Last year I posted about a flag of the Sacred Heart that I had ordered from a woman in Maine. I reached out to her recently. Unfortunately she is currently out of stock. However, the good folks at TradFlags appear to have plenty. Click the link and shop away!
I have stopped flying “Old Glory” altogether. This is for two reasons. Although I love my country, it is no longer what it once was. Heck, even the White House denigrated it last week by using it to flank the sodo-flag. Also, I want the Sacred Heart of Our Lord to fly high above all else. Side note: last year I proudly told one of my sisters about my flag. She replied, “So what, we can just put any design we want on a piece of cloth and run it up a pole and it’s a flag now?” “Yes,” I replied. “That kind of is the definition of a flag.”
So, buy those flags and fly them with pride. Show your neighbors and friends Who truly rules over your life and land.
Frank Walker linked to a CM article earlier in which Niles demands that the producers of Mass of the Ages essentially edit out Fr. Jackson’s footage from the documentary.
She includes the following tweet (captured in a screen grab from my phone so you don’t have to give them any traffic):
To Miss Audrey I would ask the following:
How does Christine feel working with a sodomite every day?
Fr. Jackson is guilty and should be hanged. There really is no doubt about that. But what she suggests is guilt by association. The documentarians, if I understand her correctly, are no better than him unless they gut their film of all references to him?
Is what he (Jackson) said in the film true? Should truth be expunged? How about the legitimate good work Gary did once upon a time? Should every Vortex be censored because he was a rump ranger and his sins cried out to heaven for vengeance? Or does this simply have to do with a loathing of tradition and a possible desire to deflect from other things?
I feel like this blog post will resemble the back cover of one of those Highlights magazines from the pediatrician’s office when I was a kid. If you know, you know.
First a clip I am sure many of you have seen… In fact the older among us probably lived through this. I came of age in the 1980’s and early 1990’s but believe me, we had one SSJ nun in particular at our parish who delighted in crap like this. So without further ado, the late Sr. Janet Mead:
Why did I just share that? Well, I believe laughter is a great medicine for the soul. And what’s not to laugh about with this? Apart from the cankle tapping at 1:49, there’s the outstretched arms supposedly of Our Lord in some kind of “Resurrecifix” that resembles an alligator at 1:38 (you cannot ever see it differently now and you’re welcome). And I didn’t even mention the groovy, infectious (like an ivermectin-resistant fungus) melody!
Why do we need laughter?
Have you seen the state of the Church lately? I leaned as a young boy when my twin sister died that Our Lord offers us a share in His suffering. But I also learned that He affords us moments of sheer uproarious laughter to help us through the darkness of this vale of tears from time to time. Make use of both. this is the laughter of the “it’s so bad it’s hysterical” variety. It’s also a good laugh at the train wreck that is the post-V2 Church.
Final note: I am currently with my sister and her family in New Jersey. My 30 year-old nephew saw this clip as I was “researching” for this post. His only comment:
“Who let this happen?”
Indeed. but I needn’t worry about him. Like all the others in the younger set, he’s discovered tradition and will never go back.
On a more serious note, why not offer an Ave for Sr. Janet… She died in the past year. It is never a bad idea to pray for the dead.
June 13: Feast of St. Anthony of Padua, Confessor and Doctor
I doubt I could say much about the life of this, one of the most popular saints of all time. Yes, let’s get the obvious out of the way. He helps you find lost things. I almost hate mentioning this fact but boy is it true. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve called on him to find my lost keys and then later on to help find the perfect parking space. And he always delivers.
But there are two events in the life of this holy man that strike me as more beautiful than the rest of his adventures. And remember, the saints are indeed the heroes we should introduce our children to. They did indeed live adventurous lives.
Anthony was born Fernando in Lisbon in 1195. At the same time the young man was studying to be an Augustinian priest, Francisco was founding the Friars Minor – an order unlike any up to that time which, together with the other newly formed mendicant society, the Dominicans, would help reform the Church. Eventually, disgruntled with the Augustinians, Fernando would join the Franciscans as the first priest of the order. Francis was leery of clerics for good reason. Nonetheless, Fernando, now called Antonio after the great hermit saint of Egypt, would leave his mark on the order and the world.
The first instance of his life that moves me greatly is the thing that prompted him to join the Franciscans. The bodies of the first five Franciscan martyrs were brought back from Morocco and carried with great solemnity through the streets of Coimbra. Fernando was moved by their witness to the faith borne out in their love unto death of Christ Jesus.
High Altar, St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church (ICKSP), West Orange, NJ
There is a story that he pleaded, “I would gladly trade my habit for yours if I could go to Morocco to die as they did!”
The Church’s calendar used to be littered with feasts of the martyrs, in particular the martyrs of Ancient Rome. The traditional Roman calendar retains these feasts and most days I find myself amazed to read a blurb or two about them in my missal. Here we have men, women, and children – rich and poor, prince and pauper – who willingly died painful deaths for love of Christ. One has to wonder why so many were stripped out of the new calendar… Imagine if their inspiring witness were still widespread.
The second instance is the flip side of the coin of Fernando’s desire to die a martyr. Our Lord had other plans for him. He set off for Morocco and was shipwrecked. He never made it. Instead, he found himself in Italy where he took up the life of a preacher, hammering the heretics and championing the faith.
It all reminds me of the novelette The Song at the Scaffold by von le Fort. Two Carmelite nuns – one brave and one timid – each have different natural desires. The brave wants to die on the scaffold of French terror and anti-Catholic hatred. The timid wants to be left alone, afraid of her own shadow. However, in the end the roles are reversed. The bold nun, under obedience remains behind to redound the convent while the frightened Sr. Blanche loudly sings the Veni Creator Spiritus until her vocal cords are severed at the guillotine.
Funny how that works, isn’t it? I wonder if the desire to die for Christ isn’t simply the first step (and greatest mental act) of sacrificing one’s will to God.
Regardless, may your feast of St. Anthony be blest and may you find all your lost things. If you come across my mind, drop me a line. I haven’t seen it since my kids were born.
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 