Your humble blogger decided to kick back at the end of this long week with a new favorite pastime of mine. Friends, I spent this Friday night at the rodeo. To my Jersey friends, don’t laugh. It’s a hoot. Grab a cocktail and watch idiots try to hold onto a raging beast for 8 seconds. To my Texas friends, also don’t laugh. I wore my Stetson so I fit in.
And then it hit me. The rodeo tart came a-whoopin’ and a-hollerin’ onto the arena floor carrying Old Glory clenched tightly in her fist as Lee Greenwood’s Proud to Be an American strained loudly over the loudspeaker.
What struck me though was the sense that this American empire collapsed long ago. I may be the only guy in that arena tonight who knew it; but this rodeo was lacking a little in the soul department. The cowboys and cowgirls in attendance tonight dutifully rose to their feet for the national anthem of a nation that went out with a whimper many decades ago.
We promote, mandate, and export death to the world. It’s sad. It’s all over except for the cleanup on aisle four.
But hey, we still have bread and rodeos (even if the drinks were wildly overpriced). Have a great weekend everyone!
Git along!
Immaculate Virgin Mary, patroness of our land, pray for us!
Oh and I understand Gary Voris indirectly called me “Catholic QAnon”. Folks, when they tell you that you can’t ask questions, you know things are upside down. I met Gary once. Used to be a fan. Then again, he used to do good work.
I have been praying a lot lately using the book Deliverance Prayers for the Laity by Fr. Chad Ripperger. If you do not have a copy of this book, I highly recommend getting one – especially if you are a man with a wife and children. If you are unsure how to use it, there is a video posted by Sensus Fidelium wherein Steve Cunningham interviews Fr. Ripperger on this exact topic.
One of the themes that comes across very plainly to me is a theme that ought to be obvious and yet, thanks to the general collapse in the Church and in Western culture since the mid-20th century is simply not clear. That theme is this. Our Lord, the author of life, has endowed us men with the gift of common sense. In fact, in several of the deliverance prayers the specific request is made of Our Lord that He pour out his Precious Blood to “strengthen our common sense power”. My own take on this overlooking of common sense is that such an emphasis has been placed on the great good that is human reason, that the focus has fallen on our cogitative power in a way that completely ignores the common sense of each human being.
And what is this common sense exactly? In my own words, it is the grasping of truth through what the senses and our experience and reason can plainly know. In other words, it is the idea that what is right in front of one’s eyes might in fact be the reality of a given situation. So for instance, when the media report to us that the cost of eggs has either not risen that much or has only risen because of an avian flu that struck last year; the average man or woman (especially those who purchase eggs for their family regularly) are inclined to say, “That doesn’t sound right to me… I think I would have remembered hearing about a chicken cull due to illness.” When they tell you, “Elections are safe and never subject to corruption and Brandon is supreme overlord,” most of us would say, “Hmm… Nope.”
On that second point in particular I want to point out that it isn’t just a gut feeling. I grew up in New Jersey. I saw electoral corruption firsthand. I saw in the voter rolls on election day that several of my dead siblings were still eligible to vote. Couple that with the fact that we all know from firsthand experience that machines connected to the internet are absolutely subject to being manipulated. It doesn’t take a conspiracy theorist to know that things are not right.
But part of the problem (or maybe a symptom of?) the general loss of common sense – which itself is symptomatic of sin – is the lack of intellectual curiosity. People simply do not want to ask questions anymore. And I’m not just talking about deep, probing questions that only a well-versed expert in a certain field would think to ask. I was a reality TV producer. Believe me, the things people never ask about the content of what they watch on the idiot box is striking to me. I saw how the sausage is made. Most folks simply eat the sausage and are happy. We ought to be asking the how’s and why’s of this thing in front of us.
All of this got me to thinking about some questions that should be asked and it also reminded me of the late George Neumayr. First, do we accept his death as being caused by Malaria? I don’t know about you, but I do not accept this without any definitive proof which so far has not been provided. So many questions here… And I hope we get answers.
But think about George himself for a minute. The handful of times I interacted with him, I knew he was a man with incredible common sense. I feel that way about Ann Barnhardt as well. She has said, “I just ask the questions and say the things everyone else is thinking.” Yes, but sadly not everyone is thinking these things – their minds have been so dulled by the hammer of mortal sin and a degenerate society.
Drink a glass of wine…
When George heard about Cardinal Tobin and the whole “Baby” situation, what did he do? Well, ultimately he went to Baltimore to the Bishop’s conference meeting, found Tobin in the lobby of the hotel, and straight up asked him the question. Is this man (Baby) living with you or not? My goodness, to everyone’s surprise, Tobin answered in the affirmative! He had a sense of what was what and he investigated.
This has lead me to ponder some other questions. These are questions I imagine George might have asked. Who knows, he may have been following up on these questions as recently as a few weeks ago while traveling through the Ivory Coast. They pertain to McCarrick and they are things I have wondered and for which I have never gotten satisfactory answers. In no particular order:
Was McCarrick actually laicized? George hinted in a December tweet that he was not sure of this fact. Where are the documents? They may exist but I cannot simply trust what has been put forth by most of the men running the show these days.
Why is McCarrick still living in Church property? It seems that Teddy is currently somewhere in Missouri or nearby environs residing with a religious order or in a Church run half-way house of sorts. But, you ask, he’s a “private citizen” at this point. So does the Church extend these kinds of living arrangements to other lay folk? Can I simply live out my final years in a monastery at no charge? What gives? If he’s not in the clerical state, why is he still treated as a cleric? There may be a perfectly acceptable answer to this but I’d love hear it before passing judgment.
What happened to McCarrick’s fortune? The Vatican accepted the testimony of James Grein to “laicize” McCarrick. Why not accept all of what Grein has to say, including the fact that McCarrick was conjuring demons through an exorcist and was a personal inheritor to a few mega-wealthy friends like Conrad Hilton? Where’s the cash?
Why are men known to have been favorites of McCarrick (“nephews”) still being selected for high ecclesial posts? See McElroy.
And for good measure let me add a few that I am personally aware of that have never passed the smell test.
Turks and Caicos. It’s a small British protectorate in the Caribbean. In the late 1990’s McCarrick, on behalf of the Archdiocese of Newark, assumed juridical control of the Catholic Church there. It is known to be a tax shelter. It is also known to be a place where at least one Newark priest was sent who may have had some “issues” and who may have avoided prosecution by being out of the States. Was McCarrick hiding money here? It may be nothing but it deserves a look.
What’s the Ivory Coast connection? I am so dumbfounded as to why George was there. But again, something just doesn’t seem right in light of what we have known about him.
Well, friends, will we ever find answers? George isn’t around to ask the questions anymore. God rest his soul. Who will pick up this mantle? And even if another gumshoe like him emerges (and I hope many do), should we ourselves stop asking the questions at least in our minds? No, friends, no.
It’s called common sense. We all have it. Strengthen yourself in prayers, Mass, and the sacraments. Then use it.
St. Timothy who’s feast is today, pray for us!
*St. Timothy was known to have a weak stomach and appeared to suffer from nervousness. St. Paul gave him encouragement. We also should pray for courage. Timothy died the glorious death of a martyr. We may not be far from his path.
This evening I had the great pleasure and privilege of entertaining three priests for dinner. When I mentioned to one of them that I had been married to my wife at the Shrine of St. Rita, he replied, “Oh beautiful! She is my patron saint!”
I figured that’s her way of reminding me to take on more intentions for my ongoing novena. I also happened upon a beautiful image of her on my phone earlier. Further nudging?
Can’t remember where I snapped this one.
As always, send me any intones (even if only “special intentions”) and you are guaranteed prayers until you tell me you either got what you were seeking or I die. The patron of the impossible is only too happy to intercede for you. I am only too happy to be her humble assistant.
Here is another novena to St. Joseph sent in from longtime reader Anne in PA. Anne has been with me almost from the beginning and I have truly enjoyed her emails and comments over the years. she sends along what is, perhaps, one of the most widely known of the St. Joseph novena prayers. In fact, when I saw this in my inbox, I couldn’t believe I had forgotten it. May it bring you closer to St. Joseph, and by extension, closer still to the Infant Jesus asleep in his arms.
Oh St. Joseph whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the Throne of God, I place in you all my interests and desires.
Oh St. Joseph do assist me by your powerful intercession and obtain for me from your Divine Son all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, Our Lord; so that having engaged here below your Heavenly power I may offer my Thanksgiving and Homage to the Loving of Fathers.
Oh St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms. I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press Him in my name and kiss His fine head for me, and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath.
St. Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for us [add your intention here]. Amen.
Several people have asked me to share the novena prayers in honor of St. Joseph that were shared with me. I appreciate all the help I received. When I asked for decent prayers to pray, decent prayers were sent to me in abundance. I will share these one or two at a time over the next few days.
I am told this one is from the “way-pre-V2 prayer book Blessed Be God“.
The prayers on the left side are for St. Joseph.
Pius IX liked it enough to give it a 300 day indulgence. That’s nothing to sneeze at. Make this a novena and you’re looking at 2700 days!
Yesterday, I alluded to something alcohol related coming today. And here it is. Seven years ago today my oldest brother went to his particular judgment at the age of 52. He had been afflicted with “the curse of the Irish” from an early age. Along with my third-oldest brother (also since deceased) the two of them drank their fair share – and yours and mine as well. He had lived apart from the rest of our family for many years. Still in the same general area of the state, he later said that he did not want to bother the rest of us with his problem. A dissolute life carried on for many years. There was the child out of wedlock with the drug addict woman (already married to another man). That “union” lead to my parents raising three additional children – their biological grandson and his two half-sisters from two additional men. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
In the fall of 2015, however, an odd set of circumstances saw him arrive at the door of one of our sisters looking for a temporary place to live. He had, for the most part, cleaned up his act although the ravages of years of that kind of hard living could plainly be seen. My sister obliged him and took him in. Within weeks she asked him if she could bring him to the hospital where she worked as a nurse since he had been complaining of gastroenterological symptoms. It was then that he was found to have stage IV pancreatic cancer, likely from years of alcohol abuse. The surgeon described it thus: “It’s as if someone mixed cancer with concrete and then poured it into his abdominal cavity.”
From October until January he would spend his time in and out the hospital trying to manage the terrible pain. My wife, kids, and I traveled up for Christmas to see him. There wasn’t much I could do. We had never been particularly close but this was my brother. I could pray and I could sit with him.
Throughout those last days my brother revealed himself to be the most gracious of patients. He was truly grateful for every scintilla of care and affection shown to him – and much was shown to him.
One night right after Christmas, I was summoned to help take him back into the ER. Well after midnight, his room was not yet ready. “You can go,” he said to me. “And leave you?” I asked. I’m mom would have murdered me if I left a sick man alone, let alone my brother. And it was joy. And he made laugh. He awoke to find me watching a re-run of the sitcom Friends. “This is pretty funny,” he said. “How many years was it on?” Clearly he wasn’t watching much TV in the 90’s. “Ten season, I think,” I replied.
“Man, I hope it make it to the end…” was his dry response. We both had a good laugh.
When the day came, he was in the home of another sister surrounded by my parents. He had received last rites and the Apostolic Pardon hours earlier. My mother called me to break the news. I was about to teach a class.
“I want to tell you that your brother died a few moments ago,” she said. Knowing that she had born him, raised him, suffered because of him, and suffered with him in the end, I asked her, “How are you doing?”
“I only ever wanted my children to go to heaven.” That is all she said. God heard her prayer and gave her hope. Her son came home, had suffering given to him, died with the sacraments with his family. I couldn’t ask for a better death myself.
Please pray for the repose of his soul.
Below I am republishing a story I wrote after the viewing a few days later. It captures my thoughts from that time. As you can see on the picture of the card below, my parents wrote that they “know you are at peace with Our Lord and Savior.” I believe that sentiment comes from the true hope of two parents who witnessed their son receive the Apostolic Pardon; but regardless, pray for his soul and the souls of all the faithful departed.
****************************Originally published January 27, 2016
Much of this day was spent in final preparation. I drove past the church where his funeral would be held the next day and pondered why. Not “why” as in “why did he die?” but “why this church?”
Even though he was fairly light at the end, a solid oak casket is still heavy.
Look at those steps!
True there are going to be at least 8 pall bearers including me but still…
Anyway, by afternoon I had hit the florist and ordered an arrangement for the funeral home. Then I picked out shoes with my daughter who hadn’t brought a decent pair for the wake. How inconsiderate of her… Mommy instructed me “no heels”. My daughter instructed me “Daddy, I want heels!” We compromised. She got wedges. Until this afternoon I could not have told you what that meant.
And how does one follow that…
At the funeral home we celebrated my brother’s life. There was sadness, yes, especially in the first few moments as my mom and dad approached the casket. They have now lost four of their children. This hurts just watching them but they’re so solid in their faith. What was gratifying was seeing the number of friends who came out in this weather — people I hadn’t seen in years. My childhood best friend and his wife came and sat with us for two hours. They delighted my mom with great conversation and helped me too with their presence.
Tonight I am at a bar. I took my nephew out to celebrate his birthday. We’re at an Indian casino. I haven’t gambled a penny. I’ve had a gin and tonic.
At the last minute, a friend jumped in on our plans. Not usually a problem but this friend has a problem. Actually; this friend has two problems. Drinking and gambling. This is actually a setup for tomorrows post so bear with me. Otherwise it will make more sense then.
I’ve dealt with alcoholics. It seems one gift God bestowed on me is a sense of compassion. I hate to see others suffer and believe me, being a drunk is clearly a form of suffering – very often for more than just the drunk.
And this is not a post about alcohol. Not tonight. Again, tomorrow will make more sense.
But this got me thinking of sin. You see, I’ve come to realize that this friend is an inveterate drunk. He shows no sign of wanting to turn it around. Doesn’t go to meetings. Thinks everything is fine. This is probably because he’s charmed so many people into giving him second chances. And third. And fourth.
I’m contemplating leaving him here, an hour from home, to figure it out on his own. But two things prevent me. 1) I’m actually not that cruel. 2) I might be crossing into hypocrite territory. You see, I believe I’ve been inveterate in my own sins throughout my life. I am certain that I have, on more than one occasion, walked out of confession positive I was golden only to give in to the same sins with such fascinating weakness. By the grace of God; I have been learning and fighting, and resigning myself to God’s grace more ardently now than I ever have. There’s always a ways to tarry. I attribute much of that strengthening to tradition. In the past few years I have come to hear – finally and clearly – what the Church has always taught about sin and forgiveness and the role of the sinner in a thing called a truly firm purpose of amendment.
And I thank God. And I will help my friend (keeping in mind that the best help sometimes does involve letting a man hit rock bottom before he can reach out for the help).
So tonight, think about what “inveterates” you. Turned it into a verb, sorry. I believe the /a/ needs to be long now. Either way, whatever your sins, make the purpose firm to change your life. Sometimes, as a wise priest once proclaimed in a sermon I heard, “How many times do any of us really call upon the Sacred Name of Jesus in our moments of temptation? Because He promised always to help those who call upon Him…”
Stay confessed my friends, and say a prayer for my buddy.
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.