thy hand, belinda.
Consider the philosophy professor, calm and cavalier, nearly absent-minded. He smiles a lot. He seems happy, but he talks about thanatos more than anyone else and works into every Munch painting and Bergman film subtle references to suicide. He tells us that he tried it once. It's not too difficult to believe, looking at him. He pulls himself up to sit on the table and crosses his legs, projector light shining through his graying curls, the halo of the academic. He says that tragedies are about people better than ourselves, comedies about people worse. He writes, "Tragedy is the imitation of an action that is of great magnitude and defines the nature of an individual. Tragic protagonists undergo a tragic fall from happiness to misery. That flaw must be brought about by a flawed action on their part, or else they are simply pitiable victims. But this flaw must be greater than they deserve, or else we will cheer their fall rather than regret it. Tragedy is a catharsis of self-pity, fear or underserved misfortune. No one is as noble as Oedipus. No one is as articulate as Hamlet. If these beautiful, truly beautiful people are ruined so thoroughly... what hope is there for the rest of us?"
. . .
:... Excommunication...:
Ex'com'mu'ni'ca'tion, n. [L. excommunicatio: cf. F. excommunication.]
The act of communicating or ejecting; esp., an ecclesiastical censure whereby the person against whom it is pronounced is, for the time, cast out of the communication of the church; exclusion from fellowship in things spiritual.
⇒ excommunication is of two kinds, the lesser (vitandus) and the greater (invitandus); vitandus excommunication is a separation or suspension from partaking of the Eucharist; invitandus is an absolute execution of the offender from the church and all its rights and advantages, even from social intercourse with the faithful.
:... Invitandus ...:
Serafeim is legally excommunicated when he breaks the seal of confession. The provocation: a near-death experience, a drowning. He was dead for two minutes by the time the paramedics brought him back and he saw precisely nothing. Nothing, that is, until the last moment, when his glimpse of what he perceives to be the afterlife reveals not the benign God to whom he prays but a capriciously cruel identity. He perceives himself going to Hell. The subsequent doubt destroys his confidence and ability to perform his monastic duties. He slips up during mass, can't wake up for matins... falls apart, not to put too fine a point on it. His timing corresponds rather perfectly with the death of the seated Pope, and he travels to Rome with others of his order with intentions of paying his respects to the deceased Holy Father. (There he meets Burakgazi, who crops up again later on. Let's ignore Burakgazi for now.) Where were we? Oh yes. Serafeim. Serafeim, at the Vatican, meets the Preferiti and one of them - wishing to enter purely into this particularly pressurized hour - asks Serafeim to hear his confession. Serafeim obliges, flattered but not pleased: it will be the first confession he's heard since his episode and he doesn't feel remotely up to it... let alone qualified. But hear it he does and hey presto, this cardinal is having real anxiety problems. Not because of the death of the Pope, not because of the chance at the Papal Office, but because he is having very severe doubts this late in life, as to the true blind benevolence of God. Not good for Serafeim. It hits a bit too much of a nerve. He fails to absolve the lost cardinal, and brings his concerns to the prior (who accompanied him to Rome). It's help for his soul that he's after, but shame, which is the primary theme of this cheery little tale, prevents him from assuming responsibility for the question. His only option is to break the seal of confession, whereby he achieves latae sententiae excommunication on the spot. The excommunication is pushed through to invitandus by the aforementioned cardinal, who is feeling understandably insecure about this revelation.
And lo and behold: that's the end of Serafeim Krehky the Cleric.
. . .
Now does that solve all my problems, or does that solve all my problems?
Yay, opening scenarios which don't make complete mincemeat of Canon Law!
*congratulatory cup of tea*
. . .
:... Excommunication...:
Ex'com'mu'ni'ca'tion, n. [L. excommunicatio: cf. F. excommunication.]
The act of communicating or ejecting; esp., an ecclesiastical censure whereby the person against whom it is pronounced is, for the time, cast out of the communication of the church; exclusion from fellowship in things spiritual.
⇒ excommunication is of two kinds, the lesser (vitandus) and the greater (invitandus); vitandus excommunication is a separation or suspension from partaking of the Eucharist; invitandus is an absolute execution of the offender from the church and all its rights and advantages, even from social intercourse with the faithful.
:... Invitandus ...:
Serafeim is legally excommunicated when he breaks the seal of confession. The provocation: a near-death experience, a drowning. He was dead for two minutes by the time the paramedics brought him back and he saw precisely nothing. Nothing, that is, until the last moment, when his glimpse of what he perceives to be the afterlife reveals not the benign God to whom he prays but a capriciously cruel identity. He perceives himself going to Hell. The subsequent doubt destroys his confidence and ability to perform his monastic duties. He slips up during mass, can't wake up for matins... falls apart, not to put too fine a point on it. His timing corresponds rather perfectly with the death of the seated Pope, and he travels to Rome with others of his order with intentions of paying his respects to the deceased Holy Father. (There he meets Burakgazi, who crops up again later on. Let's ignore Burakgazi for now.) Where were we? Oh yes. Serafeim. Serafeim, at the Vatican, meets the Preferiti and one of them - wishing to enter purely into this particularly pressurized hour - asks Serafeim to hear his confession. Serafeim obliges, flattered but not pleased: it will be the first confession he's heard since his episode and he doesn't feel remotely up to it... let alone qualified. But hear it he does and hey presto, this cardinal is having real anxiety problems. Not because of the death of the Pope, not because of the chance at the Papal Office, but because he is having very severe doubts this late in life, as to the true blind benevolence of God. Not good for Serafeim. It hits a bit too much of a nerve. He fails to absolve the lost cardinal, and brings his concerns to the prior (who accompanied him to Rome). It's help for his soul that he's after, but shame, which is the primary theme of this cheery little tale, prevents him from assuming responsibility for the question. His only option is to break the seal of confession, whereby he achieves latae sententiae excommunication on the spot. The excommunication is pushed through to invitandus by the aforementioned cardinal, who is feeling understandably insecure about this revelation.
And lo and behold: that's the end of Serafeim Krehky the Cleric.
. . .
Now does that solve all my problems, or does that solve all my problems?
Yay, opening scenarios which don't make complete mincemeat of Canon Law!
*congratulatory cup of tea*