Blanche DuBois: [telephone rings]
[rises out of seat]
Blanche DuBois: That's for me, I'm sure.
Stanley Kowalski: [pushes her back down roughly] Just keep your seat, I'm not so sure.
“A Streetcar Named Desire”
Ed. Note: Last week, we suggested that “One-Hand” Dan’s ordinati insist on getting a new certificate of ordination (Litteræ Ordinationis) free from the grammatical errors in Latin, which the original document contains. On second thought, that might be a problem. Here’s how such a ’phone call might go for a feckless MHT loser who dares to ask for justice:
“Hello, Your Excellency. You know, in the future, I may be working with priests and bishops who received a real formation in a good seminary, so I’d like you to correct the errors printed on my ordination certificate. Are you still there? Ahem! I...I...I don’t want them to think my ordination is...dubious, you know what I mean? Heh, heh. What errors? Well, uh, like Pistrina said, change Cincinnatensis to Cincinnatensi. All you have to do is delete a little s.
"And, while I’m on the subject, if you wouldn’t mind, it would also be rather nice if you used the better spelling archidiœcesi or even archidioecesi rather than the archidiocesi you guys printed. What the hey, since you claim we’re in the Sede Vacante, your cult center can’t be a canonically erected parish in Cinci, so why not just drop it altogether? A diocese or archdiocese is probably more about jurisdiction than about geography anyway. Hmmm? What did you say? No, Excellency, I’m not teaching my father how to make children. Just trying to help out, that’s all. No pressure, you understand. Of course you can say no. You're the boss.
“Come again? No, no, Excellency: Cincinnatensis is definitely wrong. I checked four Latin reference grammars, and the Reader is right, as usual. Well, then…why not check with the rector…you know, the Big Kahuna himself? (Your goofy buddy can ask, if you’re afraid to.) Pistrina gave the rector a private lesson last week. He’ll tell you it’s wrong. What’s that you say? The Kahuna doesn’t know his what from a what? Well, if that’s how you feel, then don’t call him! Ummmm, now that I think about it, you can leave the archidiocesi alone. That’s OK by me. Just fix the really bad grammar. No sweat, right? Right?
“Anything else, did you say? Well, why, uh, yes. Thanks for asking, because there is one other teeny, tiny request: Can you correct ad ordinem PRESBYTERATUM to ad ordinem PRESBYTERATUS… if you wouldn’t mind?
“What did you say? Whoa, Excellency! Now I know what they meant by the Ecône “Door-Mouse”! Forgive me, but I don’t think that last order is anatomically possible, do you? I mean, even if I could, my confessor wouldn’t believe me, would he? Besides, that’s one of the many topics we missed in moral theology at the rector's pesthouse. Class was probably canceled that day, I guess, or I couldn’t understand the prefect’s heavy accent.
“Now please calm down! Sorry I brought up the past. Just chill out a little. Give me a chance to explain, won’t you? What you meant to express (I hope) was: “to the order of the priesthood (or ‘presbyterate’).” Well, begging Your Excellency’s pardon, but that requires a genitive, not an accusative. You remember, don’t you, that presbyteratus is fourth declension? Yes? You think you do? Fan-taass-TIC! So then, the genitive is presbyteratūs, right? Now you don’t have to print the macron; real Latinists will understand.
“Oh, what’s that, Your Excellency? You don’t believe me? What? You want to apologize to the faithful for ordaining me? I’m a liar? Wait! What’s that he said? No way! Tell him that I’m definitely not mentally ill! What? You’re going to call in the authentic interpreter of my perpetual agreement to indentured and inescapable clerical bondage, world without end?
“Listen, Excellency, please! I’m begging you: I want to get out of here in a few years. Those slobbering peasants are going to revolt, and I don’t intend to wind up on the sharp end of a pitchfork. No, Siree, Bob! So look here! I’ve got an idea. Do you have a Pontificale Romanum nearby? You do? Of course you do! Yes, you’re the best. Good! Turn to the first page of De Ordinatione Presbyteri. Now look where the Archdeacon calls the ordinands. See that? Accedant qui ordinandi sunt ad ordinem Presbyteratus.
“It’s the same phrase! Even you can see that, can’t you, Your Excellency? I’m not mentally ill, right? You just made a typo, that’s all. A little, widdle boo-boo. Sure, I understand: you can’t soar with the eagles with all the turkeys you’ve got down here. (They were my classmates and teacher, after all, so I know what you mean.)
“You see, all you have to do is change the M to an S. (We can even use the s we removed earlier so you can save some face. Heh! Heh!) Then it’ll all be copasetic. You won’t even have to put my name in the right Latin case. I can explain that (I think). I’ll say you did it to avoid confusion. Yes, that’s it! It’ll be our little secret. Just don’t call in the Big Kahuna to authentically interpret, all right?
“Hello? Hello? Are you still there? Hello? Hello? Say something? Please! EXXXXCCCCELLLLENNNNNCCCYYYYY!”
Ed. Note: Poor soul. Didn’t even get a chance to mention the moronic Latin name that Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber invented for suburban and upwardly-mobile West Chester, Ohio. Don’t worry. We’ll post a little note about that soon, for anyone interested. “One-Hand” Dan, like Blanche DuBois, is very used to depending upon the kindness of strangers. Maybe he’ll clean his act up for the Finnish seminarian he’ll ordain in the fall. The Finns have a real fetish for good Latin – Radio 1 Finland broadcasts a news program in the language, Nuntii Latini. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if the boy took home an ordination certificate full of errors, especially since the Finnish Lutherans in 2002 completed a Latin version of Martin Luther’s catechism?
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