While on a long stretch of drive today I listened to a British TV presentation of a few years ago. The program was called The Kings and Queens of England. It covers, one at a time, every king and queen of England from the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066 to Elizabeth II. It’s four and a half hours long and I only got to the Stuarts. And as though I didn’t already know this, all I can say is:
“What a bunch of freaks!”
Adultery seemed to be the order of the day. Also murder, usurpation, faggotry galore, theft, very bad theology, and bad teeth.
In other words, it played out just like the Roman Curia of today.
The presenter who is also the writer of the show’s script got a few things wrong. But all in all it was an interesting listen. I’ll include the embed below for the interested (insomniac) viewer. One thing I found most fascinating is that England hasn’t had a native sovereign since Harold Godwinson in 1066.
I have been reading with fascination the back and forth between the Arlington, TX Carmel and Bishop Michael Olson of the Fort Worth Diocese.
All I can say is, let’s put this to the “smell test” for initial treatment.
This smells like shit.
On the surface, something is seriously wrong here. The bishop comes across looking like a vindictive, petulant child. The sisters come across looking like absolute victims. These are impressions.
I say this with little more evidence than what my senses are perceiving.
That’s not entirely true.
I worked for the bishop for a short time. For seven months I was a vice principal at an elementary school in his diocese. I met him exactly three times. I found him cold and aloof. My initial impression was that I had just been introduced to a drunk who is “functioning”. Keep in mind I am an anonymous blogger talking about a public figure. So, again, these are my impressions. I could be entirely off-base. I admit that. Then again, I have a lifetime of experience dealing with drunks. What I can add to this is that I just didn’t care for the man. And that is my impression. Something rubbed me the wrong way.
One thing I do know for sure is this. The Church in these United States has a long history of intertwining with civil and corporate law. Dioceses are incorporated under the laws of the civil jurisdictions in which they are located.
And I know this too… The great State of Texas doesn’t take kindly to anyone seizing the personal property of another as is alleged in this case. If I’ve been reading this correctly, the sisters claim that the bishop took the cell phone and other electronic devices of the Mother.
I am not sure on what grounds he took these things if he did take these things. Which no one has yet disputed.
The images the diocese released of the stash of drugs in the monastery are laughable. It appears to be a setup, at least to me. But, as my dad would say, “What do I know?”
It also seems odd to me that Bergoglio seems to be engaged in a pattern of seizing monastic property from traditional orders.
Im other words, the Vatican can deputize a bishop to act with complete authority. But Texas might have another thing to say about the matter.
Whoever told Canada to blow on us should be strung up. And no, this is not the three days’ darkness but it sure is weird.
My wife texted me that a friend on Long Island had told her the health department made the following announcement. “Spending five minutes outside in this smoke is the equivalent of smoking six cigarettes.”
“You should get up to Masapequa while the prices are this low,” she said to me.
Ha. Ha.
This morning I went to Mass at the parish in Harrisburg, PA. On my drive I could literally smell fire in the air in the cabin of my car. When I stepped out in front of the church I encountered a man in a mask taking pictures with a high end camera pointed down the block. I stepped around the back of my vehicle to see what his subject was. It was the state Capitol building two blocks away. Only it was completely obscured.
This is certainly weird, folks. In all my years on this earth I have never seen anything like it. Whether it’s from a naturally occurring wildfire way north of us or not, I cannot say.
I ask the Blessed Mother every day to obtain for me the grace of attending daily Latin Mass every day.
I am currently on the road for an extended period of time. So far, she has not let me down.
She never does.
So tonight when I walked into the FSSP parish in Harrisburg, PA, with a sense of true joy that once again I was going into the altar of God, I noticed something a little different.
The church was set for a solemn requiem Mass for a priest of the FSSP who had died a month ago. His name was Fr. Terrance Gordon. Please pray for his soul.
But the catafalque draped in black, surrounded by the six candles, the black vestments of the young priest, the choir chanting Dies Irae and In Paradisum…
This is the Church reminding us. This is the Church praying for her dead. In every Mass Father prays at the offertory, “for my own countless sins, offenses, and negligences, and for all here present; as well as all faithful Christians living or dead that it mag avail for my own and their salvation unto life eternal.”
I couldn’t help but think of my own soul. And then I thought of a few others who also need to be reminded that this is not our home, that we will be judged and possibly when we least expect it.
Stay confessed. Go to Mass. Pray your rosary.
Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord and may perpetual light shine upon him.
I love being a father. It is, perhaps, the greatest joy of my life. I had a tremendous father myself so I know the hard work and the great reward associated with this vocation.
I remember the day my son was born. Side note: those of us who were not blessed with a massive number of offspring know well the predicament of being traditional Catholics and always feeling inferior. I would have taken a hundred kids. God knows that. But good luck shaking off the supposed glances of the other families at the high Mass. but I digress…
My son is truly a blessing and every single day he shows me that he is learning how to follow my example. And I truly hope it is a good example that I’ve set. I go to bed at night asking God to watch over him (and his sister and their mother) and I wake up asking God for the grace to protect them and to teach them. Young Benedict (the name means blessed) shows me that he is getting it. At 15, he is already a young man. He may have to be reminded to shave every now and then but he never falters where it counts.
“Time for confession, son,” I’ll say. “OK, Dad,” comes the reply, without a hint of reservation. “Sung Mass for Corpus Christi, son?” I ask. “Let me just find a pair of long pants,” he says. “Did you hear the one about the new restaurant on the surface of the moon?” I query. “Food is great but there’s no atmosphere,” comes the reply.
He may resemble his mother but this is clearly my boy.
There are, to be sure, areas of interest that separate us. One such area is his love of all things theme park related. My son loves the engineering behind roller coasters. Even here there is much to unite us. I’m not an amusement park guy. However, I love engineering. And for as much as he could tell you about the height, speed, and track composition of any given coaster in the world, he’s terrified to ride them. There’s the link. The old man in me won’t go near a coaster.
And thus the evil in the world tears its ugly head.
On Saturday I came across an article about how one of the biggest amusement park chains in the country is hosting an “All Ages Drag Festival” at every one of their parks this month. It’s Six Flags, by the way. I showed it to my wife. We bought him a season pass to this place, owing to how close one of the parks is to our house. He takes such delight in going out there and just taking it all in.
Typical coaster (not from the park in question)
“Do we tell him now or wait until we get back from our trip?” I asked her.
“Give it a few days,” she said.
Today we broke the news to him. He took it hard. He knew exactly what it meant. He has grown up watching us eschew Target for their bathroom policy, then Walmart and Kroger for their paying-for-abortion policy, and now this.
He tried to find a way.
“We’ve already paid for the pass,” he said. “Couldn’t we just use it up and then stop going?”
We may yet do that (after June of course).
But the thing that struck me was how he took it like a man.
He knows this is war. He knows what this means and how dangerous the situation has become.
In the end, I know he will hate that he can’t go anymore but I also know that he understands why he can’t and that a principled stand is worth more than gold.
Did I do a good job here? Hardly. God gave me a little man and I loved him so much I helped him become a bigger man.
June has busted out all over! However, whereas in the past we only had to contend with a few gay things, this year the demonic is out in full force. Here’s the timeline in case you weren’t playing along.
1950’s: Ethel Merman. They tell me she wasn’t actually a drag queen but the jury is still out.
1960’s: Stonewall. “Police brutality, man!” No, you’re disgusting and you’re being disgusting in public. Stop it.
1970’s: ‘Nuff said.
1980’s: The Golden Girls introduced us to four old hag-whores and spent seven seasons trying to normalize all manner of deviousness.
1990’s: Disney owned subsidiary Miramax releases the movie Priest, a blasphemous film if ever there was one. Concerned Catholics decided to protest the Mouse and are shot down by naysayers who nay-said, “You can’t avoid everything now can you?”
So we’ve gone from the gay 50’s to this. A supposedly Catholic priest – one with the blessing of the Vatican no less – spouting such outright blasphemy as this.
Surely the end must be near. I’m remembering something about there coming a time when men with itching ears will heap to themselves all manner of false teaching…
Let me spell it out for Fr. on the off chance that he didn’t really know what he was saying.
The Sacred Heart of Jesus bleeds with love for the repentant sinner. The sodomite bleeds with love for himself. The only connection between the two is that the sodomite commits sins that cry unto the Sacred Heart of Our Lord for vengeance.
I called this last year, folks. So here we have a situation where literally thousands of Masses were completely invalid because…?
I’ll tell you why. Obviously it results from invalid matter. For every sacrament to be valid there must be proper form (the words), proper matter (the physical thing), and proper intention. The Church can supply jurisdiction when necessary but not proper form or matter and certainly not a missing intention. Here’s the thing though. Why did these priests think they could use an invalid wine?
Because they were malformed.
That simple. In their seminary days they were taught that they could fiddle with the Mass, with confession, with baptism. I know. I was there. In the past few years, we’ve heard of priests who had never actually been baptized. We’ve all been to confession with a priest who didn’t quite say the right words of absolution. And now we can question every blessed Mass we attend.
Well, others can question. I attend a TLM for a reason. You can’t mess around with that.
It might not be a bad idea, though, if you’re going to attend a Novus Ordo, to grab the priest ahead of time and ask a few questions.
“Father, are you using real bread, real wine, and what is your intention?” If he says he’s not sure on the first two then walk away. On the last count, if he says, “I’m going to preside over a community meal,” RUN away.
Malachi Martin alluded to this in Windswept House when he has Cessi Gladstone address the Slavic Pope over the issue of the “countless invalid Masses” taking place all over the world.
So hang on to your hats. Steel yourselves. Hunker down.
Or just come over to the dark side and join me for an ancient Mass.
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 