Not long ago, my 85 year-old mother posted the following on Facebook:
“Who wants to get Grandma something from McDonalds?”
Apparently she confused Facebook with UberEats. And yet, like the matriarch she is, she got her point across because one of my nieces replied with the following:
“I got you, G-Money…”
My point in sharing this is because Harvey needs some help. If you are reading this and live in Northern Virginia (specifically the Arlington Diocese) and you know the Mass schedules for TLM in this place, would you be so kind as to drop me an email? I’m traveling the next week or two and want to attend the Roman Mass.
Update: I already have the mass schedule at Renaissance, I’m curious as to the others. Thank you!
Front Door, Cathedral of St. Andrew, Little Rock, AR
First lines usually set the tone and this one was no joke.
“Reach out to the marginalized, ordain women, engage the youth.”
I don’t like to waste time – mine or yours. Let’s cut through the bullshit. I’ll re-write it for you.
“We haven’t been inside a Catholic church, let alone practiced a scintilla of the faith since water was poured on our heads in infancy. Why isn’t the Church, like, more with the times, yo?”
In other words, the synod-goers want a Catholic Church that ISN’T Catholic. That wasn’t so hard, was it?
Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Newark, NJ
They want women’s orders, lay-run everything, abortion, contraception, sex, sex, sex, free stuff, more sex only as bizarre as possible this time, and general faggotry busting out all over. Thank you, no. These things are not Catholic. And I won’t apologize for saying it, nor for my tone in saying it. To quote Ann Barnhardt, “I want my Church back, you sonofabitch!”
Let’s see. They want to think of themselves as Catholic but not actually be Catholic. I think we call that the Protestant heresy.
Did someone say antichurch?
It sounded like someone said antichurch?
God in heaven, have mercy on us!
*The original version of this post misquoted Miss B. as “Give me back my Church, you sonofabitch,” instead of the correct version: “I want my Church back, you sonofabitch.” Apologies to Miss B.
Growing up in the shadow of New York City and owing to my own mom’s native Manhattanite status, I was immersed in the lore and legends of what was once the greatest city on earth. As a kid I remember the celebrations for the centennial of the Brooklyn Bridge. I learned how Roebling’s brick and steel masterpiece connected the “Island at the Center of the World” with the city of Brooklyn and not long after how the Charter of Greater New York solidified five counties into one city. Peter Minuit and his Dutch pals would never have dreamed what they wrought by forking over $24 worth of beads to the Lenape Indians. Greatest real estate transaction in history, folks.
But eventually everything that grows to such gargantuan proportions becomes unwieldy and begins to show signs of neglect and decay. In the case of the Big Apple, as in that other great world capital of commerce Rome, the decay was at first of a moral nature. Men grew rich and comfortable. And that kind of comfort breeds contempt for doing difficult things.
Late of a March evening in 1964, the young barmaid Kitty Genovese was walking home to her apartment in Queens when she was savagely attacked, raped, and stabbed to death. This was one of those “lores” of New York that everyone learned about from their parents or grandparents. It took on urban legend status but it was very real. What made Kitty’s story the epic cautionary tale it became was not so much her death itself but that it could have been stopped in its tracks. You see, Kitty’s screams were heard by neighbors – apparently by many neighbors. To a man, they did nothing. “Just another girl screaming for help,” they reasoned. “No need to get up and do anything about it.”
Comfort.
It was easier to not get involved than to rush to the aid of fellow human in her agony.
I see parallels between the Genovese slaying and the situation in the Church today. I have heard them called “Trad Inc.”. They are the men who live comfortable lives opining about matters theological. All the while, the Bride of Christ is being savagely attacked. They hear her screams. They peak through their blinds and see a madman bludgeoning her.
And still they say nothing.
“He’s a heretic for sure, but he’s still the pope,” is a line I referenced recently. That’s the attitude they have. It is easier to accept that the attacker is the Vicar of Truth Himself than to throw open the window and yell, “Stop!” let alone to run into the street to fight him off.
Church of St. Agnes, New York City
It is easier to say, “What he says on his own is his own thought and not part of official magisterium,” until he says it is. And then we can find a new way to ignore the attack. The Jesuit attacks the Blessed Mother, he attacks our own mothers (rabbits). He attacks marriage (adultery and Communion). He attacks the Church Herself (God wills a plurality of religions). He attacks all his predecessors (death penalty inadmissible). He attacks Calvary (no more TLM for you!).
And still they say nothing
He wields his little dagger like a thug, a punk slashing and laughing as he does so. He gets a thrill knowing that you won’t stop him. Hell, you won’t even turn on the light to drive him away. You won’t even call him out by name.
The Church is bleeding in the street. Will you say anything? Or will you go back to your commentators and their legions of fans who find it easier to remain in intellectual comfort than to fight for her?
If you’re reading this and you are not Catholic, don’t let the struggle turn you away. She is the One, True Church founded by Our Lord Jesus Christ. And He wants you now more than ever. He wants you to be a man and fight. if you are Catholic, ask yourself what good the comfort will bring you? Aren’t we all called to make of our lives a Calvary?
As a homeschool dad, I always try to find sources of amusement in my daily activities. Actually I do that anyway. Always have. It’s how I taught in the brick and mortar schools. It’s how I interact with my children. Life presents plenty of opportunities to laugh if you just let it.
I don’t have to search hard either. Having taken four years of Latin and having attended a Latin Mass for four years now (though years apart), I figured I could take a stab at this if the gladius was sharp enough.
Then I came across the following picture in a textbook. It’s from the Oxford Latin Course textbook series.
A mysterious chap known simply as “The Friend” is seen greeting (saluting) the young Quintus. Quintus looks none too pleased. In fact, Quintus looks like he knows what The Friend is there for and it isn’t to discuss baseball stats. I can hear Quintus meekly pleading with The Friend. “Please, The Friend, it isn’t right…”
Also, this illustration looks shockingly similar to the infamous photo of McCarrick and James Grein. Don’t believe me?
Pederast pedagogy. Latin killed the Romans and now it’s killing me.
But at least Quintus doesn’t have the same issues as the cook.
Not only is his name Grumio but he’s anxious because Claudia (the lady of the house who allows her son to go off with The Friend) is coming into the kitchen to second guess his work with that bird. Look, if Grumio cooks you a peacock (clearly what he’s cooked), you eat the damn peacock and be grateful.
A few days ago I posted about the Queen of Heaven’s birthday. This happened to coincide with the day the Queen of England died. I made a reference to Her Majesty’s very long reign and that she presided over a general decline in Western Culture. I did not say that she was the cause of that decline, just mentioned the link. The next day I noticed a comment that simply said that I was a “tosser”. I had to look it up. Apparently that’s slang for the already slang word “wanker” – one who gratifies himself, if you follow. Oh those Brits! So clever. And here I thought it was related to a baseball pitcher.
The sad fact is, like John-Henry Westin points out, Elizabeth II, may she truly Rest In Peace (and do pray for her soul), indeed gave her Royal assent to some terrible things during her 70 years on the throne. Go ahead and square that circle. I’ll wait. So to the gentleman who hurled that invective, it’s quite alright. I understand the grieving process takes time to work itself through. It’s not your fault you’re a biscuit short of a packet. But to attack a man for pointing out the obvious is just bollocks. Why don’t you go listen to some Gilbert O’Sullivan and tend to your cats?
Bring It On! Or Not…
I was chatting with a friend this evening over dinner when I remarked that I just can’t wait for the material chastisement to come about! I’m joking of course. Still, there comes a point at which one has to wonder how much longer this cesspool of a world can go. Then my friend told me of her recent experience raising chickens. And I realized that if I survived the material chastisement I would probably have to slaughter a chicken at some point for food. The living will envy the dead, folks. The living will envy the dead.
Arlington Diocese Underground
I was sent some pictures of the new locations where, starting this week, the TLM will be celebrated in Northern Virginia. I did not take these pictures myself so I will not post them here. I will have my own pictures to post soon enough. Nonetheless, the work that has gone into transforming these spaces – a gymnasium, a parish school building, etc. – is quite impressive and still far surpasses most Novus Ordo church designs. The thought struck me that for going “underground” and being pushed to the margins by the “pope* of mercy” these places aren’t all that bad. Remember to hold onto your devotion and keep the true faith alive. This will pass.
Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, stained glass, St. Francis DeSales Oratory (ICKSP), St. Louis, MO
Remembrance of Things Past
I was supposed to be at the World Trade Center on 9/11. Providence intervened and I overslept. On that morning, one of my sisters worried that her five day-old baby should be baptized. We literally did not know if the world was coming to an end. The smoke from the Towers was still rising just 7 miles away. I drove her down to the church. It took great effort convincing the pastor that this was a good idea. “Father,” I said, “If you don’t want to do this because you don’t really think anything bad is going to happen, couldn’t you at least do it to comfort this young mother?” Somehow, speaking the language of modernist false mercy and psychobable did the trick. Sometimes, I suppose, we have to speak on their terms in order to achieve our goals. A truly Catholic priest would have assessed the situation and, seeing a regular parishioner whose faith was known to him asking for baptism for her child, replied, “ Of course! This way to the font.” Imagine if Phillip had told the Ethiopian eunuch, “Sorry, pal, but there’s no rush. RCIA doesn’t start until October.”
I went to bed for the next three months with images of the planes slamming into the buildings. God rest the souls of all those who died that day.
I had to share the following that my wife sent me today. She’s still on the social things whereas I am not.
Know that I am offering my novena daily for the intentions that have been sent to me.
Remember, until very recently, it was considered impossible that anyone would publicly recognize the antipapacy and yet the chorus of voices is raising. Keep praying. And don’t forget to fast too.
Holy Mary, Model of Life for Saint Rita, pray for us!
Folks, I got off all that social media nonsense a while ago. Sorry but I'm not on Twitbook, Facepalm, YouHu, WingWang or any of the others. Maybe an event will happen to make me change my mind like Peter and Paul coming down with flaming swords and commanding it be so. Until then, read the blog and if you feel a comment is in order or you feel like sharing a tip or suggestion for a topic, email me at harvey@harveymillican.com.
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 