The Marriage at the End of the World

Today, Mrs. Harvey and I attended a wedding. We left our home last evening and flew (during the busiest travel period of the year and with inflation-jacked airfares) into Northern Virginia to celebrate as the daughter of good friends got married. Given the above details, you can tell we really like these people.

The only thing that was a little unusual about this wedding was that the groom is not Catholic and so there was no Mass. as I am a daily Mass-attendee, this meant that we would have to go somewhere else. So after landing and getting to our place and into bed by about 1:30 AM, we were back up at 5:30 to head off to a TLM in a gymnasium a half-hour away. But enough about the Arlington Diocese…

Today was the final day of the liturgical year. This, coupled with the wedding I was going to, made me think of the end of times. No, it’s not because I think of marriage as a death sentence – far from it. It is a great institution given to us by Christ and I love every minute of mine. It is because, as Fulton Sheen points out, Calvary is the wedding ceremony par excellence. At Calvary, Our Lord poured Himself out in the perfect act of love, from which, as Paul reminds us, all marriage takes its form. And Calvary must make us think of the Second Coming of Christ. How can one stand beneath His cross and not imagine His Precious Blood dripping down on us, saving us, and then remember that His cross is the throne of our judgment.

The Holy Family, stained glass, Holy Family Cathedral, Tulsa, OK

But what really got me thinking of the end times is this. I witnessed the Novus Ordo rite of marriage and began to think of how Satan and his minions have caused a mass apostasy in the true Church and how that is being manifest in the Synodal Gay Way. In particular, I thought of the number of bishops worldwide promoting a “gay marriage blessing”, AKA: sodo-pseudo-marriage.

Why on earth are they wasting their time and energy trying to craft and implement such a thing. They’ve already had it for fifty years and they’ve been testing it out on straight folks the whole time. I listened as the traditional vows were obliterated. No mention of obedience. Hell, they didn’t even mention cherishing at this one, just love and honor. No real mention of procreation. Remember, being open to children is the primary purpose of marriage (but what does that mean to “couples” who cannot reproduce because, you know, two wangs don’t make a right). No Ephesians 5. Instead we got “Love is patient…”. Good words, to be sure, but they refer to supernatural Charity and not romantic infatuation.

Marriage is serious stuff, folks. The Novie rite of marriage is anything but and it’s the rite I got married in so I get it.

Marriage joins a man and a woman for their sanctification. Husbands and wives need to live out their marriages with the eye on heaven for the other, helping each other grow in holiness. For what purpose? To get to Heaven!

Wives be submissive to your husbands. Husbands love your wives as Christ loves the Church. Get married. Make lots of babies. Get to Heaven. It’s not that complicated. What more can I say?

Virgin Most Prudent, pray for us!

PS: Hi Pep!

An Update on the Trump Dilema

A guest at my Thanksgiving dinner last evening did what we all love to do and brought up politics at Thanksgiving dinner. It was no issue, really, as we get along, so to speak. His question to me was this. “You wrote a lice recently stating that you would update us the next day as to your thoughts on Trump’s re-election bid. Where is that piece?”

Well, it’s not here.

The truth is that I have much consideration to make still. So this time I will make the same promise, absent the word “tomorrow”.

There.

St. Thomas More, pray for us!

Thanksgiving Traditions of the Trad Dad

First, A Feast

Today we celebrate the feast of the great Spanish mystical theologian, John of the Cross who, along with St. Teresa of Avila, reformed the Carmelite Order.

Last Advent a friend and I decided to tackle St. John’s masterpiece Dark Night of the Soul. No easy task, that. I can tell you that it was one of the most challenging reads I’ve ever undertaken. I will have to return to it one day to find some greater comprehension.

Monastery of the Infant Jesus of Prague and of St. Joseph, Discalced Carmelites of Dallas, Dallas, TX

John’s feast was moved to December 14 in the Nu calendar for no apparent reason but that’s OK because we’re all the same Church, right? Either way, as they say, “On Carmel’s heights, day and night, someone is always praying for you.” Thank God for that! Stepping off of soapbox now.

Second, Another Feast

This morning I continued the great tradition handed on by my dad. When I was 14 years-old, my father, who never cooked a day all year but insisted on assuming the responsibilities of Thanksgiving dinner in toto for his family of 16, woke me up at an ungodly hour. I think it was before 5AM. I am the youngest son in my family. Eight older brothers and he picked me for the task. Not sure if it was because he trusted me over them, if it’s because I faithfully accompanied him to early Mass every morning, or because I was the last one… “Its time to stuff a few birds,” he said. I stumbled out of bed, grabbed a cup of coffee and learned from the man how to feed an army on the native bird. I still remember cracking a joke that he didn’t find too amusing. “I’ve conducted a postmortem,” I said. “Looks like he died of blunt force trauma,” I remarked of the 25 lb turkey as I pulled it’s neck out of its thoracic cavity. “Poor bastard never stood a chance.” But dad took this day very seriously. He furrowed his brow and then said, “Hand me that can of beer. I have to batter the stuffing.”

The following year I was eager to help Dad again. I went to bed excited to rise early and spend time preparing dinner with the patriarch. Except it didn’t go down like that. He was no fool. It turns out he had only been training me – not for some distant future when I’d have my own family to feed but for the next year when he would finally get to sleep in. “Son, it’s time for you to stuff the birds…” And I’ve been doing it ever since.

And I still love this day. It reminds me of him. It reminds me of the importance of family, of being grateful to God for my Catholic faith, my many blessings, and of course, my wife and children, and all the friends we get to feed this year.

An additional note: one of the things Dad and I would do on this day would be to start the traditional Christmas music playlist. We’d have the classics going all morning in the kitchen while the parade played on a TV in the next room.

This morning I kept that one up too. When my kids asked me, “Where’s Mariah Carey?” I had but one response.

“One, kiddos, she’s a twit and also, no.” As I explained further, “Since my liturgical ‘preferences’ lie in 1954, my Christmas music may as well, too.” And then I played the following for them.

By the way, I totally want to host a party like the one above – gold Century 21 realtor’s jacket and all.

Happy Thanksgiving!

St. John of the Cross, pray for us!

Cleaning the Baseboards

It’s the night before Thanksgiving. If my life is at all similar to yours, then you probably spent this evening giving the public rooms of your home a deep cleaning in anticipation of the loads of company you will entertain tomorrow.

If your life is at all like mine, you may have said a prayer hoping that the dog, who already has the bizarre habit of licking the baseboards from time to time, would get in there and do his job again so you don’t have to get down and scrub them. Hey, it’s not like anyone ever noticed anyway…

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

He Bestoweth Me a Title

Last week, I wrote about my how teenage son purchased himself a single square foot of land in my ancestral homeland of Scotland for the express purpose of gaining the title “Lord” (or more properly, Laird) so that I would have to address him as such.

It was a fun and funny moment that reminds me of the great joy God has bestowed on me in making me head of a family. I get to see myself in another and he makes me laugh.

This evening, the mailman showed up in the midst of a bunch of work my son and I were doing outside. First, we are blessed to have an old-school mailman – one who knows us and chats with us every day as he makes his rounds. This man, about my age, was clearly raised to live by the same societal norms as I was – a strong work ethic, a friendly demeanor, and the recognition that all we do can be sanctifying if we do it for God. So the mailman showed up and handed me a box that was addressed to my son. I promptly handed it off to him.

Side note: the project we were working on… three years ago my wife bought me the plans to make a Nativity out of plywood. I made one and thought it was “neat”, never being much of a handyman or carpenter before. This city boy learned how to use a jigsaw to make intricate scrolling cuts. In the end it looked beautiful, humble, homemade, and festive. What I did not anticipate was that every year since my wife would pimp me out to make more and more of these thing. I have so far crafted about thirty of them, including the most recent twelve. She sells them on a local Catholic newsgroup. Hey, it is fun even if it is demanding work ripping through multiple sheets of plywood all day.

Back to the story… Son quickly took the box inside and promptly re-emerged to ask if I wanted to open one of my birthday presents early. It’s next week, by the way and I will be “old”. I begged off for a moment. I like to open gifts on the day and not before. But he insisted. So I tore the paper off of the gift.

Call me Lord.

Don’t you know, the my lad gave me the very same gift I laughed about last week. He bought me a square foot of Scotland. So I am now “Laird/Lord Harvey”. I do believe this is the first instance in recorded heraldry of a son bequeathing his title to his father.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

St. Andrew, pray for us!

Howie’s Doing What Now?

Are we really expected to believe that Howard Hubbard at the age of 84 is trying to leave the priesthood to marry… a WOMAN?

😂😂😂

Last Sunday After Pentecost: Fr. Dave Nix Nails It

I don’t often do this but I’m going simply to link to a post from another blogger and let you do the math.

Fr. Dave Nix hit the nail on the head with this post. Let me stand out of the way and you can read for yourself. I do not know Fr. Nix personally or I would have reached out for additionally commentary; but God bless him in his work.

The Abomination of Desolation