I will remember this in my prayers.

As for the shameful origin of the CofE, yes, agreed. I wish that Henry had remained Defensor Fidei. But his perfidy did not altogether extinguish the Christianity of the CofE: did not altogether obliterate its holiness or orthodoxy, did not sever the Apostolic succession or continuity with the Fathers, did not eliminate or pollute the Sacraments. So I have always felt that the Anglican Communion is to Rome as any disobedient archepiscopacy might be. I view their disunion as a temporary situation, a short term blip in Christian history, like the Arian controversy (which went on for longer than the Anglican schism from Rome has yet done). I expect that in fifty years or so, most Anglicans will be extremely conservative, the liberal Anglicans having mostly died, or else admitted their liberal nihilism and totally ceased their Christian observances. At that point, it would surprise me if the Anglican Communion did not mostly join with Rome in rather the way that the Maronites have done. There is no reason why there may not be an Anglican Rite alongside the Roman, Eastern Catholic, etc.

In the meantime, I flirt with the Anglican Ordinariate. But there is as yet no Ordinarial parish in my neck of the woods. And the Catholic parishes in my area are less Christian in their doctrine and liturgy than my current 1928 Prayer Book Episcopal parish. I have found also that Roman liturgies celebrated in the vernacular are peculiarly flat, undignified, saccharine: in a word, not very numinous. This is certainly so of many Anglican parishes too, but I am fortunate in my own parish to enjoy a healthy dose of good old fashioned spookiness and gravity, every week.

Just out of curiosity, why is it that you accept the authority of the English monarch over the more ancient office of the Roman Pontiff? And I further assume you are familiar with the shameful origin of the Church of England.

I am an Ultra-Catholic-No ‘Anglo-,’ I beseech you,

You’ll find no trace of heresy in anything I teach you.

The clergyman across the road has whiskers and a bowler,

But I wear buckles on my shoes and sport a feriola.

My alb is edged with deepest lace, spread over rich black satin;

The Psalms of David I recite in heaven’s own native Latin,

And, though I don’t quite understand those awkward moods and tenses,

My ordo recitandi’s strict Westmonasteriensis.

I teach the children in my school the Penny Catechism,

Explaining how the C. of E.’s in heresy and schism.

The truths of Trent and Vatican I bate not one iota.

I have not met the Rural Dean. I do not pay my quota.

The Bishop’s put me under his ‘profoundest disapproval’

And, though he cannot bring about my actual removal,

He will not come and visit me or take my confirmations.

Colonial prelates I employ from far-off mission-stations.

The music we perform at Mass is Verdi and Scarlatti.

Assorted females form the choir; I wish they weren’t so catty.

Two flutes, a fiddle and a harp assist them in the gallery.

The organist left years ago, and so we save his salary.

We’ve started a ‘Sodality of John of San Fagondez,’

Consisting of the five young men who serve High Mass on Sundays;

And though they simply will not come to weekday Mass at seven,

They turn out looking wonderful on Sundays at eleven.

The Holy Father I extol in fervid perorations,

The Cardinals in Curia, the Sacred Congregations;

And, though I’ve not submitted yet, as all my friends expected,

I should have gone last Tuesday week, had not my wife objected.

I have often wondered if Benedict’s outreach to Anglican conservatives is in part an attempt to inject back into Catholic practice some of the liturgical traditions and music that have been preserved only in the Vatican itself and in the high Anglican communion.

You’re probably familiar with this poem….

http://www.theanglocatholic.com/2010/11/while-were-waiting