554th Year

O, city, city, head of all cities!
O, city, city, center of the four quarters of the world!
O, city, city, pride of the Christians and ruin of the barbarians!
O, city, city, second paradise planted in the West, including all sorts of plants bending under the burden of spiritual fruits!
Where is thy beauty, O, paradise?
Where is the blessed strength of spirit and body of thy spiritual Graces?
Where are the bodies of the Apostles of my Lord?
Where are the relics of the saints, where are the relics of the martyrs?
Where is the corpse of the great Constantine and other Emperors?

Nicetas Acominatus

Monday marked the 554th anniversary of the fall of the Constantinople, Queen of Cities and New Rome, to the Turks. The City, by 1453 militarily insignificant and economically dependent on the fickle Italian maritime republics, faced her end with dignity and courage. A sorrowful event still to all true Christians, and lovers of the Classical world.

On the fifth of the month of April, one hour after daybreak, the sultan Mehmet came before Constantinople with about a hundred and sixty thousand men, and encamped about two and a half miles from the walls of the city.

Appeals to Rome and the West yielded no results, save for empty promises and expressions of sympathy. The Venetian senate was still deliberating about sending a fleet even in the middle of May. The Genoese colony of Pera, the opposite the City, stayed neutral. To the people of Constantinople, the only thing that mattered now, at the end of freedom and the beginning of a long darkness, was holding on to the true Faith.

Forty days later, in the early hours of 29th May, the final assault of the Turks began. Under the deafening noise of trumpets and drums, irregular bashi-bazouks and the elite janissaries alike poured through the walls of Constantinople. The Emperor, Constantine XI, realizing that everything was lost, threw off his imperial insignia, and followed by his cousin Theophilus Palaeologus, the Castilian Don Francisco of Toledo, and John Dalmatus, all four holding their swords, charged into the sea of the enemy soldiers, hitting left and right in a final act of defiance, never to be seen again.

Smashing through the great bronze doors of the Hagia Sophia, the Turks burst in, interrupting matins, massacring the congregation and priests. Later, the sultan Mehmet would walk into the great cathedral and claim in for Islam.

An empire which lasted for 1123 years, inheriting Greek thought and propagating the Christian faith, fell in a single night into the hands of infidels. When the sultan entered the City the sun, as it is said, veiled its brightness behind thick clouds in tokens of mourning. For us, 1453 does not only signify the beginning of the modern era; it evokes the memory of a world of grandeur, and all the memory of regret.

That Monday, being the anniversary of the Fall, as well as my name day (my patron saint is the Emperor Constantine XI), Edward, Anthony, Ernest, Norman and I went out to commemorate the occasion. We dined at Philia, one of the few Greek restaurants in this country. The staff, being ethnically Greek, agreed to play a music CD, Songs from the Fall of the City, that Edward had brought.

An icon of my patron saint was placed by the table

Starters: Feta cheese, tzatziki - a yoghurt dip with cucumber and garlic puree, and wholemeal bread

I had souvlaki - grilled pork, marinated in oil, salt, pepper, oregano and lemon, on skewers. Edward had the same, Norman had moussaka (eggplant casserole) and I can't remember what the rest had.

We had loukoumades for dessert, which are similar to donuts, essentially fried balls of dough drenched in honey and sprinkled with cinnamon

Norman enjoying his dessert

The Holy Virgin was distressed, the very icons wept.
Be calm, beloved Lady, be calm and do not weep for them.
Though years, though centuries shall pass, they shall be yours again.

Anonymous

UPDATE: Last Week

新年快樂!

First of all, I'd like to wish all my readers a very happy Lunar New Year!

It has been quite some time since I've posted anything worthwhile, so I suppose it would be appropriate to apologise for my lack of effort in updating.

The last week was fun, to say the least. Yes, there was the 'orrible secular celebration of Valentine's Day, which I spent considerable time raving against. The night of Valentine's, however, was better spent.

Edward brought us (Michael & I) to Zouk on Mambo Night; its experience is often regarded as an initiation ritual for many beginners into the local clubbing scene. It was, of course, the first time for both Michael and I - we never quite had the urge to do so, for some inexplicable reason, despite having most of our peers clubbing regularly. Norman accompanied the three of us.

Edward & Norman

It could very well have been hell, according to the many Presbyterian sermons I grew up listening to. It was dark, illuminated only by dim lights and ultraviolet rays, and ghoulish, thronged with hot, sweaty people gyrating suggestively to loud music. Despite all this, we managed to enjoy ourselves.

Norman, Michael & I

Long have I heard many describe clubbing, but it was the sort of thing one had to experience firsthand to understand - and what an experience. I learnt that gin and tonic glows under UV light, I cannot dance, Michael and Edward smoke pipes even in nightclubs, my parents keep calling me every 30 minutes just to make sure I haven't hooked up with anybody yet, and that clubbing is for people of all ages (we saw a wrinkled, balding bloke in his mid-50s dancing away with a pretty, young thing on the dance floor).

The week culminated with the Lunar New Year celebrations on Sunday (which by the way, marks the beginning of Great Lent - it really sneaks up on you, doesn't it?). The "haul" this year was better than the last - I collected a whole $100 more this year as compared to the last. However, I might not be able to enjoy this extra cash this time (more on this later).

And... that concludes last week.

Sunday of the Last Judgment

On this day we commemorate the inescapable second coming of Christ, ordained by the most divine Fathers to be observed after the second parable of the Prodigal, so that no one who has learned of the love of God for mankind from it will live in laziness saying, "God loves mankind, and when I am separated from Him by sin, all is prepared for my restoration".

This fearsome day of judgment has been designated for commemoration at this point in time, that through fear of death and the expectation of future torment, those who live in laziness may be encouraged to the virtues, not trusting only in the love of God, but also realizing that He is the righteous Judge who will judge all men according to their deeds. In other words those souls who have passed over are obliged to undergo judgment.

[...]

The commemoration is appointed for this day of Meatfare, that in awe of this event we should limit our intake of earthly food, not giving ourselves over to gluttony, and be encouraged to love our neighbor. In other words, since we were banished from Eden, cursed and condemned through eating of the fruit, so the present event has been ordained at this time, as next Sunday we will be banished through Adam, until Christ comes again to raise us up to Paradise.

- Synaxarion of the Last Judgment

And so, it was on this day that our little band went down to Carnivore, a Brazilian churrascaria at VivoCity, to have all the meat we wanted before Great Lent.

Typical for churrascarias, one pays a fixed price and waiters bring an offering of food to each customer at several times throughout the meal, until the customers signify that they have had enough (here it was done with a card, red on one side and green on the other).

Our little band.

Michael has some vegetables before gorging on meat.

Servers come to the table with skewers, on which great cuts of meat are speared, which they carve out slices with knives.

Edward liked his roast beef rare.

Conversation after dinner dealt with 80s music, liturgics for Holy Week, Valentine's Day, dogs, the Sarum rite and various languages.

Maria Theresa, Holy Roman Empress

The personal collection of Maria Theresa, Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, is now on display at the Singapore National Museum until the end of this month, that is, tomorrow. Regardless, this is an opportunity not to be missed.

Among assorted treasures, the Spear of Destiny, the imperial crown of the Holy Roman Empire and a 1st class relic of Jesuit missionary Francis Xavier are to be found at this remarkable exhibition. There are no 16th century arms, reflecting her reign as one of justice and mercy - iustitia et clementia - as inscribed around the rim of the famous Maria Theresa thaler.

Maria Theresa at 11

Edward says Mariuca, my godsister, bears a striking resemblance to the Empress.

Photography was not exactly allowed, but I managed to snap two photographs before the guard found out:

Do not be fooled by its delicate appearance - the imperial crown of the Holy Roman Empire is bigger and heavier than it seems. Dating back to the 10th century, the crown consists of eight plates of pure gold, trimmed with jewels and pearls. The replica was constructed with the same materials as the original, now kept at the Hofburg Imperial Palace in Vienna.

While there have been many objects purporting to be the spear that pierced the side of Our Lord at the Crucifixion (this blogger believes the actual spear is to be found in Armenia), this one is undoubtedly the most famous. Passing through a multitude of hands, including Holy Roman Emperor Otto I, Charles Martel, Frederick Barbarossa, Napoleon and Hitler, it was believed that whoever claimed the Spear "holds the destiny of the world in his hands for good or evil".

Amazing then, that security for such a renowned relic (and the exhibition) was extremely lax. In fact, security was nonexistent to the point that we could hit a key on a harpsichord, clearly marked with a sign warning visitors not to touch, and get away with it.

For a moment, some of us wondered if such an exhibition would ever be attacked for its priceless relics by assorted lunatics - occultists, fanatical Roman Catholics, deluded power-hungry types, etc - but all was laid to rest after realising that this is Singapore. Michael says that Singaporeans do not put stock in mediaeval myths and legends - we'd rather get a job at Shenton Way rather than rule the world.