Let’s Start with Rita
My new friend Andrew from St. Luke’s Gallery (do check out his site and his amazing work) reached out to me this evening with the following picture.
I am blessed to have been able to spread devotion in any small way to this saint of the impossible. She means so much to me and, as I can see, to many of you as well. Know that I am in a perpetual novena for all of you. Please, in your charity, pray for me.
Of Teeth and Matches
My lighter flamed out tonight. It was a Bic. No big deal. They last a few months and then, well, they die. No Last Rites, no Apostolic Pardon. They just eat dirt. I went searching in my emergency stash – my top dresser drawer – and found, among my meticulously folded underwear and a treasure trove of sentimental things I will never part with, the following.
Imagine my surprise when I slid the box open to find not matches to light my Marlboro with but two tiny teeth in a little bag. It seems I know the Tooth Fairy pretty well these past 14 years and he seems to have left my childrens’ chompers there as a gift to remind me of some of the happiest times of my life. I needed to see that (especially now when my kids are practically old enough to vote and my reason for existence is questionable at best).
Upon This Priest Rock
There is a priest visiting my parish from Ireland. He said the noon Mass today. Pray for the priests. I was intrigued after Mass so I went home and Google-stalked him. Turns out our young Father gained some notoriety during the Coof-o-Rama by celebrating the Sacrifice on ancient rock formations along the coast of the Emerald Isle. if you know, then you know. Apparently not long after that he decided that the ancient Mass was what he needed to be immersed in. What a blessing to us in Traddyland! That did not , however, stop some of his detractors online from ranting about his being drawn into tradition. I found the following online and I share it for one reason that you will see presently:
If only it was an issue of vernacular language, you ankle-grabbing twit. Continuing…
“Primarily one of pastoral service”? You are retarded.
The priesthood is a sacrament whereby a man (you know, a full grown biological human with a Y chromosome, testosterone, facial hair, and male gonads who happens to not have any degenerate sexual predilections) is configured to Christ the High Priest in order to carry on the Sacrifice of Calvary. Pastoral service? Did you pull that line out of a Marty Haugen ditty or was it revealed to you in a fever dream?
Yes, pray for our priests who are under assault not only from the devil himself but also from his minions in the form of spongiform-brained hippie-dips with a slightly-better-than-DSL connection to the internets.
St. Patrick, pray for us!
*The original version of this post incorrectly labeled the St. Rita statue as being found in Ss. Peter and Paul. It has since been corrected.