*I need to post the update right up top. The picture below is of St. Mary’s Cathedral in Austin, TX. It is NOT my parish. I always try to include a picture of church art/architecture from my own photos on this blog. I can see how that picture below given the content of this post can be confusing.*
I have heard too many things over the weekend from a variety of sources around the country pertaining to the coming suppression on the Latin Mass to not be concerned at a heightened level.
Without revealing details, I can say that additional bishops appear ready to drop the hammer on the former Ecclesia Dei communities who serve parishes in their sees. Furthermore, if what I’m hearing is correct, whole communities are essentially on the chopping block.
We’ve kind of known this was coming. What surprises me is the rapidity with which it appears to be happening. These bishops will hide behind a number of factors including, “Cupich made me” to “Fwancis made me” to “it’s for your own good because we need you to abandon that silly old-timey stuff.”
Be prepared. Have a plan. Go to confession and for heaven’s sake, stop committing mortal sins if you haven’t already. You do not know if that confession you made yesterday will be your last for a long time.
The Lord gave us a taste of this two years ago. Remember, bishops shut down the sacraments (many, before a single government entity “ordered” them to). Funny, but Our Lord is also giving us the great grace in these times to recognize the intellectually diminished on the spot. Used to be you’d meet a man and maybe after a few months would begin to realize he wasn’t that bright. Now, they wear face muzzles and I can know who to avoid on the spot.
But now the bishops seem ready to do it again only this time they want you to think you have a choice.
Read Quo Primum. There’s something in there about how priests need no special permission to offer the Mass (emphases mine):
“Furthermore, by these presents [this law], in virtue of Our Apostolic authority, We grant and concede in perpetuity that, for the chanting or reading of the Mass in any church whatsoever, this Missal is hereafter to be followed absolutely, without any scruple of conscience or fear of incurring any penalty, judgment, or censure, and may freely and lawfully be used. Nor are superiors, administrators, canons, chaplains, and other secular priests, or religious, of whatever title designated, obliged to celebrate the Mass otherwise than as enjoined by Us.”
Seems to me a priest needs to remember his rights. Even a valid pope (which Bergoglio certainly is not) cannot take that away unless you let him. Boy this is pretty clear cut. I even ran it past a lawyer yesterday for clarification. Also, the V2 crowd made conscience their god. Well, Fathers, turn the tables. Tell them your conscience won’t allow you to violate this law.
St. Lucy’s Catholic Church/National Shrine of St. Gerard Majella, Newark, NJ
But we know that many of our good Fathers will cower and cave. Pray for them. If you find one who is stalwart, well, you know what you have to do.
God, through His Blessed Mother, will sort this out. And when it’s over, God willing, many of us may very well be saints.
More to come as I am given permission to discuss…
Christ the King, Sovereign Priest, have mercy on us!
With all the portentous news this week of bishops with busted moral compasses and bio labs and nukes, it seems to me the biggest story is what lies ahead.
One by one this week the dominoes started to topple. It started with Cupich and the Institute last Friday. Cupich – the smug, race baiting, vindictive man – never met a true Catholic he couldn’t stomach. He’s shutting down the ICK on his turf; or not if you listen to Doctor Taylor. By the way, I always thought Doctor was a strange first name but to each his own. Sidenote #1: My dad used to tire of getting notes from teachers and principals signed with a string of meaningless academic letters so he used to send his replies back with his signature followed by “FOS” – “Father of Sixteen”. In any event, I do think it’s a done deal, “DWW” (Dad with Webcam” notwithstanding).
Next up we had the delightful item of the Bishops of New Orleans (most demonically oppressed city in the hemisphere), Shreveport, Baton Rouge, Houma-Thiebedoux, and Crawdaddy sign off on the murder of the unborn. They’re just taking their cues from the antipope, I suppose. He’s apparently set to drop a doc on us that supposedly legitimizes the use of condoms and other contraceptives. Just looking out for his buds in the cardinalate. Sidenote #2: No straight man in his right mind would ever consent to covering that up. Just sayin’… it’s a little thing called nature.
Then there was the reportage by Mark Doherty that the US government has systematically been leading us to the brink of a nuclear war over biolabs, and pharmaceuticals. Nice. Sidenote #3: They say we should flee to a safe place like Wyoming but then there’s that whole Yellowstone Caldera thing…
Sanctuary view from Ambulatory, Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Newark, NJ
Finally, though, we have Holy Wilton Gregory, or as his friends call him, “Big Papa” (or so I hear). Hey, who am I to judge, right? Sidenote #4: McCarrick used to call every seminarian by a diminutive. I hated that. He went by “Uncle Ted” to some or “His Nibs” to others. Anyway, Notorious GRG has informed his people that the Latin Mass will effectively end in his diocese because “We love you so much we need to bring you into this craptastic farce called Novus Ordo!” Keep in mind that they insist the NO is the “sole expression” of the Roman Rite and yet they conveniently ignore the Anglican Ordinariate. These men are liars (or stupid to be more charitable).
The reason I think this last item is significant is because it is part of a pattern playing out before us. Chicago, Savannah, DC… The “implementation of TC seems to have taken shape a year after its release and it ain’t pretty. In the coming days and weeks I would look for other bishops to start issuing their own similar documents to Holy Wilton’s.
Final sidenote: I went back and re-read Quo Primum today. My isn’t it fascinating? Here you have a papal bull explicitly stating that no future pope can undo what’s been done in a particular matter. And no one did until 1970. Did Paul VI Montini really think his precious Humanae Vitae wouldn’t meet the same fate 50 years later?
Mother Inviolate, pray for us!
St. Mary Magdalene, the Penitent, the one who loved much, pray for us!
Earlier today, Ann Barnhardt posted her usual hot take/words of wisdom and as usual, yours truly couldn’t agree more. Go check it out. The interpretive statement, though, is that since the Roman Mass is apparently being suppressed in the hellhole city of Chicago, there is absolutely no reason to remain if you are a faithful Catholic.
I’ve been to Chicago many times. Years ago it was a happening place replete with all the things that make for a world class city. In the 1990’s and early 2000’s even, it was the beneficiary of the same circumstances that made for a low-crime urban habitation. Believe me, it wasn’t the Daly Machine either. As my late father, the actuary, pointed out to me once, it had to do with birthrates in the 1980’s. Seems there were far more baby girls born at that time than boys (statistically speaking). As young men commit the majority of crime, the crime rate dipped in large cities 15-20 years later, broken windows policing notwithstanding.
Ann called her that “dyke psychopath mayor”. In my repost of yesterday’s blog over on Gloria.tv I went with something similar. I was itching to call Lori Lightfoot exactly what she is but restrained myself. This proves once again that Barnhardt has far less native fear than I. So I’ll use the phrase “gremlin dyke mayor from hell” here instead.
Altar of St. Ann, Basilique Saint-Sauveur, Dinan, France
And I agree with Ann. There is no reason to stay in Chicago. And soon there may be no reason to stay in Dallas or Newark or Sarasota or Little Rock. You see, when they start shutting down the Mass, it’s time to leave. Only bad things can be on the horizon in places where Our Lord is persona non grata.
“But there are plenty of Novus Ordo masses in the Windy City!”
Can it, you breathless fool.
If I wanted to be “blessed” by a faggot holding an acoustic guitar I’d save myself the airfare and wait until Lil’ NasX was in town. Also, I’d never be caught dead at a Lil’ NasX show. How about you take your horse to the old town road and send it to the glue factory, Twinkle Toes?
This does bring up the interesting question. Are we already at the doorstep of the prophecy of Daniel? And what do faithful Catholics do when the mass is taken away from them by diabolical prelates? Folks, I don’t have an answer but I will tell you that I am clutching my beads, taking advantage of every Mass I can get to, and staying as confessed as possible.
And I think that’s the best advice I can give right now. Look, if they’ll do it in Chicago, they will certainly do it where you are. Make friends with solid priests. And when the time comes, be prepared to open your homes to them and to support them.
A few days ago I wrote a post about how men should dress. Since I am a man and I wear clothes I figured I would start with myself. Today I put that lecture into practice.
The day started obscenely early. Everyone in the house was up at 5 so we could get our last minute packing completed. I mentioned that I’ve already started wearing at minimum a jacket to daily mass. Mass this morning – for my family – was at 7AM and from there we’d be heading to the airport.
I always remember my dad telling me about the golden age of airline travel. “Back then (pre-1970) people would dressed up to travel. It was an adventure and you had to look your best because it was required.”
Today, I dressed up to board a plane.
And I rocked it.
Commanding respect at every turn – from TSA to the concessionaires to the gate agents and flight attendants – I turned heads. It didn’t take much. I wore a light blue sport coat over a white dress shirt with a pair of navy trousers. That’s it. But contrast that image with the tank tops and booty shorts and general skin-on-display freak show that is a modern airport terminal and you will understand why I stood out.
I strode through the concourse with a swagger I didn’t know I possessed. My shoulders were back and broadened over my tapering frame. It’s amazing how good clothing will do that for you especially since I do not have a tapering frame. Confident doesn’t begin to describe my attitude this morning boarding a flight for a family vacation to Florida. Others looked like they were bound for a theme park from hell. I could have easily been heading to Mar-a-lago. And I want to emphasize I did not spend a fortune on this getup. The jacket cost $10 at a thrift store.
On the plane I sat back and took out a book I’ve been slowly making my way through for months. Many of you probably know it well. See the picture below. The drinks came free. I was not in first class but was treated like I was. I cannot say it was the attire but I cannot not say that either.
My in-flight vibe
The best part about this experience is that, despite the soaring temperatures, I was cool as a cucumber.
I looked good and I felt good and people noticed.
This is how, in my truly humble opinion, we should do it. I’m tired of dressing like a boy running onto a rugby pitch just because that’s what everyone else does. For, when we dress our best, it shows forth our respect for others. A random woman in the elevator even told me so. “My you look very nice today!” she said as she smiled. I thanked her and smiled back. I hope I made her day.
Unfortunately my daughter and I encountered a perfect example of the opposite of this idea when we got to our hotel. We went downstairs for a dip in the pool. A young couple whom I will charitably assume are misguided sauntered past us. The guy was wearing knee-length board shorts. His lady friend appeared to have been clad in dental floss. I turned to my daughter and asked (quite cattily), “Ever hear of side boob?” She nodded and laughed. “That poor thing is missing so much fabric, she’s got underboob.” My daughter laughed heartily and replied, “And her butt’s falling out too.” Forgive the off-color tone but we decided to write an action story based on what we witnessed. It will be called The Adventures of Underboob and Sideass. Hey, we had to witness it so you get to hear about it. It will be tastefully written. No illustrations though.
Seriously, folks. Modesty means covering the things that God intends to be revealed only to certain people or for certain purposes. I’ve said before that suits make a man look more manly. See the remark about my tapering frame above. And there is nothing more beautiful or feminine than a modestly dressed woman.
And once again the Blessed Mother will come through for me. I’ve already lined up daily Latin masses for every day of this trip.
We departed our beach house yesterday morning and headed for home. This morning I woke up in a hotel room in Atlanta, GA.
This morning began early. That’s because it’s Sunday. This was both a travel day (meaning, for us, we would drive about 800 miles) and the Lord’s Day (meaning we would move Heaven and earth to find a traditional Latin mass).
In the suburb of Mableton, GA, we attended the 8AM low mass for Pentecost in, drumroll please…
Another St. Francis de Sales parish!
Have I mentioned he’s the patron of writers and I think he’s stalking this writer?
This parish is run by our old friends, the FSSP and has been ensconced in this current property since the early 2000’s. I actually attended a daily mass here a year ago. The parish church is not huge but not particularly tiny either. So it surprised me that there was a sign in the parking lot indicating mass would be in the gym. After some searching we found said gym. Down a hill. A very long bill.
I surmise that the interior of the church building might be undergoing some renovations as the gym has, in addition to a few hundred folding chairs, a semi-permanent sanctuary space made out of finer polished oak and complete with a proper rail on three sides.
St. Francis de Sales, Mableton, GA. Picture taken last year on a different trip.
The priest who said mass preached a phenomenal homily, as is now expected by me of all Fraternity priests.
What really caught my attention, though, was the fact that every single person in attendance was properly attired. I will be writing on proper mass attire soon. But especially the men…
Suits.
Ties.
Hair neatly parted.
Like men.
Grown men.
Strong masculine men who love their wives and children and aren’t trying to show off but simply to look their level best for Christ and His sacrifice.
As I said, more on that to come. Just remember, this was Atlanta and there was a certain Gone With the Wind vibe to be felt.
I loved it.
And I truly loved that the great Mother of God, Mary Most Holy absolutely came through for me. I mentioned I had asked her prior to this trip to make Latin mass available to me every day. That she did.
Never doubt the love of a mother for her children. She wants only good things for us. She is happy when we want to kneel beside her as her Son gives Himself for our sins. I think of the many times in my life when my own ingratitude towards her Son’s sacrifice must have pierced her Immaculate Heart.
Never again.
Mother, give me to worship thy Son every day in His sacrifice!
And she did. And she will.
And He is only too happy to oblige anything she asks of Him.
At the start of this long cross-country road trip, I asked Blessed Mother to make it possible to keep my promise to come to worship Her Son at daily Latin mass every single day.
So far, so good.
On Sunday morning I attended a 7AM low mass at St. Benedict’s parish in Chesapeake, VA. This parish is run by the FSSP. The pastor took the time to approach my son and me after mass to introduce himself and welcome us. This was a beautiful place and a much needed respite on a Sunday morning. Granted my son and I drove an hour and a half to get to this mass even though a dear friend, a priest, had offered an anticipated Novus Ordo Sunday mass the previous evening at the house where we are staying at the beach.
I explained to my teenage son that the Novus Ordo is valid and that this fulfilled our Sunday obligation. So at 5:15 in the morning on our way to Chesapeake I asked him, “Son, in your own words, why did you want to get up so early and go to this mass?”
His reply was perfect.
“Dad,” he said, “I have a preference for the TLM. And it’s Sunday and I go to mass on Sunday.”
God bless my boy. I pray he is called to the holy priesthood one day.
And even since then, Blessed Mother has come through. Without going into any details, another dear friend decided to vacation with us and to offer a daily TLM in our vacation rental.
He asked me to serve for him. I explained that, although I have been present at daily Latin mass for almost four years, I have never served one proper. He put his trust in me and allowed me to use the red book. It went fine.
This morning, still a little incredulous that I had served a Latin mass the night before, I served again. This time I had a bit more awareness about me. After the consecration I could not take my eyes off the Host. “That is Him,” I thought to myself. “That is the Victim Par Excellence.” I had a better vantage point than I have ever had, kneeling beside my old friend as he offered the sacrifice. I witnessed him in a whisper speaking to God Almighty, commanding that bread and wine be transubstantiated into the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of His Son. The Host lay on the corporal. The Body of my Lord was on the altar being offered for my sins. I could not take my eyes off of Him except for a moment to look out the window, distracted by the Atlantic Ocean.
“You made that,” I thought to myself. “You made that vast ocean for love of me. I don’t know why this thought came to me but it did. This I believe, is the true personal relationship with Our Lord to which we are called.
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 