Last August Archbishop (now Cardinal) Brady, in a homily given in Milwaukee and repeated in Armagh, listed several social ills, which he claimed were unsettling many people in the modern world. Amongst the examples which he cited was the belief that it is possible to foretell the future, through the employment of various devices and agencies. What he had in mind is the conviction held by people that astrology, necromancy and divination can predict their personal futures and the tendency for such people to have such signs and omens rule their lives. It is an echo of G K Chesterton's observation that, in a secular age, it is not the case that people believe in nothing, but rather, that they believe in anything.
The business of prediction has had a long history: the ancients did not discriminate between astronomy and astrology. The former is a legitimate academic science practised by the likes of Patrick Moore, the latter is a bogus science, which, nonetheless, has a huge following, albeit taken by its adherents with varying degrees of seriousness. The Romans of the Classical age were great given to augurs and portents, many of them relating to the flights of birds, and the ominous significance of their birds singing at a time of day when they are not normally heard. They also had the practice of sacrificing animals and birds and looking for signs and omens by reading the entrails of these unfortunate creatures. Ancient Celtic peoples used to cast runes or carved stones, and interpreting the configurations in which they landed as indicators of the future. Some of the Roman superstitions about birds survive in folk rhymes, still to be heard, about the numbers in which magpies are seen and the casting of runes has a modern parallel in the reading of tea cups. Fair days in the Ireland of yesteryear would have had their 'prophecy men' and no local funfair was complete without its resident fortune-teller, a lady who would require to have her hand crossed with silver before gazing into her crystal ball. Most people treated these practices as a bit of a lark, though some people were convinced that the fortune tellers possessed uncanny powers.
In more recent terms, leaders such as Hitler put great faith in unorthodox ways of foretelling the future. Hitler's generals were distraught at many of the decisions which the Fuhrer took and looked askance at the mumbo-jumbo which governed his more bizarre decisions. Last month saw the death of German astrologer, one Ludwig van Wohl, who offered his services to British military intelligence during World War II, telling them that he could be of great benefit to the war effort by second-guessing what Hitler's astrologers were telling him. His offer was politely declined.
It has been said that Ronald Regan commissioned astrologers to make personalised charts for him and on days when the omens were not favourable he would make no decisions of consequence. At least one historian is of the belief that Reagan considered it a propitious day for negotiations when he met with Mikhail Gorbachev in Iceland, when agreements were signed as part of a process that hastened the end of the Cold War. Tony Blair's wife, Cherie, had for many years a close relationship with a friend and counsellor, a Ms Caplin, who had a great belief in crystals and other mystic substances. There is no evidence, however, that Mr Blair was influenced by any of this obscurantism.
Most of us take an occasional glance at the horoscopes printed in the daily newspapers, if only to confirm how inaccurate and ridiculous they really are. Some years ago when lay-offs were being mooted on a major Fleet Street newspaper, the first guy into the Editor's office to ask if his job was safe was the bloke who compiled the horoscope. Earlier this year a magazine called 'Astrology Today' abruptly ceased publication, "Due to unforeseen circumstances." I recall, several years ago, an irate psychic, complaining on RTE radio about how terribly his business was being affected by a postal strike in the Republic. The interviewer could not resist asking him, "Could you not have seen this coming?"
Some people who would never countenance looking at a horoscope in a newspaper put great faith in such 'prophets' as Nostradamus, the 16th century French seer, who many claim had predicted the rise of Hitler and the outbreak of the Second World War. The trouble with the likes of Nostradamus is that their language is so vague and obscure that it could mean anything.
The Victorian novelist George Eliot once remarked: "Of all human activity, prophecy is the least necessary." That by no means stifles the appetite for it.
In evidence the court heard that the defendant had been charged with collecting monies under false pretences by giving the impression to the public that the money contributed in good faith by the donors was going to charity, when, in fact, he himself was the sole beneficiary. What added insult to injury was that the defendant was accoutred in the habit of a monk from a mendicant Order. The defendant denied any attempt at deception, and explained the clerical garb by pointing out that the heavy woollen robe helped to keep him warm in the winter weather. "In other words" said the RM, "It was for him a cowl day."
Bertie Ahern tried to put a brave face on things on the occasion of his recent decision to stand down as Taoiseach by reminding radio listeners that he had announced last year that he "Was going to go anyway."
This calls to mind the story of the fellow who fell from a roof on a building site. Asked if he was okay, he reassured his mates, "Sure, I was intending to come down the ladder anyway." A decent man who will be sadly missed.
A fish and chip shop on the Newtownards Road in Belfast rejoices in the name 'For Cod and Ulster'.
A guy goes into an off-licence in Belfast and asks for a bottle of wine and a half bottle of whiskey.
The woman behind the counter tells him, "That'll be £10.66." "Ten sixty-six" sez he, "Battle of Hastings." "Jimmy" she shouts, "There's a bloke here looking for a battle of Hastings."
From RTE quiz show:
Presenter: What is the name of the long-running BBC TV comedy show about pensioners. The Last of the ......
Caller: Mohicans.
The knock-on effect continues after the collapse of the US bank Bear Sterns.
If the financial recession gets any worse, we will all be walking about with bare sterns.
