My northeastern “retreat” continues as I swing through a few states visiting family and Latin Masses.
Today and tomorrow are special days for me as Holy Mother commemorates one of the greats – St. Lawrence the Deacon – in both his vigil and his feast.
You no doubt know the story of his martyrdom. How in the year 258, the Roman emperor called Lawrence forth and demanded that he turn over the “treasures of the Church”. Lawrence spent the next 24 hours distributing the precious items (chalices, patens, etc.) to the poor for safekeeping. When he appeared again before the emperor empty-handed, the now irate ruler ordered him to be slow roasted to death. Lawrence, in the midst of his death agony, quipped, “You may turn me over now. I’m done on this side.”
This is simply one of the greatest lines ever uttered by any man. Ever.
This line has survived 17 centuries and served as an inspiring backbone of the spirit of the Catholic faith. If the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church, the words of the dying martyrs have been like a fertilizer. And this one line is almost unmatched.
Lawrence was so overjoyed to go to God that he jabbed one last zinger in the eye of his executioners.
High altar, St. Lawrence Church (Mater Dei Latin Mass Community, FSSP), Harrisburg, PA
It was said by Augustine that at the death of Lawrence all of Rome became Christian. So powerful was his witness because it was the gift of one man’s body to the Lord Who had given His own body. It was the heart of a man already ascending to union with the Heart of his Beloved. And it was the joy of that man, mindful of the glorious crown being bestowed on him, bursting forth on his lips that we remember today.
This got me thinking. I am sure we are all going to meet a similar fate.
Take it in stride and be joyful. You were chosen for this time. Will the words He places on your lips inspire others? Perhaps. If you let Him lead you where He wants to. It might be the gridiron. Will you laugh?
Keep your wits about you. It’s only going to get rougher.
Friends, I recently began another novena to “my” saint – St. Rita of Cascia, saint of the impossible. I began these nine days of prayer for several close intentions of mine but also because of a new friend who told me that he had started this novena after reading about St. Rita on my blog.
Let me tell you, with God all things are possible. His beloved servant Rita is held aloft by the Church as a patroness of the things we think impossible. I attest that she will intercede and she will deliver. Of my several intentions, one was already delivered today. And these are no small petitions.
Our Lady of Good Counsel and St. Rita
So I invite you, whether your prayer is to be able to continue going to the TLM daily in these dark times or it is to conceive a child when even doctors have told you that you cannot or to reconcile a wayward spouse; I know that Our Lord wants you to make your impossible intentions known to Him. He already knows the secrets of your heart before your heart was formed. But He asks you to give these things to Him to demonstrate your faith in and love for Him.
From the “news” source NJ.com we get the following. Full link here.
“The head of New Jersey’s largest Catholic diocese was recently impersonated on social media by someone who opened an account in his name, Archdiocese of Newark officials said.”
So, Brother Joe simply cannot escape the ghettoes of the internet even if he allegedly isn’t trying. Don’t feel bad, Joe. I lost a term paper I was five pages into once. Never hit “Save” and the whole thing went down the drain, lost in the third level of clipboard hell for all time. I know. I sympathize.
Wait, what’s that? This was a case of someone spoofing you on social media?
Oh forget that then…
Dude, you are a spoof of a Roman Catholic prelate. How do you top that?
Sympathy level just dropped. Sorry. I was cleaning my dresser off this morning and the large mason jar I keep with loose change and a few spare F’s got dumped. So it seems, you know, I’m all out of F’s to give, as the kids say.
The account in question? I received this from a nephew – a real nephew, not an Uncle Ted type – in May.
The thing is Blanche*, I’d be more inclined to care if you hadn’t previously tweeted your love and affection for an Italian pillow-biter or your sister or something. Side note: I’ve said many times before. I have 8 sisters and I’ve never said anything so retarded to them in my life as “Nighty night, baby.”
Oh and by the way, this spoof account has been active for some time. Several siblings of mine received invite notifications to it a few months ago so how’s that Archdiocesan Social Media Director working out for you?
Pray for these men.
Our Lady of Quito, pray for us!
*I am reminded by a reliable source that Blanche was McCarrick’s Golden Girls name. The above should read “The thing is Dorothy…“
Perhaps during your prayer, please remember to offer an Ave for me. And whatever you do, don’t forget to entrust to The Two Hearts the care of all His holy priests. We need them. We need them in good health, strong, stouthearted, and striving for perfection every day. The devil loves when he can snatch one and take him out of commission. Don’t let that happen for lack of a few moments of prayer.
While scanning through my extensive photo collection this afternoon I stumbled upon something interesting. It is a picture I snapped 2 years ago and I think I took the shot because the dark cloud looked particularly vicious. Turns out I was right and a few minutes later a massive storm was unleashed. The picture is both portentous and symbolic. Here it is.
Note the abundance of parking.
You may ask what this is. A parking lot with a pile of dirt and the corner of a red brick building? Indeed it is; but it is more.
What you see, friends, is the parking lot of a Montesorri School in Northern Vitginia with a dark storm cloud looming large in the immediate vicinity.
And if you know, then you know. If you don’t know, you will soon, especially if you’re a parishioner of Holy Trinity in Gainesville. I’m sure it will be awesome, though.
Jorge’s recent trip to Canada is truly the gift that keeps on giving. Quick aside: do you remember how the announcement of Bergoglio’s supposed election to the papacy was made? They dragged up the Cardinal Proto-deacon, Jean-Louis Tauran, from his crypt beneath the Vatican grottoes to make the traditional “Habamus Papam” declaration from the balcony of St. Peter’s. Even at the time I remember thinking, “Is this guy asking a question or making a statement?” As in, “We have a pope?” Yes, Eminence, we do. His name is Benedict. But now nine years later we have the squatter visiting the hinterlands of North America and demon-worshiping something called the Grandmother of the West. I’m not making this up. I think he should have invoked the Step-sister of the East instead. I hear she’s more willing to appease her summoners. She couldn’t get as many dates in high school because her cousin, Baphomet, turned all the other demons into raging fags. Poor thing. She reminds me of Kim Campbell*.
I Play One on TV
I had intended to write about the legal concept known as “corporation sole”. In brief, think of this as “the Crown” but better. Every diocese in the United States, or so I’m told by a drunk lawyer, is incorporated under this method. What it means is that the entirety of that diocese IS the bishop. In other words, the parish properties, the miters, the little knob-like thing that turns on the sprinklers at the episcopal residence and doesn’t have a name? All belong to the bishop as CEO of the corporation. I was going to write about this because said sauced counsel called to advise that any bishop in this country who wanted to keep the Latin Mass alive and well in his diocese could simply do it. When he gets threatened with removal from office, he can tell the Vatican, “Try to remove me. I own the property. I own the diocese. I OWN EVERYTHING!” Then the whole thing goes to US District Court where an American jurist operating under the kind of law that actually means something in the real world might simply say, “Hey, corporate law is pretty clear.” But this friend was really, really sotted when we spoke so maybe that’s not a thing.
What is a thing is that I had my yearly jury duty this morning! I usually tell them, per George Carlin’s old chestnut, “I’d make an excellent juror because I can spot guilty people just like that!” This time there was no need. It was a justice of the peace court. There were 22 potential jurors called in and they only needed 6 for the case. Mathematically my odds were slim to begin with. The case in question centered around an eviction. When I answered that I had once been a landlord (renting a house I owned to a friend), I was dismissed with extreme prejudice and malice aforethought. Also, habeas corpus or something. I’ve seen Law & Order. I know how it goes.
The Wedding at Cana, stained glass, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Harrisburg, PA where there is NO Latin Mass (but literally a block away in an also-beautiful church there is.
Speaking of evictions, I happened to read the very good blog linked on Canon212 this morning called Curmudgeon’s Cave. Whoever you are, brother, keep writing. Me like. His point in writing was to expose some of the less seemly things going on in the background of the Cupich/ICKSP situation. First we learn that Cupich apparently kept the insurance money when the church burned and in recompense, gave the property to the Institute. We also learn that there were stipulations in the quit-claim deed that prevent the Institute from carrying out any religious services deemed inappropriate by the Archbishop of Chicago. So that’s why the Institute conceded on this one. They’re legally – as in civil law, not canon – not allowed to offer the TLM in their own property. Ain’t that a kicker?
Is There Any Testicular Fortitude Left in the World?
And again I ask, where are the men? You know, if some demon-worshiping fruitcake (or some fruitcake worshiping demon) told me that I had to do this or that or forbade me from doing that which he has no authority to forbid (for a whole lotta’ reasons), I’d probably laugh in his face. Yes, think about that. Let’s go with the former descriptor above. Imagine a literal fruitcake. They make the majority of the world’s fruitcakes here in Texas. But just imagine an anthropomorphic fruitcake trying to tell you that you are forbidden from offering the Latin Mass. Fathers, how do you respond to that? Remember, and I cannot stress this enough, it’s a freakin’ fruitcake. The only difference here is that the actual fruitcake might just have as much actual authority as the man who went north and worshiped an actual demon. And happens to be a fruitcake.
Wake up! He cannot tell you 1) not to offer the Latin Mass, 2) that you need his or anyone else’s permission to do so, and 3) that all the gods of the pagans aren’t demons because, as per Psalm 95, they sure as hell are. And remember, saying that they’re not is simply not Catholic. And what do we call non-Catholics acting like pope? If you said a little boy playing dress up (who happens to not be Catholic) then you get Harvey’s gold star of the day.
You did it! Hooray!
*If you know who Kim Campbell is and you never lived in Canada, you, too, get the gold star.
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 