of men whose ideas were already condemned by Pope St Pius X in Pascendi Gregis over 100 years ago.
Michael Davies has been laid to rest, a rest he truly deserved. He once said to me that if he couldn’t find a priest to conduct a traditional funeral then he wished just to be taken to the cemetery. In the event his funeral in Chislehurst, Kent was a wonderful occasion in the truly Catholic sense and his Requiem was celebrated by Fr Martin Edwards, a former pupil of his. When Michael had been laid to rest and the committal prayers had been said, a group of four friends sang over the grave, in Welsh, one verse and a chorus of ‘Land Of My Fathers’ – the Welsh national anthem.
I think it is true to say that Michael Davies, while being a man hugely admired and respected within the world of traditional Catholicism and known in the corridors of power in Rome, was perhaps relatively unknown to the great majority of Catholic faithful who still attend Sunday Mass. The immensity of the man will only be fully appreciated in the years and decades to come when his writings will be recognised as the foundation and springboard of the resurgence of the traditional liturgy and faith of the Church. Perhaps one of the great tributes we could pay him now for his service to us and the Church is for every one of us who has one or more of his books to lend it to someone who has no knowledge of him or his work. Make it your apostolate to persuade your parish priest to read his trilogy on the liturgical revolution – it could produce remarkable fruit.
Letters to Mr Julian Chadwick
Chairman, The Latin Mass Society
I have been profoundly touched by the news of the death of Michael Davies. I had the good fortune to meet him several times and I found him as a man of deep faith and ready to embrace suffering. Ever since the Council he put all his energy into the service of the Faith and left us important publications especially about the Sacred Liturgy. Even though he suffered from the Church in many ways in his time, he always truly remained a man of the Church. He knew that the Lord founded His Church on the rock of St Peter and that the Faith can find its fullness and maturity only in union with the successor of St Peter. Therefore we can be confident that the Lord opened wide for him the gates of heaven. We commend his soul to the Lord’s mercy.
Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger
(Translated from the original German)
9 November 2004
Dear Mr Chadwick,
I wish to acknowledge receipt of your letter of 29 October 2004 informing me of the Solemn Requiem for the repose of the soul of Mr Michael Davies to be celebrated according to the typical edition of the Roman Missal of 1962 at Saint James’ Church ,Spanish Place, London on Saturday 20 November. I regret that my duties here in Rome prevent my attendance at that Mass. Nor is it possible for me at this time to send a representative.
Nonetheless I am pleased to associate myself and the officials of the Pontifical Commission ‘Ecclesia Dei’ with the members of the Latin Mass Society, Una Voce International and all of those present for this solemn liturgical celebration in suffrage for the soul of His servant Michael whose attachment to the classical Roman liturgy is well known. May he know the reward of his labours. May Our Merciful Lord grant him eternal rest and consolation to his family and all those who mourn his passing. Lux aeterna luceat ei, Domine, cum sanctis tuis in aeternum quia pius es. Requiescat in pace!
With my blessing I remain
Sincerely yours in Christ,
Dario Cardinal Castrillón Hoyos
17 November 2004
Dear Mr Chadwick,
I thank you for your letter of 29 October and wish to offer my condolences to you and to all members of the Latin Mass Society on the death of Mr Michael Davis. He visited me two years ago and I appreciated very much his commitment to our Catholic faith.
In spiritual union with you and others who will be at the Solemn Requiem for him on 20 November, I pray that the Lord Jesus to whom Michael was so sincerely devoted may give him eternal rest.Sincerely Yours in Christ,
Francis Cardinal Arinze
13 November 2004
Funeral of Michael Davies
The Funeral Mass for Michael Davies was celebrated at St Mary’s Church, Chislehurst, Kent on Friday 22 October 2004. Michael’s coffin was received into the church on the previous evening. The church was packed for the solemn High Requiem Mass sung in accordance with the traditional rites of Holy Mother Church.
The celebrant was Fr Martin Edwards, assisted by Fr William Hudson as deacon and Fr Timothy Finigan as sub-deacon. Three other priests and a brother were in choir, whilst the plainsong schola, led by John Tennant, included two further priests. The MC was Anthony Ozimic, ably assisted by a knowledgeable and reverent group of servers, including the LMS Treasurer, Francis Cary, and two young boys from St Bede’s Church, Clapham Park.
During his homily, Fr Edwards paid tribute to Michael as a husband, father and grandfather, as well as a teacher and writer. He recalled how Michael had taught him at school and instilled a love of literature and classical music. He welcomed Michael’s family and many friends, some of whom had travelled from overseas to be at the funeral. He commented that Michael had written many books upholding Tradition, and many of his opinions and ideas were now being repeated by bishops and cardinals. His most important theme being that it is the Mass that matters. Michael was always keen to defend Tradition, but was never confrontational. He was a loyal son of the Church.
In a most moving ceremony, after the Mass and absolutions, Michael’s body was carried to his grave in the graveyard attached to the church. Most remarkably, after the liturgical ceremonies had been completed, some of Michael’s friends sang the Welsh national anthem (‘Land of my Fathers’) as a celebration of his commitment to Wales.
Spanish Place Requiem
With the permission of Michael’s family, the LMS arranged a public Requiem Mass for Michael Davies at St James’s Church, Spanish Place, London on Saturday 20 November 2004. Our thanks go to the Rector, Fr Terry Phipps, for his generosity in allowing us to use the church.
The celebrant was Mgr Antony Conlon, the deacon was Fr Martin Edwards and the sub-deacon Fr Andrew Southwell. The sanctuary party was under the direction of Gordon Dimon. Several other clergy were robed and in choir.
Before the Mass, letters were read out from Cardinal Castrillón Hoyos and Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. A third letter from Cardinal Francis Arinze reached the LMS too late to be read.
There were over 300 in the congregation and the choir of Spanish Place sang the requiem to a setting by Victoria.
After the Mass, Fr William Hudson of the Institute of Christ the King, Sovereign Priest preached the panegyric. He commented on Michael’s fidelity and single-mindedness in the cause of Tradition combined always with irrepressible good humour. Monsignor Conlon then gave the Absolution of the Dead over the catafalque.
In the congregation, as well as Michael’s family, were the President and several committee members of the LMS; Fra Fredrick Crichton-Stuart, Vice President of Una Voce International; representatives of Una Voce USA, the Institute of Christ the King and the Priestly Fraternity of St Peter. It was a splendid occasion and was a fitting tribute to Michael, but of course principally it united our prayers for the repose of his soul. Requiescat in pace.
Panegyric for Michael Davies
Requiem Mass Spanish Place, 20th November 2004
We are gathered together today to pray for the soul of Michael Davies – but a short time ago we laid him to rest in a curiously moving country church at Chislehurst where an exiled emperor once lay, and where now lie the mortal remains of a humble schoolmaster, a writer, historian, polemicist, champion of the Faith he held so dear. It was characteristic of the man that he chose such a church: a choice that surprised many of us – being as it is rather difficult to get to, and rather too small to accommodate his numerous friends and admirers. Michael never imagined that many would wish to gather at his funeral.
I have to confess that I feel a difficulty in saying anything about Michael Davies today which needs saying. Those who came to know the author through his books, articles and conferences will have no doubt of what he believed. His constant and untiring defence of Catholic Tradition, and in particular the Mass, needs no recalling. And those of us who knew Michael, who were fortunate enough to consider him a friend, will have our own memories which mean infinitely more than anything I can say. Michael himself certainly wouldn’t have wanted much said – he always winced at flattery and praise, immediately deflecting it with a joke and changing the subject, often to the bewilderment of his friends across the Atlantic. In his will he stipulated that no panegyric be preached at his funeral, and that someone should simply speak of the superiority of the old Mass to the new. That alone says much about the man we mourn.
And yet Michael wouldn’t begrudge us the consolation of remembering him today, for the loss of a friend is often tempered by memories. Of Michael the soldier and the teacher I am ill qualified to speak; in the army he was granted the gift of faith, and at Chislehurst his sometime pupil, Fr Martin Edwards, attested to the remarkable skills of his onetime teacher. Michael of course never ceased to teach, and it was principally through his writings that he instructed countless thousands; through them Michael the teacher lives on. Surprisingly, of all places, it was in the library of Fisher House, Cambridge that I first came across his famous trilogy on the Council and Pope Paul’s Mass. How many, like myself, were awakened to the full horrors of the liturgical revolution by these books? How many were determined to do something about it and perhaps began to consider a priestly vocation?
Michael’s literary output was phenomenal, more than twenty full volumes and thousands of articles and reviews. These covered an equally astonishing breath of subject, not only liturgy and theology, but history, biography and current affairs. Detractors of the Tablet-reading type would be quick to say that Michael was not a serious scholar; of course he wasn’t in the sense of stuffy academia – he never claimed to be. Michael was a publicist and journalist, who championed a cause and did so with fervour, understanding and wit. Michael was an enthusiast and, as all great teachers, his enthusiasm was infectious. Be it in writing or in conversation, the subject being rugby, Wales, the Mass or the Reformation, he was never dull. Michael had the genius of conveying his arguments with utter clarity, of understanding his opponents and demolishing their arguments with ruthless logic. The finest example of this, to my mind, is his book on religious liberty, a thorny issue amongst traditionalists. While others have written interminably long and largely unread treatises on this difficult subject, Michael analyses the various arguments and gives the definitive answer based on Catholic doctrine and tradition.
Those who had never met Michael but knew his works were invariably surprised on meeting him for the first time; no one could have been more different from the caricature of the po-faced, right wing traditionalist his detractors supposed him to be. It was, surely, impossible not to like Michael: one might disagree, but his sincerity, goodness, humility and utter lack of guile would endear him to all but the stoniest-hearted. His sense of humour was legendary – one incident comes to my mind: a frequent visitor to the Institute of Christ the King’s seminary near Florence in Italy, where the majority of priests and seminarians are French, Michael on one occasion arrived with a video recording of a recent rugby match between France and Wales. He immediately asked Mgr Wach, the Institute’s Superior, whether he would permit the seminarians to watch it with him that Sunday afternoon. The request was granted; the amusement of the non-Frenchmen was only equalled by the growing despondency of the French as it transpired that the match was a colossal victory for Wales, the French not scoring a single try! Michael loved conviviality, conversation and laughter and, in the truly Catholic way, wine and more often whisky prolonged the joy of the occasion. Michael, echoing Belloc, was very suspicious of ‘water drinkers’.
Michael achieved something very rare in the little world of what the French term ‘La Tradition’; he combined uncompromising convictions with almost perfect charity; he never confused principles and personalities. If he disagreed with you he would argue the matter out and usually came out the victor, but he never resorted to personal attacks on character; he would never sully the reputation of a fellow man. He refused to enter into those petty squabbles which so often plague the traditional movement; he hated unkindness. Michael’s only ambition was for truth, he had none for himself and that explains his achievement. Dare I say that many of us present in this church can learn from his example?
Another aspect of Michael’s character was his loyalty and gratitude; his firm grasp of history meant that he saw the upheavals in the post-conciliar church ‘sub specie aeternitatis’. Thus, while he disagreed with Archbishop Lefebvre regarding his decision to consecrate bishops in 1988, he never sought to denigrate the man for whom he had written an Apologia, nor the order he had founded. He maintained friendly relations with many priests of the Society of St Pius X, refusing to classify them as schismatic or condemn the faithful who went to their Masses. If sometimes there was rancour, it never came from Michael. Without the archbishop, the more widespread acceptance of the traditional Mass and the foundation of the approved traditional communities would never have come about as far as Michael was concerned. He didn’t forget.
Nevertheless when his convictions were concerned, he was a fearsome opponent. The role he played as the international president of Una Voce in the late 1990s is an example. He vigorously opposed an attempt to replace the approved 1962 edition of the Roman Missal with a later version, along with other changes in the same direction. Michael saw such moves as the thin end of the wedge. He made it clear in high places that any softening of the accords granted in 1988 would lead to his mobilising all his forces to oppose such change. Michael, by then the unquestioned elder statesman of the Traditional movement, was a force to be reckoned with and carried the day; a remarkable achievement and for which we can all be grateful.
The death of Michael leaves us all poorer; we have lost a great champion of orthodoxy of the timbre of Belloc or Chesterton. Some have lost a husband, father or friend. If we dared question the decrees of Providence – but, please God, both faith and experience make us too wise to question them – we might well have wondered why he was not left among us for a work he alone seemed qualified to do. I remember vividly the occasion that Michael informed me of his illness; it was at lunch, in the company of Mgr Wach, at a London hotel. Having asked after his health, he brightly replied, “As you happen to ask, not that well; I’ve been told I’m dying”. It came as a total shock, being so unexpected, and I felt faint. Michael expressed no visible anguish, worry and absolutely no self pity. He had that week been diagnosed with inoperable cancer and given a maximum of two years to live.
Michael had always known that one day he would die – now he knew roughly when, and was determined to make the most of his remaining time; his busy life of travel, lectures and writing continued unabated. He had so many unwritten books to write! While Michael had no fear of death, it should not be imagined that he was spared the anguish of terminal cancer, the pain both physical and spiritual; in particular he was worried for those he would leave behind, especially his adored wife, Maria. No Christian is spared suffering. His refusal to be cowed was a sign of grace in his soul, which demonstrated a true love and relationship with God achieved by familiarity with the sacraments and prayer. Michael’s traditionalism was not the hollow polished veneer of some. The courage he showed was a sign of true holiness; I hope it is not presumptuous to say that Michael achieved what God desired of him; that is what sanctity is about.
This morning we pray for Michael, knowing that his legacy shall not fade – may his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace.
[Taken from the Latin Mass Society's February 2005 Newsletter.]
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