A lot of people in blogland have been shocked and appalled by the video of the dancing Franciscan that has recently surfaced. I was not. I've seen this act before. Certain branches of the Franciscans have been pulling this stunt for years. It seems to be a grafted on part of their charism. Back in the 80s I was in high school and in religion class we were "treated" to a one man show on the life of St. Francis. The actor portrayed the great saint as a disgusting flake who twirled and gyrated all over Italy while picking flowers. I was repulsed and it that show was meant to convince the boys in my class that they might have a Franciscan vocation it failed. Certain Franciscans took that crap act to heart and so we get to see brothers and priests prancing around the church on occasion. Now to business. What do you do when your priest suddenly busts a grand jete? Leave! Act as if the devil just jumped up in the middle of the floor -- because he has-- and haul yourself and your family out of that parish. Father Flaky and Brother Chorus Boy act like this because we allow it. I don't care if you've been in this parish since the 60s. I don't care if your great grandpa built the pew you're sitting in. I don't care if your grandmother's likeness is immortalized in the stained glass window behind the altar. Leave these parishes and take your money with you and then Bishop Wimpy will take notice. Letter writing and muttering in the car won't cut it.
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| St. Francis, pray for us |
The Pope went to a porta potty so the media and locals stood around and took photos as he entered and left. One report even felt the need to include the length of his visit. This whole idolization of a pope as if he were a rock star has reached a new level of idiocy.
The Vice President wisely does not meet women alone and does not go to parties without his wife. The same people who cheered Bill Clinton are mocking him. What a mad world. My husband also doesn't go to parties without me and he doesn't eat with or have one on one closed door meetings with his female co-workers and staff. When I eat lunch with men it's in a group, never one on one. It only takes one misunderstanding or flat out lie to ruin your life. Most working people with an ounce of sense already know this.