I am the very model of a modern ultramontanist
I’ve been congratulated as an excellent dialogist
I have degrees from all the best colleges of theology
I do not know quite what it means but I reject ontology
I understand the finer points both nuanced and theoretical
and when I go on twitter Ross Douthat calls me heretical
I’ve many sage remarks to make on what I call the Christ event
and just how many tragic deaths forbidden condoms could prevent
I much prefer to shun the works of any scholar scholastic
I find the very concept of forgiveness rather elastic
in short, as such an erudite and excellent dialogist
I am the very model of a modern ultramontanist
I’ve listed all the ways the church might deepen its humility
I send my kids to Jesuit factories of gentility
I’ve quoted bits of Newman and I’ve memorized my Bernardin
and when it comes right down to it I couldn’t name a mortal sin
I keep my Rahner library in an embossed ciborium
I purchase all my pinafores at a fair trade emporium
I sing a new church into life with quite a catchy guitar hook
And whistle all the airs from that infernal Haugen hymnal book
Then I can write decrials of a medieval mentality
and open letters calling for civil collegiality
In short as such an erudite and excellent dialogist
I am the very model of a modern ultramontanist
In fact, when l learn what’s meant by “abbot” and “episcopal”
When I have clearly understood why Mass precludes a disco ball
When I distinguish easily dissent from sensus fidei
And when I know the diff’rence twixt a rose window and rosary
When I can sing the Salve like a dutiful Gregorian
When I know all my heresies, Arian and Nestorian
In short when I have exercised my understanding to the full
A better ultramontanist never bestrode a papal bull
For though my theologic bent is bounded by this century
I’m of a temperament so fearless, plucky and adventur-y
You must admit that as an erudite elite dialogist
I am the very model of a modern ultramontanist
Clare Coffey writes from Philadelphia.
Lift My Chin, Lord
Lift my chin, Lord,Say to me,“You are not whoYou feared to be,Not Hecate, quite,With howling sound,Torch held…
Letters
Two delightful essays in the March issue, by Nikolas Prassas (“Large Language Poetry,” March 2025) and Gary…
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Let’s say you’ve just comeFrom confession. Late sunPours through the budding treesThat mark the brown creek washing Itself…