give converts a break

I was reading yet another snippy comment on a blog about converts and sighed. My husband is a convert of five years and he's a better Catholic than I, who was baptized at age nine.
He's a better Catholic than most of the Catholics I know. Last year a number of cradle Catholics asked him to take over managing the young adult bible study. He declined because of his work schedule.
Now I know it's true that there are a bunch of former Evangelical converts who have become obnoxious with their apologetics businesses. I don't care for these people. When I'm in a Catholic bookstore or at an event with books I pass right by their wares.

I've read defenders of the apologetics businessmen that argue that many of these guys were preachers and it's all they know so lay preaching and teaching is the only way they can make a living. I once read the blog of a married priest in South Carolina who enthusiastically praised Mark Shea for being so heroic. Me, being a smart alec wrote in, along with some other commenters that I didn't see what was so heroic. Father responded by saying it was heroic that Shea was giving himself fully to teaching us when he could've had a pleasant life in his old church. Since this blogger is an ordained priest I didn't say what I really thought and let it go.

There's a huge difference from the professionals and the passionate convert sitting next to you at Mass. The professionals are irritating but don't let them poison your view of converts in general. It's just not fair. Oh and one more thing, every single one of the first Catholics were converts. I think Sts. Paul, Peter, Martha, John, the Magdalene, James, and Jude and the others are pretty good company to be in.

Oh Bristol, Bristol, Bristol

Oh baby, I know Levi is kinda cute and he obviously has the sad puppy eyes and the silver tounge thing down pat but sweetie, darling if you marry him you'll end up supping at Sorrow's 24 hour diner with a long spoon.

Loved the Amish, hated Philly

On our last day in the lovely Pennslyvania Dutch country we came across a benefit auction for Haiti. There were hundreds of parked buggies and swarms of well mannered happy kids. Amish ladies sewed and donated over 100 quilts, there was furniture, food, and crafts for auction as well. I have great respect for the Amish in general but I was especially touched by the kindness of these people.

The next day Rocky and I went to Philadelphia. The City of Brotherly Love was an experience. The visitor's center is poorly arranged, confusing and had only one set of smelly restrooms that were at the end of a looooong hallway. And while the civilian staff was fine, the park rangers were shockingly rude and unhelpful. We got into the line at one o'clock but were curtly told us that we could not get into Independence Hall until the five o'clock tour. Okay, could we buy tickets for the five o'clock tour? Nope. Come back at five and wait. Gee, thanks.

Another ranger yelled at Rocky because he wanted him to move away from the ladies room. Rocky politely but firmly let the ranger know that no, he wasn't loitering, he was waiting for his wife. Thanks to a combination of heat and something I ate, I was suddenly, miserably, violently sick and took a good twenty minutes to recover. When I finally came out the ranger scowled but said nothing. Since this guy had sat on his butt all day in the nice air conditioned visitor center I don't know what his malfunction was.

Rather than wait around until five we took the Big Bus City tour and it was terrible. The tour buses are dirty, stinky and in run down condition, the windows are small so you can't see anything really unless you're on top of the bus in the double decker level. The buses have no air conditioning and in order to get people off and on quickly they never shut the doors. The highlights of the tour for me were seeing the Rocky steps and statue and the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul. The cathedral ambassadors were very nice women and the cathedral is the most beautiful one I've ever seen. I'll go back to Philly one of these days but I'm in no hurry. The city really does a piss poor job handling tourists.

Master Chief at St. James

We went to Mass at St. James in Litiz, Pennsylvania. It was interesting and a bit sad. The church is very plain. It looks like a Quaker Catholic church, if there was such a thing but the pews were the most comfortable I've ever sat in. At first I thought we'd come to a special Mass becuase we were at least 25 years younger than anybody else there. But no, it was the regular 5 PM vigil. Before Mass we heard Chopin's Prelude #15, The Raindrop which I love but it isn't meant for church and it always makes me think of Halo now. The parishioners sang with gusto--- the Servant Song , which is about the singers, and God not so much and and another song that was startlingly self congratulatory.

Veronica's Veil

Vacation

Rocky and I are going on vacation and I really need it. I'm exhausted and more than a little cranky thanks to a mild bout with insomnia. On top of that I always get jittery in July anyway because it's annual review time and I can't stand the whole process but mine went well (whew!) and I'm getting a raise.

One of the greatest things in the world is to be on a long, windy country road with my dear husband Rocky. Cares just melt away..........

the novice

When I was a little girl I wanted to be a Poor Clare or a Carmelite like St Therese..............

Are you a poor ambassador for Christ?

There is a fiery blogger who's a lasped Catholic and still quite angry about her experience in the annulment courts who once wrote that it doesn't matter what the good priest says if the average person finds the Christians he meets day to day, utterly repulsive.

Sisters of Mercy

an odd thing

St. Josemaria Esciva once had a letter from a friend who complained that the Mass was too long. The saint wrote back that the friend's love was too small. I'm often reminded of this when I see people leaving Mass early. Some leave right after communion. Others bolt as soon as the priest begins reading the announcements. I sympathize with these latter folks a tiny bit. There's no reason for the priest to read what's in the bulletin unless most of the people in the pews are known to be illiterate. Then there are the scowling or distracted folks who just about run me over in the parking lot trying to peal out. By their actions they all are screaming "Thank God that's over. I've done my obligation, now let's go eat!" I've seen old folks do this and younger people as well so it's not a generational thing. Are these people protesting in some way? Are they just lazy? What is it?


When did it become so widespread to do the barest bare minimun regarding the Mass? My husband's Baptist grandmother rarely left her church sooner than an hour after the service. She was talking to her friends, talking to the pastor, talking to the choir director about the performance or making plans for the next church dinner. My grandmother never rushed out of little un-air conditioned Bethesda Baptist either. Sunday was the highlight of her week. She loved going to church. I don't get that impression from most of the Catholics I see in the pews around here.

Men's hearts have grown cold. We are casual with the Lord when we come to Mass and then rush away from Him as soon as we can. Men's hearts have grown cold.

Two ghastly blogs and one confusing one

I discovered a newish blog written by a stay at home wife. I won't link to it or even say the name. I'd rather not send her any traffic, nor do I want her to visit me here. She's a Christian but I don't ever want to set foot inside her church if she's an example of what her denomination produces. She dislikes career women, women who aren't her class and really has a bee in her bonnet about well...let's just say that she reminds me of Mae Ella Ewell and Queen Gertrude's famous line.

The other blog is a sedevacantist blog that I came across accidentally. When the page first loads it looks lovely and then once you start reading a few posts you realizet that you've wandered into drooling insane land. I was tempted to write a comment but it would be pointless to try to tell the writers that yes, Benedict is the pope and no, Michelle Obama's tacky clothes are not a sign of the apocalypse.

Finally, there's one weirdly fascinating blog, written by a guy, who occasionally writes for Inside Catholic. He's saying something but damn if I can figure out what.

St. Germaine, pray for us

Once upon a time a shabby little man stole some money from his boss. That's a bad idea in most cases but especially so in this one. The boss did not call the police. Instead he and some goons showed up at the man's house with the intent of doing him serious body harm as an example to others who might try the same thing. The man, a miserable thief was also the lowest form of coward and offered his daughter as a way to clear the debt. The boss accepted. Time passed.

Eventually someone, a horrified neighbor perhaps or maybe a teacher from the daughter's school, decided to call the police. The boss and the thieving coward father went to jail. The poor girl went to the County Home and her child went to foster care. The people who fostered the child wish to adopt her. The case is before a judge. The social workers involved in the case are fighting the adoption becuase the foster parents are white. They would have this innocent child remain in foster care until a nice black family comes along or until the natural mother fully recovers from her ordeal and is fit to take care of another living soul. It's possible that these two options will never happen.

St. Germaine, patron of abused children pray for this young mother and for this innocent child who's life is hanging on the judge's decision

Dymphna goes to the convention

I've been at the American Library Association convention all weekend. It's always a blast being around other librarians. I noticed two interesting things:

First, Catholic publishers do a really pathetic job of promoting themsleves and the Faith. I saw booths from Tyndale, the Mormons and Zondervan publishers. I even saw two Islamic publishers. Not one Catholic publisher got even a tiny booth at the biggest collection of librarians in North America. Where was Ignatius Press? Where was Tan? Instead of tyring to make Catholic book readers feel guilty by sending them begging letters and e-mails--- I'm looking at you Envoy and Sophia Press---somebody should've been at work in DC this weekend.

Second, the vampire craze in teen lit seems to have peaked. Instead I saw a number of sexy demon romance books.That's right. Instead of fantasizing about a vampire or were wolf or wizard your teenager can now imagine herself in the arms of lover who might actualy drag her to hell. Come back Edward Cullen, you brooding, sparkly little wimp, all is forgiven.

"L'Expiation" by Emile Friant

Look at the priest in this painting. See how he's embracing, comforting and perhaps even begging the criminal to repent and then have no fear.

odd things in No Va

The Muslim population in Northern Virginia is enjoying explosive growth, (no pun intended). Rocky and I went for a drive on Sunday and saw three new mosques. One has been around for ages but the others were new. Many of the converts seem to be studious looking, elegantly dressed middle class white women striding to class or to downtown DC offices. This is striking. For most of my life American Muslim converts were guys who found the Nation of Islam in prison, or young impressionable guys who got all emotional after reading The Autobiography of Malcom X.

Why would an American woman convert to Islam? Do they not know about female circumcision or the child brides or what happens to women who show too much skin in Saudi Arabia or any skin in Taliban controlled land? Did they read too many sheikh romance novels? I'm guessing that none of them has ever heard of Betty Mahmoody or read Camen bin Laden's book.

I wonder if these women are the same sort who spent the 60s hanging around some guru in California or if they're just rebelling in some way? Perhaps they never met a Christian alpha male before and the confindence and command of a Muslim man swept them off their feet. It's odd and interesting and rather like discovering that a skunk has walked into your kitchen through the doggie door.

Oh Mary help of Christians, pray for your silly daughters.

My itty bitty wedding

I was reading a blog by a man who grumbled about a tacky wedding, full of uncultured, dullard guests that he officiated. He really doesn't like weddings. I get that. Most men don't but why is this man, a permanent deacon, doing a job that he so dislikes? Can't the parish send him out on sick calls or something and leave weddings to the priest?

Rocky and I actually eloped in Baltimore and presented everyone with a fait acompli.No Pre-Cana crap for us and no living like brother and sister for a year either. @ Thanks to our realistic and understanding pastor we got truly married as soon as possible at St. Ignatius Church in Ft. Washington, Maryland and we did it on the cheap. We didn't have flowers, music, or air conditioning. It was night and we got the essentials. A fan, just enough electric light for us to make our way into the darkened church, a priest, witnesses and the loving embrace of Holy Mother Church.

Rocky was still a Baptist then and no, he could'nt have expounded on the teachings of St. Thomas Aquinas. I'm not sure I could've manged more than a basic biography either. I wore a floppy baby's breath wreath from the grocery florist, that made Fr. Werner wonder about women's fashions, made my own cake, and served coca cola and possibly cocktail meatballs (I can't remember, I know there was some kind of meat product) for our less than a handfull of guests in our brand new apartment. Father chain smoked. I completely forgot about a camera and so did everyone else so there are no photos. The sour deacon would've probably had the vapors if he'd been present.

@No, I'm not saying that's the right way to do things. It's just the way we did it.

Goodbye Father

Whenever I think of Father's Day I can't help but remember the day back in 1982, when I walked into a Hallmark to buy my dad a Father's Day card. I browsed and picked the perfect one. I took two steps and suddenly the realizaton hit me. My father passed away that April. Somehow I had just blanked it out. I rushed out of the store and stood gasping in the sun on the sidewalk.

Today Father Gandalf announced that he and Fr. Frodo are both being transfered. Oh gee what a kick in the gut. I hate weepy women but tears blasted from my eyes and I could barely focus on my ususal after Mass prayers. I've always seen the good priests in my life as soldiers in a desparate war. They go where they are needed. One must expect to lose them. As for the bad to mediocre priests, well, one either thanks God when they leave or give a shrug of the shoulders and move cheerfully on. And yet, Father Gandalf was special. He was more than a pastor. Rocky and I hold him in greatest esteem, not just because of his priesthood but because he is a flat out saintly man.

All things are passing.

Bathtub Madonnas

I saw this photo on the fabulous Crescat blog and went looking for more images like it. I hit the jackpot with the Catholic Home and Garden site. The woman who created it has a treasure of Catholic folk customs and art. Her page on wayside and bath tub shrines was such a delight. Next I found a collection of shrine photos from Massachussets here.

St. Clare and St. Francis and St. Anthony

I don't think of myself as much of a Franciscan. I've never been inclined to join the Third Secular Order but Rocky and I have often found ourselves and peace at Franciscan monasteries.

This morning Rocky went to Mass at one of his favorite places, the Poor Clare monastery in Alexandria and heard the sisters chanting. We always spend Good Friday at the Franciscan monastery in DC, and we love visiting the St. Anthony shrine in Ellicot City, Maryland. So it's with some dismay that I have to ask what's going on at the DC Holy Land monastery.

Therapists now offer various questionable services somewhere on the grounds and pro abortion, pro gay marriage, MSNBC loudmouth, Chris Matthews is going to be the key note speaker at a dinner given by the Catholic Network of Volunteer Service at the monastery's banquet hall next week. The good folks at Restore DC Catholicism are planning to picket.

The ideas of picketing at the Holy Land monastery of all places makes me sad and I'm positive that the older friars probably don't even know who Chris Matthews is but the guardian friar of the monastery has a duty to know what's going on in the holy place he's charged with protecting. Perhaps the lay staff who advise the guardian have let him down. The Holy Land monastery is God's house. People who are publicly not in accord with what the Bride of Christ, the Holy Catholic Church teaches ought not be honored on the property.

Dear St. Francis, St. Clare and beloved St. Anthony, pray for your brothers.

A sad sight.

A few days ago when Rocky and I saw a young girl wearing a dress that appeared to be a one piece swimsuit. She was strutting along with a smile until she passed by several Latino men. They said something to her and laughed. The smile vanished from her face and she nervously tried to yank the hem of her dress down to cover her thighs and panties. There wasn't enough material to do that so of course, her efforts failed. I watched the men. If any of them had made a move towards her I would've motioned for her to get in our car. Luckily, they were content to laugh and she was able to cross the street and go on her way in peace. Rocky was angry at the men for bothering the poor little thing, but he was amazed at the foolishness of the girl. I wasn't.

Our society tells young women that to be free and empowered, (how I hate that word) they must appear in public in states of semi nudity. It's rather like the pagan priestesses who were required to expose themselves to the worshipers as they asceneded the steps from their sacrifices. If you don't want to play this game, people call you a prude, repressed or frumpy---- oh horrors! Feminists insist that men shouldn't even enjoy look at the "freedom" display which is insanity. Of course men look. Even gay men are looking. The meanest, nastiest critics of ill dressed women tend to be gay men. Heck the entire fashion world is men like this telling us how to dress.

I don't ever, ever want to dress like a Muslim woman or rogue Mormon plural wife and I wouldn't want that young girl on the street to be forced to dress like that either but I wish I could tell her that you don't have to be a vulgarian to be a free woman. Elegance, beauty and even glamour can all be achieved while fully clothed.

St. Maria Goretti, pray for us.

St. Pelagia, pray for us.

St. Agnes, pray for us.

Sacred Heart images :Good, bad, and downright cringeworthy.

The above image of Our Lord was done in 1896 by Jose Maria Ibarran y Ponce. I like it. On the other hand, I really, really hate this particular image of Our Lord. It's so girly. What on earth was Simione thinking? This one is taken out once a year at my church. It's better than the Simione one but that little mustache and the goateed beard are horrible. As far as modern art goes this image is probably the best image Our Lord and His Sacred Heart I've seen.

Lady Gaga

When I first saw a picture of Lady Gaga I assumed that I was seeing a photograph of a female impersonator, but no, this creature is female. Her new video is obscene (well she's done that before) and is blasphemous. I won't bother to rant about Gaga, she's a lost cause unless Heaven intervenes.

The irritating thing is how many Catholics will and do buy her music. Oh they'll claim that it's okay because they're adults and that they don't let their kids listen or if their kids already own the album they've "discussed" it. They may even say that they only watched the foul video---which offends Our Lady--- so that they could competently criticize it. What a crock. What an utter crock.

You don't have to wallow in manure to know that it smells bad. I've said it before, I'll say it again. If Catholics kept our money in our wallets we wouldn't have to write op/eds or do useless protest marches. A half way moral public could send Lady Gaga back to music school tomorrow if most of us simply stopped buying her sewage today.

Body of Christ

how to ruin your life -- the men's edition

Rocky went to visit a relative a while back and found that the afternoon was a lot like walking into a warzone. The relative is unhappily married and has given up on the hope of being happy. He's hanging in there for the sake of his kids, his home and his position in his church. Misery just hung in the air like a black cloud.

Guys if you want to be unhappy just:

• marry a woman who is intellectually dull and then complain that she's dumb ---not fair, dude!
  
• marry a woman who is one or two social classes below or above you and then expect her to see the world the sme way you do
  
• marry a helpless woman who needs to be rescued---- that won't be romantic at all five years down the line when you find that she's incapable of managing the house, the children, the dog or herself
  
• marry a woman who comes from an abusive background and then be shocked that it left a mark on her spirit
  
  
• marry a woman whom you do not respect and never will
  
  
• marry a woman who sees the marriage as a way out of a bad situation
  
  
• marry a woman without learning about her past

Saints Gengulf, Rita, Monica and mighty St. Joseph, pray for us.

are deacons the new nuns?

This guy asks the question. Dear Lord, I hope not. The mannish, pant suit nuns have done a whole lot of damage.

Sacred Heart

This is the Sacred Heart image in my bedroom.

the nicest things

• Listening to the sparrows sing in the mornings.
• Seeing the goose couple that lives near the swimming pool with their six goslings.
• The smell of mulch. Yeah, it's chicken manure but it means they'll be flowers in a few days.
• The sight of Fr. praying before Mass.
• The way the church looks when there's no light but the candles.
• The smell of rain.
• The smell of the river.
• Standing up to my knees in the ice cold ocean.
• Rocky's Pope colonge
• barbeque at Dixie Bones in Prince William County
• antique statues of Our Lady
• catching sight of red finches
• seeing an osprey catch a fish
• the flight of the turkey vulture, they are ugly up close and on the ground but in the air there's nothing that can touch them.
• the smooth, thick anticipatory silence in St. Rita's before Mass.

Mansions of the Lord

Memorial Day is not about going to the beach, getting 49% off your towels, or free shipping on your catalog order. It's about honoring the fallen.

Now this is a vocations poster

HT to Cleansing Fire.

Does Archbishop Gomez give a damn

about American Catholics? I got the impression from this interview that the only thing we are good for is to aid and comfort illegal aliens. I recently read a sad story about an old couple in Arizona who are trying to sell thier home because they are sick and tired of being scared all the time. Why? They live very close to the US/Mexican border and every night packs of men come walking past thier house. Most of these people keep on going but enough of them are threatening, have stolen things from the couple's property and leave a mountain of trash in their wake that the couple just want to get out. It was supposed to be thier retirement home. But I guess Archbishop Gomez would just tell them that they are being xenophobic and need to joyfully welcome the vibrant men who are swarming past their house.

I'm sure that Archbishop Gomez will be a huge improvement over Cardinal Mahoney but I'm getting really sick of this attitude.

Sometimes shepherds lose their way

I don't trust Jesuits anymore. I don't think St. Ignatius would be happy with a spiritual son who denies transubstantiation.

Why is a deacon's wife giving a homily?

Our Lady of the Highways

When Rocky and I head north to New York we drive past the Our Lady of the Highways shrine. It's a comforting sight.

For Jackie

...despise not our petitions, O Immaculata, but in your clemency, hear and answer them, we pray

Keep calm and say your rosary

I just ordered this necklace from Etsy. I can't wait til it comes in the mail.

Three good Catholic books.

I read on the Gregorian Rite Catholic blog once that most Catholic books being published today are mediocre. I'm inclined to agree. After being burned a couple of times I now know to never spend a dime on anything published by Our Sunday Visitor, or the Paulists.

I mostly stick to Tan and just finished reading one of their publications, a sobering and well written book, Hungry Souls about the Poor Souls in purgatory. It's a a keeper and will stay on your mind for a long time.


I'm now reading Consoling the Heart of Jesus written by a seminarian and Purest of Lillies an awesome book by Fr. Donald Callaway.

Cardinal John Newman and some sad news

What's the deal with Cardinal Newman? I've read some pretty ugly, crazy(?) things from some people and ecstatic praise from others. Who's right?

I just read that a delightful young seminarian who is battling a brain tumor has had a set back.

Dear Lord, please preserve this young man, give him the strength to endure his chemo treatments and please let him recover and return to the seminary in the Fall. Amen.

St. Aloyisious Gonzaga, pray for him.
Servant of God, Frank Perater, pray for him.
Fr. Eugene Hamilton, pray for him.
St. Charles Borromeo, patron of seminarians, pray for him.

Christ, by Gari Melchers

Most people who know of Gari Melchers' art remember his nativity painting but this is the first time that I've seen his painting of Our Lord as an adult.

Catholics and the glamour of evil

I'm going to say up front that I'm for the death penalty in certain cases. If you aren't that's okay. We can disagree. I don't want to change your mind. I mention that because I'm irritated right now, no, disgusted at what I read on two Catholic blogs yesterday. A man was executed for a spree killing murder and the bloggers and comenters were far more sympathetic to him than to the families of his victims.

Some people say that Catholics are just following along with the rest of the world and that this sympathetic, therapeutic view of killers started with "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote. Capote's book was primarily about two miserable human beings who slaughtered an entire family. People pitied the killers but forgot all about the victims which angers their families and the townsfolk to this day. Whenever I think of "In Cold Blood," I think, not of the two twisted young men but of Farmer Clutter and the agony he must have felt as he lay tied up in his basement and realized that there was nothing he could do to save his wife and kids or himself.

But back to the recent execution. The two bloggers who commented seemed really disturbed that the widow of one of the murder victims said, "Sorry doesn't cut it," and that she wanted the killer to quit making excuses and admit to what he did. Well, I'm standing with the widow.
"Gee ma'am I'm sorry that I blew your husband's brains out and robbed him as he lay dying but it wasn't my fault. I had a bad childhood. I'm depraved because I'm deprived. We're square now, okay?," does not cut it.

In this case the killer seems to have made a conversion, thanks be to God. He said the rosary before he died. The victims families were not impressed which also upset the bloggers who seemed to suggest that the killer is more righteous than the families. We don't know the state of anyone's soul. Think about the victims who didn't have the comfort of last rites and probably didn't have enough time to repent of their sins. Sit with the widows and watch them try to figure out how to go on. Listen to the orphans cry. Visit with someone who remembers what it's like to go to the morgue and indentify a loved ones horribly disfigured body. Don't just point fingers at the families and airily say, "You just need to forgive, you bad people." That just comes off as smug and presumptuous. Besides I thought Christians were supposed to have a special sympathy for the widow and the orphan. I didn't see any of that on display on those blogs. I hope these poor folks can find peace and forgiveness but shaking fingers at them doesn't help the process. Where is the compassion for these suffering, forgotten people who have been through so much pain and agony for so long? The glamour of evil really is stupefying.

Gussie

I was walking past my old church and saw Gussie, one of the regulars-- the guys who stand on the church steps or sidewalk and ask/demand money from the churchgoers. I've known Gussie for years. He's tall, thin and as tough as a wire cable and could be anywhere from 30 to 50. He does not like women much but he's always polite and respectful with me.

Some people look at Gussie and think that his problem is a lack of affordable housing. Nope, Gussie's problem is that he's a werewolf. No, he doesn't howl at the moon or have an excess hair problem. He looks normal from a distance but if you look, really look, into his eyes or once you get to know him you see that , the wild beast lives inside him and is just barely contained. If I were to walk into one of the parish hall rooms and find myself alone with Gussie I'd break all speed records trying to get out of there before he even noticed me.

Gussie isn't on crack, he's too healthy looking for that. He's not using coke, that's too expensive and I've never smelled alchohol on him. My guess is heroin since I've never seen him wear anything but long sleeves.

Run into Gussie when he's run out of cash for the month and needs an infusion of whatever he's on you'll see the wolf inside him. I've watched Gussie scare the heck of tourists and little old ladies. He's never touched anyone to my knowlege at least, but he can move very quickly and is uncomfortably close to victims before they even notice him coming. He'll "ask" for money but in a tone of voice that indicates that you'd better cough up the cash.

Another one of the regulars, a frail elderly man in a wheelchair was so afraid of Gussie that he would not sit in front of the cathedral but parked his chair at the corner under a tree. Gussie hated him because people naturally preferred to give to him rather than the strong, bristling young men on the cathedral steps and sidewalk. I made sure to always give poor old Elmer something.

Someone is probably thinking, 'Well Dymphna do you give Gussie money?' Of course I do. I know what he's likely doing with the money but that dollar keeps Gussie from getting desperate enough to hurt someone. There have been a few success stories among the regulars. One woman has cleaned herself up. Her brain is largely pickled by decades of alcoholism and she'll never be able to hold a job but at least she's not drinking now. Another man has gotten himself a bicycle and does odd jobs. Maybe Gussie will change. It's doubtful but miracles have happened before.

St. Matthew, pray for us.

St. Michael, pray for us.

Creepy--- when politicians want to play church

a

Nancy Pelosi did an interview in which she blithely admits to telling bishops and cardinals what they should preach at Mass. She seems to think she's the pope but she's closer to Lady Macbeth. If I ever hear my bishop tell me to embrace illegal immigration and apparently all that goes with it, at any Mass I attend I will get up and walk out until the homily is over.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama

May Mary, mother of us all, pray for you and keep you close to her immaculate heart.

This lovely painting is Our Lady of the Fruits of the Earth by Frank Cowper.

After all these years since 9/11

After all these years we still have no memorial to the dead at Ground Zero. We will however, have a mosque near the site of the slaughter. I used to be bulemic from my teens to 22. This news stirs the old obessive compulsive need to vomit. Craven blind fools rule our nation.

Pray for the dead. Knock some sense into the living.

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen

Okay Christians, what's your excuse for still watching Comedy Central?

This is disgusting.



May the most holy, most sacred, most adorable, most incomprehensible and ineffable Name of God be forever praised, blessed, loved, adored and glorified in Heaven, on earth, and under the earth, by all the creatures of God, and by the Sacred Heart of Our Lord Jesus Christ, in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. Amen.

Miss Prima's post made me kinda sad

but I think what she wrote , harsh as it is, has a point.

Going to visit St. Rita

Rocky and I went to the St. Rita Shrine in Philadelphia. It's very beautiful and they have the most awe inspiring adoration chapel I've ever seen. We prayed before her relics and admired the magnificent murals depicting her life. They have confession every day and we met two wonderful Augustinian priests and a charming lady in the gift shop.

The next day we went to the parish around the corner from our bed and breakfast, St. Paul's.
It was amazing. We had cheesesteak (delicious) , cannoli from Isgro's . I've never had finer cannoli in my life. We also at the oldest Italian restaurant in the city, Dante & Luigis. It was a good trip.

If you want to feel sorry for someone....

I know it's fashionable at the moment to slobber and weep over illegal aliens but spare some pity for the wife and children of this man. I'll bet Cardinal Mahoney didn't say a damn thing on their behalf.

Random thoughts on love, sex, and other stuff

• A local young woman and her three year old daughter were murdered recently by her boyfriend. He had no fixed address, frequented homeless shelters and when he wasn't in the shelter he lived with friends. He was completely unsuitable for any kind of relationship but the poor woman brought him into her life and loved him until he got dangerous and then it was too late. Why do so many women have so little love or respect for themselves and thier helpless kids that they gravitate towards the worst possible man? Single motherhood by choice, as opposed to widows or women who had to get divorced, is celebrated by Hollywood but it's not a good thing for the kids (if a child is abused or killed the villain is most likely to be mom's new man), and it's not a good situation for the women either.
  
  
• Speaking of unsuitable men, I had a disturbing few mintues with one on the elevator of my building. I got on and there was a man from a Muslim country on there. No biggie. Living so close to DC we have people from all over the world and both Catholic Charities and the Episcopalians bring refugees to the area all the time. He looked at me and backed into the corner. He caught his breath and twitched, he sweated and looked away. The man was clearly upset by me.
  
  I'm a librarian and I was on my way to work so you can guess how I was dressed. Heck, I was wearing an ankle length skirt but he could see my face, my hair, my neck and my hands and that had him looking just like Spock in the Amok Time episode. The thought popped into my head, 'This dude must have just got off the plane,' and I just about leapt out when the elevator door opened. A man who reacts to being alone in an elevator with a woman like that isn't ready to be in the modern world. Why the hell does our government allow immigration from countries where the men are like this?
  
  
  
• I wanted to go to the Tridentine Mass at the Immaculate Conception Basilica today but stuff has come up so I won't be able to make it. Grrrrr. But Rocky and I are going on a mini pilgrimage to the St. Rita Shrine in Philadelphia next week.
  
  
  
• My mother and I were talking about all the teachers who have been caught having sex with their students. Mama pointed out that this is not new. It's always gone on but before the 24 hour news cycle nobody outside a few knew about it. She told me about Mr. X, a teacher she had in high school. There was something about Mr. X that made her wonder about him. She couldn't express it but something about him wasn't right. She graduated in 1961. In 1962, her brother called her up on the phone and said, "They finally got Mr. X." Mama's reaction was to ask what he meant. My uncle explained that Mr. X had been caught with a boy from school. He was fired and left town. The principal did not want the white school board to know about it (SC was segregated back then) and the family did not want to be shamed in the community (most people beleived that homosexuality was something that only white men did), so nothing involving legal prosecution was done. Nobody remembers or will tell what happened to the teenaged boys Mr. X was "dating" and nobody knows where Mr. X ended up.
  
  
  
• Why do so many dissident Catholics hang around? If they hate the Church so much you'd think they'd leave and start their own little cult but they don't. They stick to the Church like leeches in a pond transmitting poison as they cling.

Oh hush, Peggy

I never trust anybody who claims to know better than the Church and I never, ever trust anybody who makes money off of being a Church "insider". Oh, heck, I just don't trust Peggy Noonan anymore, period. I wonder if she'll be back as as speaker on EWTN's Family Days this year.

Catholics don't sing and that's okay

On the New Liturgical Movement blog one of the blogging team posted a defense of non singers at Mass. I appreciated it. Finally a church musician who gets it. American Catholics don't sing like the musicians want us to. The artists long for something that sounds like a Baptist or an Anglican church and that aint going to happen. Why? Well, it's simple. Singing and preaching ARE the service for Protestants. That's it. My Baptist relatives have a symbolic communion once a month.

If the music isn't good people leave the congregation. If the preacher doesn't bedazzle, people leave. In a lot of churches people frankly come just for the music. And as, I've pointed out before, at anything other than a mega church the congregation know each other well and live similar lifestyles. The music is ingrained. It's what they heard as babies, it's what they sang together in youth choir. It's what they ask for in the hospital. It's known to the whole family/congregation. At my grandmother's funeral one of her friends stood up and said, "Let's sing Mamie's favorite song." With no hesitation the whole congregation burst forth with the song. It was magnificent.

That could never happen in an American Catholic church. And you know what? That's okay. It really is. In any Catholic church there is something greater than congregational singing: there is Jesus, physically present, not a symbol--- but Jesus just the same as He was when he walked the streets of Jerusalem. He IS the Bread. He IS the Wine.

Happy Birthday Holy Father

Happy Birthday 83rd birthday to the Holy Father. When "The Ratzinger Report", was published years ago I not only thought Cardinal Ratzinger was American but also confused him with Fr. Walter Ciszek. The Holy Father has been on my mind all day. I'm very pissed off at some of the professional Catholics who should be defending him. After reading this I'm wondering what the deal is with John Allen.

St. Joan, brave warrior, plain speaker, savior of France while many a French noble cowered in bed, pray for the Holy Father.

April 15, 1982

My father passed away on this date 27 years ago. It doesn't seem possible that it's been that long. I still don't like April. His headstone says "As God would have it" and slowly, slowy night after night of saying the rosary with ashes in my mouth and gall in my blood, slowly I came to a point where I could bear the pain and shock.

Rest in peace.



"Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God" Aeschylus

Pray for Cardinal Geoge - Fr. Pfleger again

Michelle Malkin, one of my favorite essayists is very upset that Cardinal George is giving Fr. Pleger an award. The last sentence of the essay was the most disturbing to me. It sounds like Michelle is fed up and wavering in her Faith.

But back to Fr. Pfleger and Caridnal George. Yes, that situation is pathetic and maddening. However, the problem didn't start with Cardinal George. It's on his shoe like a plop of goose manure but that pile has been sitting there in full view for a long, long time. The problem started when somebody decided that the parishoners of St. Sabina's were too stupid to handle a regular Novus Ordo Mass and needed a fake African version. That person or those people may have been trying to be nice but didn't do anybody any favors.

Fr. Pfleger says things that you would not expect a man of God say. He hangs with some strange non Catholic characters. He seems to hate white men, which since he is in fact, white himself, seems schizophrenic. Fr. Pfleger should've been corrected more than a decade ago but as he said no-one "had the balls" to do it.



If Cardinal George tells Fr. Pfleger to check himself or be out of his rectory by high noon it would cause a nine day wonder news story. Fr. Pfleger would probably leave the Church and take a chunk of his parishoners with him. There would probably be a nasty legal fight to get custody of the St. Sabina's property. Cardinal George, I assume, does not want that headache so when he can' t avoid Fr. Pfleger, he'll throw him a bone. Being the head of a family or a diocese means that you have to do unfun stuff for the good of the family. The head has to take out the trash, kill snakes, and make sure the household is secure. Pray for Cardinal George, one of these days he, or another cardinal will to have to deal with this situation and it won't be pretty.

a nice story from my childhood parish

Usually I can' t stand reading the Washington Post but there was a piece of good news there that got me excited. 19 kids from my old school, St. Augustine were baptized this Easter. I was about 8 or 9 when I was baptized and I still remember how happy I was. The last time I visited St. Augustine I was so upset at what was going on during Mass that I got up and left so fast that Rocky had to run to catch up with me and but it is my childhood parish and the school was a great fortress and haven for learning and most importantly it's where I learned the Faith so I'll always have a soft spot for the old place.

Rest in peace,

My uncle Clyde passed away. He was a real character. In his youth, he looked a lot like Clark Gable with shiny black hair and great dark eyes. I was seven or eight years old before I realized that Uncle Clyde wasn't white. Some of my father's siblings strongly resembled thier Irish grandfather (Clyde did) and some don't which is why I was so embarrassingly slow in figuring that out. * Had Clyde left South Carolina or even the county I suspect he could've had an easier life but he was a country boy and he loved his family and the land too much to be anything but what he was. I hope he's with my father now and that they are both safe under Our Lady's veil. I hope they can hear the angels sing.



* I can still remember my poor mother's reaction when I anounced I'd just figured out who was black and who was white. Mama was so shocked she had to have a cup of tea.

St. Katherine Drexel

One of my favorie saints is St. Kaherine Drexel. She's a perfect example of what Jesus meant when He said that no man is a prophet in his own town. A friend of mine once told me that one of her grandmother's friends knew St. Katherine and didn't like her. What didn't she like? Well, according to the old biddy the saint was cheap... her shoe laces were often frayed. The old woman insisted that with St.Katherine's money she could've bought new ones every day instead of using them until they broke. St. Katherine built with her own money over 60 schools and churches for black and Indian Catholics. She built a college for black kids and courageously faced down the klan. She was a mighty woman for God and yet, some sour old gossip back at her old town found something catty to say.

Rejoice! Christ is risen!

Good Friday

Rocky and I took Good Friday off. We went to the Paschal Lamb bookstore in Fairfax and then we went to the Franciscan Monastery in DC for the Burial of Christ. It's a beautiful service and you can see the face of the Church there. Faithful from every continent were there. I saw nuns from the Sister Servants of the Lord, the Missionaries of Charity, Dominican Sisters, Franciscan nuns and other orders. Besides the Franciscan brothers, Dominican Brothers from the Dominican House of Studies came to the service and I was very moved to see the devout awestruck face of a Orthodox monk who came to visit. He looked exactly like this painting of St. Francis.

After the statue of Jesus is carried around the church it is placed on the a perfect replica of the Stone of Annointing that is in the Holy Seplechure and the homily is given. After the homily the statue is placed in the tomb, which is also a faithful replica of the one at the Holy Sepluchre. When the service is over the Faithful may kiss the stone and the cross which is laid against the door to the tomb. I can't even begin to tell you how bittersweet it is to kneel on the cool marble floor and lay my head on the stone. For a few seconds I am there in Jerusalem with Mary and St. John and brave Joseph of Aramathea and I adore and mourn. It's too powerful for mortal flesh to put into words.

If you're in DC for Good Friday to this service. You'll never forget it.

All right, I'll say it.

Pope Benedict has done more to recover the dignity and sense of reverence in the liturgy than John Paul, (may he rest in peace, I loved him but let's face it, Papa was not a disciplinarian), did in 2o+ years. That's why he is being persecuted. His enemies fear him as the Roman's feared Peter.

Holy Thursday at. St. Rita's

Rocky and I went to Mass at our parish. Fr. Frodo was the celebrant and I swear he glowed because he was so happy. Fr. Gandalf and Fr. Bear co-celebrated. I know some people think that the Faithful are cheated out of graces with cocelebration but I've always found it touching. All of our altar boys plus the one adult server were there and the boys got their feet washed. The man who trains our altar boys does a tremendous job year after year. They perform their duties admiralbly.

Fr. Frodo gave a homily so good I hope he puts it online. He expounded on the Communion of the saints and reminded us that in the Eucharist, past, present and future come together. Jesus smashes time constraints as He smashes death. After Mass the Blessed Sacrament was carried with great dignity and somberness to the altar of repose. The altar was more beautiful this year than in previous years and that's saying something. Rocky wanted to take a picture of the Repose altar but didn't want to disturb anybody so maybe next year. It made me sad to see so many middle aged people get up and walk past the altar without even a head nod to Christ but I guess that's how they were raised. After praying before the altar we watche the altar boys silently strip the main altar.

We then visited six more churches and prayed befor their alars of repose: St. Thomas More, Queen of Peace, which surpised me. Their altar was beautiful and tender, St. Charles Boromeo (dissapointing), St. John the Beloved, (very lovely and it was good to see the old priest, the young priest and the middle priest all praying there) St. Anne's (hideous) and St. Anthony's which had the largest crowd of adorers. Then we went home and slept.

At Palm Sunday Mass a beaming Fr. Frodo read the part of Christ and two lectors were Peter and the narration of St. Luke. The parishioners were the crowd. Mass was quiet except for a few angry toddlers and a baby who I think will one day be either a singer or a politician becasuse that kid had awesome lung power. I tried to weave my palms into a crown of thorns but just couldn't get it right so I just did a fan.

Vexila Regis

Stabat Mater

Remember four things:
The major media always tries to hurt Catholics during Lent and especially during Holy Week.

When the world approves of the Church and the pope, something is wrong. It means you have weak Protestantized/New Agey crap Church and a weak pope.

The pedophilia scandal is never going to be "over". If you think we can just put it behind us, think again. 20 years from now some poor suffering person is going announce that he was abused by a long dead priest. Long after the fire, the pain still burns.

Stand by the Holy Father. Toughen up. Become a warrior, like Our Lady.

Strange days indeed

"The world holds us to be fools. Let us hold it to be mad."

St. Francis De Sales.

The words of St. Francis are ringing in my ears today cause it seems like America has gone a little further down the road to mad. A lot of pundits say that the American people don't know what's in the new healthcare law and would be horrified. I'm not so sure. I don't think a lot of people care. Most of the people I've listened to this week were estatic. Now granted, I do live in Northern Virginia and work in DC so most of the folks here already owe their living to the government and are quite happy about it. They think they are going to have "free" healthcare and that's all that matters. If you remind them that the English have free health and slovenly nurses, foreign doctors including some female Muslims who refuse to wash their hands because someone might see their naked forearms and become overwhelmed with longing, dirty sheets, dirty floors and docs who legally decide that you are too old, too young or too sick to be treated... they shrugg their shoulders and say that those things won't happen here.

Sr. Carol sold out and got a pen. Bart Stupak apparently suckered a whole lot of people and got three airports and media exposure. A large chunk of the American people think they got free medical and as long as somebody else is paying for their abortions let the road go on forever and the party never end. Strange days indeed.

Pray for us, Holy Mother

My favorite St. Joseph painting

This is unsual but it's the best image of St. Joseph I've ever seen. He is shown as a working man, not a pink and white creation of sentimental women and Jesus looks like a boy, not a sickly little girl. The artist is John Collier. Most modern Chrisian art is dreck and isn't even pretty enough to be called kitsch but this guy is really, really good.

St. Ambrose and St. Michael

Rocky and I have a hobby of visiting parishes in our diocese. We stopped by St. Ambrose in Annandale, Virginia. It's a round church and I couldn't figure out where the front was. The priest sits on one side of the circle and the Blessed Sacrament is on the other side. The altar is in the middle. It's a beautifully decorated church with a painting of St. Ambrose stopping the emperor from entering church and a powerful statue of the saint that hints at what a vital man he must have been. I wish we had an Ambrosian bishop today. We prayed the rosary, admired the stained glass and left for the next church on our trip, St. Michael.

St. Michael was built in the early 60s and looks it. The building just seems worn out and tired. It's round and doesn't look like a church at all until you step inside. Once you cross the threshold it becomes a familiar sight. They have library and bookstore and an Adoration chapel. There were several adorers present kneeling or sitting with Jesus. The carpet was disturbingly dirty but I decided to focus on what was happening in that little room.

A greater miracle than the parting of the Red Sea was taking place. Right there in that little room with the dingy carpet Jesus had deemed to be physically present for our sakes. The Word who came down from heaven and was crucified, died and who rose again was right there. The One who gave His life to cure me of my wicked inclinations was right there. We were all as close to Christ as His disciples were on any given day walking from village to village. Adoration is a powerful thing and a profound gift of love from God.

Thank you, Sisters

Mother Mary Quentin points out that the nuns who signed the letter in favore of Obamcare are not speaking for her or any of her sisters.

When nuns go bad.

Thanks for nothing, ladies. May your orders dry up and die out. May you never get another dime in donations. I do not know you. Should we meet at Mass, unlikely as that is, I will simply not see you.

St. Mary's of Hagerstown and the Sacred Made Real

This weekend Rocky took me for a weekend getaway to Hagerstown, Maryland. It's very close to the Pennsylvania state line and and Antitem battlefield. For Mass we went to St. Mary's. It's not the prettiest church but the minute we walked in I knew it was a good one. There was long line at the confessional and most of the people in it were young. They have rosaries in the pews for people who want to pray. The church was packed and communion was recieved kneeling at the communion rail. We met nice people and it looks like they take the worship of God seriously.

On Sunday we went to DC and saw the Sacred Made Real exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. It's a collection of the most magnificent Spanish religious sculpture and painting I've ever seen. It was very hard not to take out my rosary and pray. The above painting is the Immaculate Conception by Diego Valasquez and we got to study it up close. The photograph does not do it justice.

My king

My King left his blood on the dusty streets of Jerusalem. He carried a cross instead of a scepter. He wore a crown of pain and thorns instead of gold and diamonds. My King......My King.

Fascinating women bloggers

Hilary Margaret White at Orwell's Picnic. She's certainly not mealey mouthed and I don't think she'd like me but the hard nosed, old fashioned English way she puts things is interesting. I'm either horrified or amused when I visit her blog.



Elena at Tea at Triannon. What lovely, gentle blog. She reminds me of a Northern Melanie Wilkes.



The Anchoress. She gets on my nerves at times but Mrs. Scalia can really write and it's worth it to read her every day.



Cheeky Pink Girl. Honest, tough, never boring.

I love you

Ecce Homo

I have given my body to the strikers.... Isaiah 50, verse 6

Sculpture by Gregorio Fernandez.

The Dead Christ by Gregorio Fernandez

This statue is currently at the National Gallery of Art in DC. I'm going to go see it as soon as I can.

the girl at the gas station

Years ago Rocky and I were on a road trip and stopped somewhere for gas. While Rocky was busy with the car I glanced at the map and outside. I saw two women talking to a man. He looked like a trucker. They came to some kind of agreement and the smiling man walked towards the back of the station with the younger woman who could've been anywhere between 15 and her early 20s. I got out and went in the gas station to get snacks and use the restroom because when Rocky stops the car you'd better go while you can. When Rocky and I met back at the car and got ready to go I noticed that the man and the younger woman were back. He was still smiling. She wasn't. He spoke again with the older woman and handed her something. About 20 miles down the road I realized what the heck I'd seen.

"I think I saw a lot lizzard at that gas station."
Rocky asked me why I thought that. I described the scene. "Yeah, that was a lot lizzard," he agreed. A lot lizzard, if you don't know is a prostitute who works the gas stations and truck stops. It's a pitiful, dangerous way to live and that young woman didn't look anything like Julia Roberts or Dolly Parton.

Today, I read about Transport for Christ, an Evangelical group has been going out to the truck stops since 1951, to bring the gospel and suddenly remembered the girl at the gas station. I hope she made it out of there.

St. Mary Magdalene, pray for us.

Rocky and I decided to take a drive in the country and went down Route 5 through Southern Maryland. We visited St. John Regis. The parish has been which has been around since 1640. The current building went up in 1898.

It's one of the prettiest little Southern Maryland churches I've ever seen. They haven't wreckovated and the Blesed Sacrament is right in front. They have two very handsome Marian shrines in the cemetary. Afterwards we drove to Leonardtown and ate at a superb French restaurant, After that we drove to Piney Point to see the lighthouse and park and then to St. George Island to watched birds.

St. George is a beautiful little spot and I've never had the experience of being on land but below the water before.

Something to ponder

St. Faustina once had a vision in which the Lord told her she was due one day in Purgatory. She was horrified and ashamed and offered to go immediately. The Lord asked her if she'd rather live a longer life and spread His message of mercy and accept whatever earthly suffering came for the sake of souls. She accepted.

It dawned on me after reading this section of her diary that if a pious little Polish farm girl who was worthy of visions still was going to Purgatory for one day then I, and the rest of us of are in a whole lot of trouble.

Big fish in a wee pond

Whenever the Catholic blogs wars get too nasty I remember that the big boys of Cathblogdom are big fish in a teeny tiny primordial dwarfish world. The average American Catholic has never heard of Amy Wellborn, Fr. Z.,the SSPX, the FSSP, Medjugorje, Mark Shea, Fr. Longnecker, or unless they are going through the misery of mariage prep, Christopher West. None of us is as important as we think we are.

where do these people come from?

After Sunday vigil Mass I watched a little boy crawl on the floor. Later he amused himself by running laps around the church. The look on some of the faces of the adults who watched him would've curdled milk. His mother said not a word to him and appeared to be completely at peace with his behavior. She reminded me of a young father who once asked with apparent sincerity, how the people who couldn't stand his noisy kids at Mass would stand being in Purgatory. Where do these people come from?

What's going on at most Catholic Colleges?

According to a new study girls at Catholic colleges are more promiscuous than girls at secular schools. This is shameful.

22 years ago

22 years ago on March 1, Rocky and I got married. It' been a heck of a ride. I couldn't have asked for more.

What is we just said, "Hush up and deal with it?"

There are some people who are objecting to the new and long overdue translation of the Mass in English. I don't get what their malfunction is. The changes are minor. If visible and invisible as opposed to seen and unseen unhinges you then YOU have a problem not the church. Besides, the Novus Ordo has changed over the years anyway. Tinkering and a myriad of options are built into the system so to speak. The people who were delighted when the Tridentine Mass was wrongly taken away had no problem with change then, so what's the problem now?

Some parishes, including the one I went to as a child, have "praise dancers." Most do not. On weekdays you can have a homily or not. At all times you can have the sign of peace or not. I confess that I'm always happy when the grip and grin sign is skipped. You can have the Confietor or not. You can have a beautiful, reverent Mass like the one on EWTN or my parish or you can have something so wild that band has to bring extra amplifiers and the ushers have to bring blankets and pillows for the ladies (have you noticed that's it's usually women who go in for this crap?), who get "slain in the spirit". The theologians say that both are valid. The NO is like a buffet and the menu can change.

When I was a child people shouted out their petitions for the prayers of the faithful. Now that's done by lectors or altar servers. When I was a child nobody held hands during the Our Father, now depending on your parish, people do. When I was a child we did not have altar girls. Now we do and woe to the person, including the poor priest, who objects to the altar girl's flirting with the boys that are left, flipping their hair or giggling all through Mass.

When I was a child it was expected that the priest would give his homily and get on with Mass. Now, it's not unheard of and apparently okay when priests use props to help with the homily. I read about a priest who brings a puppet with him and he's a big hit with his parishioners. I once knew a priest who cursed from the ambo to get our attention. His homiles were dramatic and fascinating and his occasional use of "damn" and "damnit" was considered hip and if the cardinal had a problem with it, he never said anything publicly.

There is a priest in Brazil whose Masses are like rock concerts and he packs 'em in every Sunday. This priest was praised by John. L. Allen and some folks hope his style of Masses are the future of the Church. I hope not. No matter what the liturgy committee folks at your parish say, the Novus Ordo was designed to move with the local zeitgeist. It does not stand pristine and untouched by the vagaries of fashion and it was never meant to. The people who are getting all pissy about the new improved translation need to grow up. It is not 1972 anymore. Thank God.

What got into St. Thomas More?

Rocky and I were running late and couldn't make it to our parish so we went to the Cathedral of St. Thomas More. Mass was ...nice. Fr. Rippy has really done a fine job.

Rosary Beads USA

I was looking for a new rosary and came across this lady's remarkably beautiful work on the always interesting Man With a Black Hat blog. Mary, the rosary maker is quite talented and I placed an order. I can't wait until it comes in the mail.

Padre Pio used to say, "Bring me my weapon! Bring me my rosary!" In these increasingly fantastical, reality rejecting times

we need to use the weapon against darkness that our Lady gave us. And if you can find one that is gorgeous and well made, all the better.

Carbon fast for Lent?

A priest in England wrote that Catholics need to get out of our churches and evangelize. I thought, yes, Father, but most of us barely know our faith and certainly can't articulate it to anyone else. Instead of sound teaching on saving our souls we get pap like this from our bishops. We asked for bread and got a stone.

Must Jesus bear the cross alone?

The painting is by William Adolph Bourgerou, one of my favorite painters. It's called Compassion but I always think of the old hymn when I see it.

Return from Calvary by Herbert Schmaltz

A couple years ago, Rocky and I were on vacation in Pennsylvania and we stayed at a bed and breakfast that had this huge oil painting on the living room wall. I fell in love with it and took note of the name and painter. One of these days I'm buying a copy.
It shows an exhausted Mary, Sts. John, and Mary Magdalene and the other holy women at dusk after the crucifixion. They have buried Christ and must stop all labor because of the sabbath but nothing can stop their grief. The painter hints at their hopes with the use of light and darkness. Darkness is covering the land but it lifts where Mary stands and just over the three crosses in the background.

Camelot is dead

Patrick Kennedy is not going to run for re-election in Rhode Island. The guys at Creative Minority Report are celebrating.

Mama, what's a neocath?

I've seen the term tossed around but it's kind of like one of those inside baseball things. We are all supposed to know so the person using the term never explains what it is.

King of Kings -- the temptation, the betrayal and Last Supper

Cecil B. DeMille does something odd here. He puts the Temptation, not in the dessert but in the Temple and his version of Palm Sunday is different from the Gospel account. Then he gets to the Last Supper which is beautifully shot. Judas, having betrayed Jesus can't bring himself to eat and drink with the rest of the disciples.

Thank you, St. Jude for prayes answered

There is a couple who wanted to adopt their foster child. Certain folks in the foster system wanted to send the child back to the natural mother, who is apparently "getting her life together". The case dragged on for years but the judge ruled in the foster parent's favor.

Whenever people say "I don't know why So-in-So did a foreign adoption. There are plenty of kids available in foster care," I just sigh. Just because a child is in foster care doesn't mean they are free for adoption. There is a parent or a relative out there who for whatever reason won't let go and the kid can languish from foster home to foster home to group home until they turn 18. And then there's the other thing. Not all foster parents are nice people. Some treat the kids like crap. Adopting an older child from foster care means that you run the risk of unknowingly taking on a child who is severely damgaged. Not everyone has the strength or financial resources to handle that.

When the guy in accounting or the woman from your church choir does a foreign infant adoption give them a break before trotting out the old,"plenty of kids right here," line.

RIP Captain Phil

Captain Phil of the Cornelia Marie died. If you watch Deadliest Catch you know that he was one heck of a character.

No more football---

My Colts lost, and now I have no more football. What shall I do? Oh wait! There's the draft and the NFL combine to look forward to.

Well, here's your problem, Father.

I'm late to the party on this story and talking about our blizzard would be a lot more fun but a sad story is taking place in my diocese. An ex nun, married to an ex priest spoke to the local rag newspaper on women's ordination : she's for it. Her priest asked her to resign from her position as music director. The parish is in upheaval. A number of parishioners seem to love the ex-nun more than Jesus.

I've only been to St. Leo's once and I can't remember if I liked it or not but I am continually horrified at how much power and influence church musicians have. At another local parish several families actually left after the leader of the folk choir got into it with the priest. One elderly couple had been going there for decades but left for the sake of kumbayah music.

Fr. Whitestone has a problem but I suspect that it started when the music director got her job. An ex-nun married to an ex priest--- that sounds like a whole lot of trouble right there.

Mass at St. Anthony's.

Rocky works on Saturday and Sunday so we usually go to the Saturday vigil Mass. Well it snowed so much that we couldn't make it and had to go to the 5:30 Mass at St. Anthony's. When we arrived Rocky noticed that Bishop Loverde's assistant was there.

As it turned out our wee bishop was the main celebrant. Fr. Grinell, the pastor was very subdued which was quite nice and dear Fr. Nicholas, who is Haitian gave the homily.

The choir was dreadful. Over amped music, a cantor wailing into the mike, a guitarist who is NOT the second coming of Jimi Hendrix and tuneless tunes. One thing I found interesting was that nobody was singing alogn with the choir or the psalms. Old, young, black, white, Asian, Indian, Philipino, African... nobody was singing. We all just silently endured the noise.

I was very annoyed by the jolly old man who stood at the ambo before Mass to tell us what the readings were and what they meant (essentially he gave us a mini homily.) He then instructed us to all stand and greet our neighbors. After that business was done the clergy processed in. Despite having a bishop and four priests we still had a small army of eucharistic ministers. Were they really, really needed?

After Mass the rush to get out was like a cattle stampede. People only slowed down to greet the bishop and Fr. Nicholas and getting out of the church parking lot was like Death Race 2000.