Category: Nuntiatoria
The Apostolate’s magazine offers doctrinal instruction, theological reflections, and mission updates, preserving sacred tradition while addressing contemporary issues. Past editions feature catechetical articles, ecclesiastical commentary, historical insights, Apostolate news, and devotional resources, serving as a vital tool for clergy and laity alike.
This week’s Nuntiatoria w/c 10.05.26
Fourteen Years of Apostolic Labour: A Ministry of Sacrament, Charity, and Truth
This week’s Nuntiatoria w/c 03.05.26
This week’s Nuntiatoria w/c 26.04.26
This 103rd edition of Nuntiatoria breaks from predictable commentary. It does not merely critique policy—it exposes the legal architecture behind buffer zones, interrogates the theological ambiguity of Fiducia Supplicans, and documents how ideology enters classrooms without parental consent. Precise, sourced, and unsparing, it offers analysis rarely articulated with such clarity or scope.
Paschal Greeting from the Primus
Beloved sons and daughters in Christ,
Christ is risen. Resurréxi, et adhuc tecum sum. The Church, our Mother, places these words upon the lips of the Risen Lord, not merely as proclamation but as abiding reality: He is risen, and He remains with us. The Resurrection is not a past event recalled in sentiment, but a present victory in which we are summoned to participate—ontologically, sacramentally, and morally.
We have passed through the solemn days of the Passion, where the Church veils her glory and walks with her Spouse in suffering. We have kept vigil in the silence of the tomb. And now, in the full light of Easter, the Church does not whisper—she proclaims. The Alleluia, long buried, bursts forth again with irrepressible force. Death is conquered. Sin is vanquished. The ancient enemy is undone.
Yet, beloved, the Resurrection is not merely the vindication of Christ—it is the revelation of what man is called to become.
The Resurrection and the New Life
In the ancient discipline of the Church, the newly baptised—those clothed in white garments—spent this Octave as a continual feast, not only of joy but of formation. Their outward garment signified an inward reality: they had died and risen with Christ. What had been accomplished sacramentally in them must now be lived existentially.
This is no less true for us.
Too often, the Resurrection is reduced to a theological abstraction or a seasonal devotion. But the Apostle is unequivocal: “If ye be risen with Christ, seek the things that are above” (Col. 3:1). The Resurrection demands transformation. It is not enough to admire the empty tomb; one must leave behind the grave-clothes of sin.
Ask yourselves, then: what in your life still belongs to the tomb? What habits, attachments, compromises, or cowardices remain buried with Christ—but not yet relinquished by you?
The Risen Lord does not return to His disciples as a memory. He comes as Judge and King, bearing the marks of His Passion, calling them—and us—to conversion.
The Crisis of Faith and the Witness of the Apostolate
We cannot ignore the context in which this Easter finds us. The world in which we live grows increasingly estranged from the reality of the Resurrection. It prefers sentiment to truth, comfort to sacrifice, and appearance to substance. Even within the visible structures of the Church, confusion abounds: doctrine is obscured, liturgy is diminished, and the supernatural horizon is eclipsed by the temporal.
Against this, the Old Roman Apostolate exists not as a reaction, but as a witness.
We are custodians of a patrimony that is not ours to alter: the Faith once delivered to the saints, the Sacraments as they have been handed down, the liturgy formed by centuries of organic development, and the moral law inscribed by God Himself. In preserving these, we do not cling to the past—we safeguard the future.
For without the Resurrection, rightly understood and rightly lived, there is no future.
The Church does not renew herself by accommodation to the world, but by fidelity to Christ. And Christ is not encountered in novelty, but in continuity—in the same Sacrifice, the same doctrine, the same call to holiness that has sanctified souls in every age.
The Call to Personal Resurrection
Therefore, beloved faithful, let this Easter not pass as a festival alone. Let it be a turning point.
Rise from sin.
Rise from mediocrity.
Rise from the quiet despair that masquerades as realism.
The Resurrection is not an invitation to optimism—it is a command to holiness.
Let your homes become places where Christ truly lives: where prayer is habitual, where the Faith is taught without compromise, where charity is practiced not as sentiment but as sacrifice. Let fathers reclaim their role as spiritual heads, mothers as guardians of life and virtue, and the young as witnesses of courage in a confused age.
To the clergy of the Apostolate, I say this: preach the Resurrection not as comfort alone, but as truth that demands response. Offer the Holy Sacrifice with reverence, teach with clarity, and shepherd with courage. The faithful do not need ambiguity—they need certainty. They do not need novelty—they need Christ.
The Victory That Endures
Finally, remember this: the Resurrection does not eliminate the Cross—it transfigures it. The wounds remain in the glorified Body of Christ. So too in our lives, suffering is not abolished but given meaning. The Christian does not escape the Cross; he carries it in hope.
For the tomb is empty—and it will remain so.
Christ has risen. The victory is won. And yet, that victory must be claimed in each soul, in each family, in each community. This is the work of Easter—not merely celebration, but participation.
May the Blessed Virgin Mary, who stood at the foot of the Cross and rejoiced in the Resurrection, obtain for us the grace to live as true children of the Risen Lord.
Given this Easter, in the Year of Our Lord 2026,
from our Oratory in Brighton,
Christus resurrexit—resurrexit vere. Alleluia.
✠Jerome Seleisi
Titular Archbishop of Selsey
Primus of the Old Roman Apostolate
This week’s Nuntiatoria
This week’s Nuntiatoria
A Convergence of Dissonance: An Unconscionable Confusion
When the guardians of doctrine behave as though doctrine does not bind them, the scandal is not external—it is within.
What took place at the installation of Dame Sarah Mullally as Archbishop of Canterbury, was not an exercise in ecumenical sensitivity, but a public contradiction: the Roman Catholic hierarchy participating in a liturgical act whose central claims it formally denies.
The facts are not contested. Archbishop Richard Moth, newly of Westminster proclaimed a lesson within the rite.¹ Kurt, Cardinal Koch, acting as envoy of the Holy See, joined in common prayer and then delivered a message from the Pope offering congratulations and invoking divine blessing upon Mullally’s ministry.² These actions occurred within a formal liturgical and ecumenical context, not in private diplomacy.³
These are not incidental courtesies. They are liturgical acts. And liturgical acts signify.
Set beside this, the teaching of the Church is neither obscure nor negotiable. In Apostolicae Curae, Anglican orders are declared “absolutely null and utterly void.”⁴ In Ordinatio Sacerdotalis, it is taught definitively that the Church has no authority whatsoever to confer priestly ordination on women, a judgment confirmed by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.⁵ The Council of Trent affirms Holy Orders as a true sacrament conferring an indelible character.⁶ Pope Pius XII in Mystici Corporis Christi teaches that the hierarchical structure of the Church is divinely instituted and essential.⁷ Pope Leo XIII in Satis Cognitum insists that unity must rest upon full agreement in faith and sacramental life.⁸ Pope Pius XI in Mortalium Animos rejects forms of ecumenism that proceed by bracketing doctrinal truth.⁹ Even Unitatis Redintegratio insists that ecumenism must proceed “in fidelity to the truth.”¹⁰ Dominus Iesus reaffirms that communities lacking valid episcopate and Eucharist do not possess the Church in the proper sense.¹¹
This is the doctrinal framework. It is clear, consistent, and repeatedly reaffirmed.
What occurred at Canterbury stands in direct opposition to it.
A Catholic bishop reads Scripture within a rite that presumes a priesthood the Church says does not exist. A Cardinal prays within that same rite and then delivers papal congratulations to the one installed into an office the Church insists cannot be sacramentally real. A papal message is received within a ceremony whose central claim—the conferral of episcopal authority—is, in Catholic doctrine, a nullity.
This is not nuance. It is contradiction.
And it is presented as though it were edifying.
The faithful are not confused because the teaching is unclear. They are confused because the teaching is clear—and contradicted. They are told one thing and shown another, and then expected to reconcile the two without questioning either. They are instructed that apostolic succession is real, that Holy Orders are ontological, that the Church cannot alter their substance—and then shown, unmistakably, that these truths may be treated as negotiable in practice when circumstances demand it.
This is not pastoral care. It is institutional double-speak.
The modern term is gaslighting, and here it applies with precision. Reality is affirmed in one register and contradicted in another, and those who observe the contradiction are expected to question their perception rather than the coherence of what they are witnessing.
The symbolism compounds the problem. The ring given by Pope Paul VI to Michael Ramsey, once a carefully delimited gesture of goodwill, now appears in a context where it inevitably suggests continuity and recognition. Yet this is precisely what Catholic doctrine denies. The symbol affirms what the theology rejects.
And in such circumstances, the symbol prevails—because it is what is seen.
What renders the episode not merely incoherent but scandalous is the contrast it exposes. The same Catholic hierarchy willing to extend liturgical participation and public courtesy in this setting will not extend comparable recognition to the world’s traditional Catholic bishops—men who profess precisely the sacramental theology articulated at Trent and reaffirmed throughout the magisterium. They are not invited to proclaim Scripture, not welcomed to robe in choir, not incorporated into public rites. They are held at a distance.
Those who hold the Church’s doctrine without compromise are excluded. Those who reject it are received.
This is not inconsistency. It is inversion.
It is precisely this inversion that Pope Pius X identified in Pascendi Dominici Gregis: a system in which doctrine remains formally intact while its practical force is dissolved; where contradictions are not resolved but managed; where clarity is preserved in text and abandoned in action.
There was a time when such contradictions would have been resolved by clarity. Now they are managed by choreography.
One might have expected the work of Anglican–Roman Catholic International Commission to prevent precisely this outcome. It assumed that unity required truth and that disagreements concerning ministry and authority were decisive. Yet developments—explicitly acknowledged even in contemporary Vatican commentary—have introduced irreconcilable divergence.¹² And yet the gestures continue, as though nothing definitive has occurred.
This is not ecumenism ordered to truth. It is ecumenism ordered to appearance.
The cost is borne by the faithful. They are required to hold together what cannot be reconciled: to affirm what they are taught while disregarding what they are shown; to accept that participation does not imply recognition even as it visibly does.
They are asked to ignore the evidence of their own eyes.
A more honest course would have required nothing extraordinary. Not denunciation, but coherence. A refusal to participate in what one does not recognise. A willingness to let absence speak where presence confuses. A recognition that charity without truth is not charity at all.
If doctrine binds, it must bind in action. If it does not bind in action, it will not bind in belief. And if it does not bind in belief, it will not bind at all.
If the Church believes what she teaches, she must act accordingly.
If she does not, then the problem is no longer ecumenical.
It is internal.
And it is grave.
¹ Order of Service / eyewitness reporting of Bishop Richard Moth proclaiming a lesson at the installation liturgy.
² Vatican News, “Pope Leo XIV sends message to Archbishop of Canterbury,” March 2026.
³ Archbishop of Canterbury / Lambeth Palace official report on installation and ecumenical participation.
⁴ Apostolicae Curae §36.
⁵ Ordinatio Sacerdotalis; Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Responsum ad dubium (1995).
⁶ Council of Trent, Session XXIII.
⁷ Mystici Corporis Christi.
⁸ Satis Cognitum.
⁹ Mortalium Animos.
¹⁰ Unitatis Redintegratio §11.
¹¹ Dominus Iesus §17.
¹² Vatican News, reporting on ongoing Anglican–Catholic dialogue acknowledging “new differences,” March 2026.
Misplaced Hospitality: Why Ramadan Iftars Do Not Belong in Consecrated Churches
Why Christian hospitality during Lent is better expressed through works of mercy than through inter-religious ritual in sacred spaces.
Introduction: Courtesy and the Question of Christian Identity
In recent years a growing number of churches across Britain and Europe have hosted Ramadan iftars, the evening meal that breaks the Muslim fast during the holy month of Ramadan. In the United Kingdom such events have been held in Anglican cathedrals and parish churches as part of wider efforts at interfaith engagement and community cohesion.¹ Organisers frequently present them as gestures of friendship toward Muslim neighbours and as expressions of hospitality and shared values.
These motivations are usually sincere. Yet sincerity does not remove the deeper theological and canonical questions such events raise. When a church building—consecrated for Christian worship—becomes the venue for a religious observance associated with another faith, the issue is not merely social courtesy but the meaning and purpose of sacred space. What may appear at first glance to be a simple gesture of goodwill touches on long-standing Christian understandings of the Church, worship, and the public witness of the Gospel.
Misplaced Hospitality
Christian hospitality is a genuine virtue deeply embedded in the Gospel and the early life of the Church. The New Testament repeatedly emphasises the importance of welcoming the stranger and caring for those in need.² The Epistle to the Hebrews exhorts believers not to neglect hospitality, reminding them that “some have entertained angels unawares.”³ The early Christian communities became known throughout the Roman world for their charitable care of widows, the sick, and the poor.⁴
Yet Christian hospitality has always been understood as ordered toward charity and truth. The Church historically distinguished between welcoming individuals and participating in religious practices that contradict the Christian faith.⁵ Hospitality does not require the endorsement of theological claims that deny the central doctrines of Christianity.
Islam explicitly rejects several of these doctrines. The Qur’an denies that God has a Son and rejects the Trinity, declaring: “They do blaspheme who say: God is one of three.”⁶ Christianity, by contrast, proclaims the Triune nature of God and the divinity of Jesus Christ as the core of divine revelation.⁷ For this reason Ramadan is not merely a cultural festival but a religious observance embedded within a theological framework fundamentally different from that of Christianity.⁸
To host an iftar within a church setting therefore risks conveying the impression that Christians are not simply welcoming Muslim neighbours but participating in, or symbolically affirming, a religious practice rooted in a theology that explicitly denies the central claims of the Christian faith.
The Canonical Meaning of Sacred Space
The question becomes clearer when one considers the canonical status of church buildings. In both Catholic and Anglican traditions a church is not simply a gathering space but a place formally set apart for divine worship.
The Code of Canon Law of the Catholic Church defines a church as “a sacred building designated for divine worship, to which the faithful have the right of access for the exercise, especially public exercise, of divine worship.”⁹ Canon law further states that within sacred places only those activities that “serve the exercise or promotion of worship, piety, and religion” are permitted, and that uses incompatible with the sanctity of the place are forbidden.¹⁰
Similarly, the Canons of the Church of England affirm that a consecrated church is set apart “for the worship of Almighty God and for no other purpose inconsistent with that worship.”¹¹ The canons further regulate how church buildings may be used, requiring ecclesiastical permission for activities not directly connected with Christian worship and emphasising that such uses must not compromise the sacred character of the building.¹²
These canonical principles reflect a long Christian tradition in which church buildings are treated as sacred spaces dedicated to the proclamation of Christ and the celebration of the sacraments.¹³
The Adhān: A Confession of Islamic Faith
The theological significance of church-hosted iftars becomes even clearer when one considers how Ramadan observance normally begins. The breaking of the daily fast traditionally follows the adhān, the Islamic call to prayer announcing the sunset prayer known as maghrib.¹⁴
The adhān is not simply a ceremonial introduction to a meal. It is a public proclamation of Islamic belief. Among its words are the declarations:
“I bear witness that there is no god but Allah.”
“I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of Allah.”¹⁵
These statements are closely related to the shahāda, the foundational confession of Islam.¹⁶ The recitation of the adhān therefore marks the beginning of an act of Islamic worship rather than merely the start of a communal meal.
When the call to prayer is recited inside a church building, the space becomes the setting for the public proclamation of Islamic doctrine. This creates an obvious symbolic tension with the purpose of a church, which exists to proclaim the lordship of Jesus Christ and the saving truth of the Gospel.
Islamic Prayer and the Symbolism of Place
Islamic jurisprudence distinguishes between a permanent mosque (masjid) and a temporary place of prayer (musallā).¹⁷ A mosque normally requires formal dedication as a charitable religious endowment (waqf).¹⁸ The recitation of the call to prayer alone does not legally transform a building into a mosque.
Nevertheless the adhān has historically functioned as a powerful marker of Islamic religious presence. Early Islamic historical sources frequently record that when a city came under Muslim authority the first religious act was the proclamation of the call to prayer.¹⁹
Even today the recitation of the call to prayer indicates that a place has become a site of Islamic worship, even if only temporarily.²⁰ When the adhān is recited in a particular location, that place effectively functions as a setting for Islamic prayer.
If the call to prayer is recited within a Christian church, the building therefore becomes—at least for the duration of that act—a place where Islamic worship is publicly proclaimed. While the legal status of the building does not change, the symbolic message becomes difficult to ignore: a sanctuary dedicated to the worship of Christ is temporarily serving as a setting for the proclamation of another religion’s creed.
Unintended Religious Relativism
Events such as church-hosted iftars are often motivated by the desire to promote social harmony and mutual understanding. Yet the symbolism can easily suggest that the doctrinal differences between Christianity and Islam are merely superficial variations within a broader shared spirituality.
Historically Christianity has never understood itself in this way. The Church proclaims that Jesus Christ is the incarnate Son of God and the unique mediator between God and humanity.²¹ The Gospel does not present Christ as one religious teacher among many but as the one through whom salvation is offered to the world.
When churches host religious observances rooted in a theology that denies these claims, the impression may arise that such differences are unimportant. The result can be an unintended form of religious relativism.
False Equivalence Between Religions
Closely related to this problem is the risk of false equivalence. Christianity and Islam make fundamentally different claims about the nature of God, the person of Christ, and the means of salvation.
Islam affirms strict monotheism (tawḥīd) and explicitly rejects the Trinity and the divine sonship of Christ.²² Christianity proclaims the Triune nature of God and the incarnation of the Word as the heart of divine revelation.²³
Presenting the ritual practices of the two traditions as interchangeable expressions of devotion risks obscuring the depth of this theological divergence. Genuine dialogue between religions requires honesty about differences rather than symbolic gestures that blur them.
The Question of Reciprocity
There is also a practical observation that cannot be ignored: the absence of genuine reciprocity in the use of sacred spaces.
In most mosques the prayer hall itself is strictly reserved for Islamic worship, and activities conducted there are expected to conform to Islamic norms governing the sanctity of the space.²⁴ Islamic jurisprudence generally treats the mosque as a place dedicated to ritual prayer (salāh) and the remembrance of God rather than a neutral venue for interreligious gatherings.
It would therefore be extremely unusual for a mosque to permit an ecumenical meal within its prayer hall. Christian prayers would not normally be allowed, and the proclamation of doctrines such as the Trinity or the divinity of Christ would be incompatible with the religious purpose of the space.²⁵ In addition, the customary norms of many mosques involve gender separation within prayer spaces, reflecting established Islamic practice.²⁶
The result is a striking asymmetry. Christian churches are frequently presented as open venues for the religious practices of other faiths, while Islamic sacred spaces typically maintain clear boundaries regarding the forms of worship permitted within them.
A More Authentic Lenten Witness
None of these concerns require hostility toward Muslims or opposition to peaceful coexistence. Christians are called to treat all people with charity and respect. Yet charity must remain rooted in truth.
The irony is particularly striking when such events occur during the Christian season of Lent, a period traditionally devoted to fasting, repentance, prayer, and almsgiving.²⁷
The prophet Isaiah famously describes the true fast as sharing bread with the hungry and bringing the homeless poor into one’s house.²⁸ For the Fathers of the Church this passage became central to understanding the meaning of the Lenten fast.
St John Chrysostom taught that fasting must be accompanied by mercy toward the poor and warned that fasting without charity is empty.²⁹ St Leo the Great likewise instructed the faithful that what Christians deny themselves through fasting should become sustenance for the needy.³⁰
Historically the Church’s Lenten discipline therefore involved almsgiving, charitable distributions of food, and care for the poor.³¹ Christ Himself provides the pattern: “When you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind.”³²
When churches open their doors to feed the poor during Lent, the sacred space of the church is not being repurposed but fulfilled in its deepest vocation as the house of God and refuge of the needy.
Conclusion: Hospitality Ordered by Truth
The Church should never be afraid of kindness. But kindness must be ordered by truth. A church is not a neutral venue between religions but the house of God, dedicated to the proclamation of the Gospel and the worship of Christ.
When that identity becomes blurred—even in the name of goodwill—the Church risks forgetting the very purpose for which her sanctuaries were built.
At a deeper level, the phenomenon of church-hosted iftars reflects a broader cultural and theological shift that has affected many Christian communities in recent decades. The increasing influence of secularism, religious relativism, and a subjective emotionalism in matters of faith has encouraged the view that the Church’s primary role is to foster social harmony rather than to bear witness to the truth of the Gospel. In such a climate, symbolic gestures of inclusivity often take precedence over theological clarity.
Yet the Christian tradition has always insisted that charity and truth cannot be separated. A Church that becomes hesitant to affirm the distinctiveness of the faith entrusted to it inevitably weakens its own witness. When sacred spaces are treated as neutral venues for religious pluralism, the Church’s proclamation of Christ risks becoming indistinguishable from the surrounding culture.
The result is not greater relevance but the opposite. A Church that mirrors the assumptions of secular society eventually loses the very identity that once made it a moral and spiritual guide for that society. If Christian communities wish to remain credible in their mission and ministry, they must recover the confidence to preserve the integrity of their worship, their doctrine, and the sacred spaces dedicated to them.
It should also be noted that the concern raised here is not about the act of sharing food with Muslim neighbours itself. Hospitality between communities can be a good and constructive expression of civic friendship. If a parish wishes to host a meal during Ramadan in a church hall, parish centre, or other community space, such an event would not carry the same theological symbolism as holding it within a consecrated sanctuary. Community spaces exist precisely for social gatherings and shared civic life, and hosting an iftar in such a setting would avoid the confusion created when a sacred space dedicated to Christian worship becomes the venue for the rituals of another religion.
Hospitality toward all people is a Christian duty. But hospitality must always be shaped by the truth that the Church exists to proclaim: that Jesus Christ is Lord, and that the house dedicated to His worship is not a neutral hall of religious exchange but the place where the Gospel is proclaimed and the saving mystery of Christ is celebrated.
First published at Nuntiatoria
- See examples reported in UK church and national media of cathedral-hosted Ramadan events, e.g., Anglican diocesan communications and press coverage of interfaith iftars.
- Matthew 25:35; Romans 12:13.
- Hebrews 13:2.
- Rodney Stark, The Rise of Christianity (Princeton University Press, 1996), pp. 73–94.
- Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II–II, q.103–107.
- Qur’an 5:73.
- Catechism of the Catholic Church §§232–267.
- Jonathan A. C. Brown, Misquoting Muhammad (Oneworld Publications, 2014), pp. 165–168.
- Codex Iuris Canonici (1983), canon 1214.
- Codex Iuris Canonici (1983), canon 1210.
- Canons of the Church of England, Canon F18 §1.
- Canons of the Church of England, Canon F16; Canon F18.
- Joseph A. Jungmann, The Early Liturgy (University of Notre Dame Press, 1959).
- Mohammad Hashim Kamali, The Middle Path of Moderation in Islam (Oxford University Press, 2015), pp. 141–144.
- Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, Kitāb al-Adhān, hadith 603–605.
- William Montgomery Watt, Islamic Creed and Theology (Edinburgh University Press, 1985), pp. 12–16.
- Wael B. Hallaq, An Introduction to Islamic Law (Cambridge University Press, 2009), pp. 124–126.
- Michael Bonner, Islamic Endowments (Waqf) (Princeton University Press, 2005).
- Hugh Kennedy, The Great Arab Conquests (Da Capo Press, 2007), pp. 168–170.
- Kamali, The Middle Path of Moderation in Islam, pp. 142–143.
- John 14:6; 1 Timothy 2:5.
- Qur’an 112:1–4.
- Catechism of the Catholic Church §§232–260.
- Jonathan Bloom & Sheila Blair, The Grove Encyclopedia of Islamic Art and Architecture, entry “Mosque.”
- Wael B. Hallaq, An Introduction to Islamic Law, pp. 124–126.
- Marion Holmes Katz, Women in the Mosque (Columbia University Press, 2014).
- Thomas J. Talley, The Origins of the Liturgical Year (Liturgical Press, 1991).
- Isaiah 58:6–7.
- John Chrysostom, Homiliae de Jejunio, PG 49.
- Leo Magnus, Sermones, PL 54.
- Talley, Origins of the Liturgical Year, pp. 169–182.
- Luke 14:13–14.
