I dunno, but I get the impression that those priests who do not fulfill their duties to provide the Sacraments to the Little Flock of Jesus also don’t have the opportunity to “pick” flowers for the Immaculate Conception that I do, and even if they had the opportunity apart from visiting the elderly and sick and dying at their homes they might well not see what is right in front of them. Bringing Jesus to His Little Flock opens one’s eyes to the maternal goodness of Jesus’ good mom for Jesus’ Little Flock. And one wants to give her the flowers created by her dear Son that we might do just that. So, flowers for you, Mary. Hail Mary…
That picture is from some time in Lent. It’s just to show what a mantilla is. I saw these in the early to mid 1960s when I grew up in Minnesota. But they are making a comeback in no small measure due to our more devout Latino community. Mantillas are catching on with our “Anglo” community.
Before Holy Mass the other day one such “Anglo” lady was opening up a box she had received, opening it up in church. She was so excited that she couldn’t help herself. Her order of mantillas had arrived. Black and white and gold, simple and ornate. She wants to start a business making mantillas. Cries of joy. Meanwhile, other ladies coming in for Holy Mass shared her joy and got to wear one of the mantillas and declared their enthusiasm to start wearing the ones they had once again.
I declared again that I think I have the best parish in the world and we proceeded to the Holy Sacrifice.
So, no wonder Joe Biden is forbidding any emphasis on Mount Rushmore on 4 July 2021. I get it. No fireworks to celebrate the Constitution that celebrates God-given unalienable rights. Dems what all rights to be repealed, trampled upon, given to whom they like as an act of politically expedient condescension. No. I celebrate the free exercise of religion, the freedom to assemble, to speak freely even when that’s unpopular, the right to defend the innocent from the threat of deadly, already being delivered aggression, etc. Let’s see… that fireworks celebration… Ah, yes…
In years past this blog has sported articles about my mom. Logistical circumstances have brought me to make a review of those missives, combining some of them in this posting. I apologize for the rather out-of-the-ordinary weirdness of what is contained herein. It is what it is. I lived it. I think my mom is the best. Long time readers will roll their eyes with all of this, you know, “Here we go again!” Anyway…
Some of those writings were spurred on by a guy who, after years of apparently sloppy “intel” harassment, presented himself as a CIA *ass*et to a friend, whom he tried to offer a very far-reaching bribe (deep into DC darkness) for info about yours truly. Ooo! Info! Sigh. I’m such an open book. So, like, why? Boring! Anyway, the bribe, connected with that self-identification, is about as lawless as it gets regardless of the truth of anything claimed. He burned himself on that one, as it were, so to speak. He’s fake based just on that, unless, as it happens, he lost it, was desperate, didn’t know how otherwise to get some street cred. There was also, at the same time, terrible baiting from a guy who I call my “Shadow.” Long time readers are acquainted with that drama. My “Shadow” is a guy who has been established with secured identity by DS, which identity happens to be mine because of stupid oversight during the very beginnings of Fast and Furious arms transfers to cartels by these USA, stupid oversight which those in the know laugh about to this day, but I do not. That‘s the driving engine of many incidents in my life.
When one is on the radar of the CIA for whatever reason (in my case, because of my “Shadow”), there are evaluations to be made as time goes on with perpetual and interdepartmental programs. About the most important aspect of an investigation into the personality of a candidate who is to be or is already in some way connected with the CIA – knowingly or unknowingly – is about one’s own evaluation of one’s mother. Shrinks are always the same, wherever they are to be found! This is about deep seated perspective on what goodness is to be in the view of the subject, and therefore what he is capable or incapable of doing on various assignments or as a fall guy. This information is to be had through analyses wrought on answers to innumerable questions coming in from innumerable angles, written, oral, and otherwise, all of which inasmuch as possible are confirmed, verified. I was voluntold early on in life – in grade school – to do up such admitted at the time to be experimental exams, and those went on through junior high school and high school, diversely in prep school, diversely again in the seminary, diversely again by other ways and means. But this is all other than what one goes through when being associated in some way with the CIA. This *ass*et guy, self-tasked with the always important and tell-all follow-up to any such company evaluations as years go by, decided to go the way of tricked out baiting that speaks to an admission of one’s history with such evaluations, that is, with “conclusions” pasted on an individual such that any subject believes what evaluators have to say, with their evaluation made to be your own because of the undeniability of answering the way one did in grueling million question psych exams. I don’t know if anyone can read between the lines here… Anyway, the baiting?
- “Verbalize your evaluation of your mother.”
“Your evaluation” refers to assessors’ work about you. “Verbalization” (distinct from any evaluation) instantly provides permission to distance oneself from the conclusions of previous evaluations foisted upon the individual, having one verbalize an ad hoc personal evaluation that is perhaps not so consonant with what has already been analyzed in the past through those days and weeks and months of others sorting through of one’s psyche. But I’ve never belonged to the CIA or been involved as any kind of asset.
The reason for the CIA evaluator *ass*et guy asking about mom isn’t just because I had instead been posting a lot about dad after the great Mark Meadows (our back in the day NC Senator and then White House Chief of Staff) had obtained for me my dad’s super-abundant war-time medals from both the Navy and Army – and therefore not putting much emphasis on mom just then – but rather also because of something that happened following the message I left with CCS at Main State back in the day, that was on Tuesday, 18 December 2018, with me trying to distance myself from my “Shadow.”
Shortly after that message about my “Shadow” was left with CCS at Main State, my “Shadow” called me up for a two hour and forty minute phone call, which amounts to more than I’ve spoken with that “Shadow” guy my entire life put together. At one point, my “Shadow”, beside himself, beyond so very many times saying that he was god-damning me and stating that I should be in hell forever, beyond stating that he wants to kill Jews (also my heritage, therefore, a threat), my “Shadow” said that my mom was a B****, if once, then a dozen times, with great vehemence. shrieking. Mom died in the early-mid 1990s. May she rest in peace. The rant of my “Shadow” was truly epic, the kind of thing that would be recounted in a presentation at the International Spy Museum by CIA shrinks trying to figure out what makes spies tick. For him to be pumped on mind-numbing but utterly raging and outraging adrenaline for two hours and forty minutes is quite impossible, as this would lead to collapse. During this call – which I’m guessing and hoping was recorded by CCS – I always maintained a calm voice and forgave the guy at the end, saying that I hope that he, instead, would make it to heaven (he hung up at that point after like eight seconds of dumbfoundedness). Does that mean I don’t care about what he said about my mom? Am I some kind of monster who is not offended when my mom is offended? Just how is it that I evaluate my mom? Isn’t she worth defending? What makes me tick? Interesting, thought I, all this happening, as I say, very soon after my message left with CCS at Main State about him.
The picture above, taken by some friends of my parents, goes back some thirty+ years. It’s winter time. Myrtle Beach. Dad’s birthday and mine (we were two days apart). Good times with both mom and dad. Everyone happy. I’m wearing a shirt and sweater they gave me as birthday presents. If you want to know what my mom and I thought of each other, take a look at that picture. See the two foreheads together? That’s a kind of Vulcan mind-meld, though as a matter of the heart, of currents of existence that escape categorizations and evaluations. Meanwhile, notice mom’s free hand on the one shoulder, dad’s free hand on the other shoulder. I’m totally the son of my dad and my mom.
As to the CIA evaluator *ass*et guy’s request for verbalization of any evaluation of mom, becoming reflective, I simply said to his face that she was melancholic and liked to read a lot. That was me baiting him. After all, what kind of question is that about your own mom? That question is, in and of itself, monstrous. Love is much more than mind games. In return, the CIA evaluator *ass*et guy baited me once again, immediately telling me a story about a compulsive reader. “Compulsive.” Sigh… Such a baiting word. Why not just say she’s a B**** who has prostituted herself to books? But that’s the bait for reaction. So I did react.
I said that she was willing to go through all-out-hell as a guinea-pig at the Navy’s N.I.H., literally in deadly conditions, at the edge of death, for weeks at a time, in screaming pain, for my sake. I remember the phone calls we would get at home from N.I.H. setting up the sessions out East. Even the phone calls were traumatic. The sessions were monstrous. I can’t even bring myself to relate what she described. My mom? She’s a martyr of love for me. What do you think I think of her? Thanks, mom. You’re the best. You guys did good, too, at N.I.H. The head doctor for this talked to me over the phone back in the day, giving advice which has stood me in good stead all these decades. What they did, what SHE did, has saved my life countless, countless times over. This was able to be set up because, of course, dad was USMC, which is the history of the Navy’s N.I.H.
Bonus story about mom: I found the picture above of the hand-carved Pietà which, at least when I was a kid, was situated in a side niche chapel in the at-the-time beautiful but now long wreckovated crypt church of Saint Mary’s Cathedral in Saint Cloud, Minnesota. This used to be a purposely-in-the-shadows mysterious just-lit-by-candles shrine with long kneelers surrounding the banks of candles. Now it’s annoyingly lit up more by spotlights than candles. At least they left one kneeler there. I’m happy to see it’s well worn.
My best memory of mom is when – frequently, mind you – she would bring me, just a couple of years old, then three and four and five years old… when she would bring me down into those mysterious candle-lit shadows and we would kneel before Mother Mary holding her ever so dead Son, the Incarnate Word. She taught me how to light a candle. I would look on in wonder and awe at the majestic Mother of God holding Him… Jesus…
I would return here on my own when I knew a bit of Latin. Understanding what it meant, the verse was instantly ingrained in my mind in Latin, and has re-echoed throughout my life quite continuously:
- O vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte si est dolor sicut dolor meus.
- O you, all of you who pass by the way, be attentive and see whether there is a sorrow such as my sorrow.
That, of course, is from the Hebrew Scriptures, Lamentations 1:12, that is 1:ל. You know the inscription above, the abbreviation for the Latin, INRI, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews. It’s a fuzzy picture, but there are also the beginning and ending letters of the Greek alphabet, the Alpha and Omega, you know, the First and the Last, He Who Is. And then there’s the more visible symbol of the Greek letters beginning the title Christ, that is, Messiah, the Anointed One, the Suffering Servant, the One who takes upon Himself all our transgressions, sins, standing in our place, the Innocent for the guilty, so as to have the right in His own justice to have mercy on us.
So, Mary beholds the sins of the world wrecked upon her Son. Could there be any sorrow like hers? And we kneel before Jesus in her arms, our hearts ripped out of our chests…
And my mom brought me here to introduce me to Jesus’ mom. What do you think I think of my mom? Can I verbalize it? Words fail me. Did Jesus love His mom? Could He, the Word Incarnate, Verbum Incarnatum, verbalize that?
I’ll just light a candle, you know, something about the Light of the Nations, the Light shining in the darkness, and then say a prayer… Hail Mary… even for the CIA evaluator *ass*et guy, and all the rest of the CIA. After all:
But a Hail Mary for my “Shadow” and my mom too, and dad.
I was bringing in groceries the other day, leaving the gate open as Laudie-dog was in the house and Shadow-dog never wants to venture out of the yard. But this time he surprised me and ran out and straightaway jumped into the back of Sassy the Subaru… and he wouldn’t leave the back end of the car. He’s saying:
- “From now on there ain’t no way you’re going away without me being with you, little Georgie. It’s scary out there. I know, because I’m here when you’re gone, and you have no idea what I keep away from the homestead.”
Of course, that would involve heaps of very expensive training, harnesses, permits (for which I’m not necessarily qualified), etc. I’d rather have him watch over the homestead. We still have no police on active duty.
If I do get him down from the car I just have to say “Up!” and he flies into the back, happy as ever. Still gotta wonder if he was on his way to being trained up as a drug dog. There are some things that just come natural to him. If I did bring him with me, Subaru has a kind of fence you can install way in the back or maybe aftermarket dealers make the same for behind the front seats (with the back seats folded down). That way I could leave him locked in the car with the back windows half down and the front windows all the way down. Anyone reaching inside the front to unlock the doors manually so as to jack the ignition will set off the factory installed car alarm, also setting off a bark-alarm. Shadow could, I imagine, rip down any such fence if he wanted and make quick work of the car-jacker. ;-)
Just got a phone call from her son, a best friend. Donna was younger than me. In great health. Just like that. When the Lord calls, there’s nothing we can do but go. This was very sudden, but she did have a provided-for death.
More later on this great woman of the Church. I’m literally running out the door for first Confessions and more Confessions and Mass.
Three Hail Marys, please…
At times I follow diocesan newspapers and even various publications of parish bulletins from right around the world. In one such publication a parish priest exclaimed with effervescent joy:
- “Easter is a season of new life and our vaccination efforts are a most appropriate way to celebrate.”
How’s that? New life in the womb, the very image of God, is murdered so that we can arrogantly “benefit” from this murder?
Johnson and Johnson brags on their own website (no journalist misinformation here)
- “For more than 20 years, Johnson & Johnson has invested billions of dollars in antivirals and vaccine capabilities. The COVID-19 vaccine program is leveraging Janssen’s proven AdVac® and PER.C6® technologies that provide the ability to rapidly develop new vaccine candidates and upscale production of the optimal vaccine candidate. The same technology was used to develop and manufacture the Company’s Ebola vaccine and construct our Zika, RSV, and HIV vaccine candidates which are in Phase 2 or Phase 3 clinical development stages.”
AdVac® refers to a kidney HEK293 purposely ripped out of some kid for research, that child, made in the image of God, having been tested for age since fully developed organs are needed and tested for health since an absolutely healthy viable child is what is needed for research.
PER.C6® refers to an eyeball gouged out of some kid years later for research, that child, made in the image of God, having been tested for age since fully developed organs are needed and tested for health since an absolutely healthy viable child is what is needed for research.
It’s all effervescent and joyful celebration of the risen Lord Jesus to murder children for our own “benefit”?
- “But Father George, Father George! You don’t understand! We’re distanced from those abortions ’cause they happened like a long time ago and stuff like that. We’re better today because we, like, live today. We’re not like those meanie abortionists and those losers getting abortions for pay. We’re nice people because we’re us and not them! Get with it, Father George!”
Here’s the deal: God holds the entire expanse of time in His hands as just another creation. He sees all of us at once, those children getting murdered and people getting Covid “vaccinations” that are the direct result of those murders, fully “benefitting” they think, until they go to hell.
There was no way to these “vaccines” in research, development or testing that did not come about without the purposed murder of children in the womb. Saint Paul says that they are justly condemned (to hell, forever) who say that one may achieve good by purposely doing evil.
How can any priest or bishop shriek that their priests and flock get the “vaccine” and then proclaim at the consecrations at Mass: “This is my body” – “This is the chalice of my blood”? How? I don’t get that, not at all. What the hell are they doing?
- “But Father George, Father George! You don’t understand! We heard on EWTN that it’s all good.”
Instead, I hold that – all things being equal – anyone getting this “vaccination” and/or encouraging people to do so is committing a mortal sin. It’s one continuum of purposed murder so that people can be injected with “vaccines.” It is formal cooperation such that even if one were not in the sterile conditions of a laboratory conducting the abortion and organ extractions, the only reason that is being done is because of the recipient’s hot desire to have had these children murdered for themselves. The importance of any “proximate” analyses are cancelled because of this formal cooperation in this great evil.
It’s not material cooperation, providing one’s arm. No. You lift you arm and you’re seeing yes to all of it.
I’ve heard people proclaim that this is all just remote and that therefore culpability is reduced. All things being equal, that’s bullshit. I would fear to say to Mary at the judgment, she appearing as with-child, that you want to rip Jesus out of her womb for research, development and testing, you know, so that you can live forever… or something… From the book of Revelation
- “Damn you Father George! Stop making this about Jesus! How dare you! Are you implying that we couldn’t give one flipping damn about Jesus?! How dare you! How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! WE’LL SHOW YOU!”
- Father George: ” (… yawn …) Whatever…”
Jesus couldn’t care less about any kind of demonic threat. Let’s see some passages from yesterday’s Liturgy of the Hours:
Apocalypse 14 — The victory of the Lamb
“A third angel followed the others and said in a loud voice: ‘If anyone worships the beast or its image, or accepts its mark on his forehead or hand, he too will drink the wine of God’s wrath, poured full strength into the cup of his anger. He will be tormented in burning sulphur before the holy angels and before the Lamb, and the smoke of their torment shall rise forever and ever. There shall be no relief day or night for those who worship the beast or its image or accept the mark of its name.’ This is what sustains the holy ones, who keep the commandments of God and their faith in Jesus. I heard a voice from heaven say to me: ‘Write this down: Happy now are the dead who die in the Lord!’ The Spirit added, ‘Yes, they shall find rest from their labors, for their good works accompany them.'”
Covid analogy: Whatever about an actual mark or some thing on forehead or hand, that’s all about doing the will and works of Satan, anyone who worships the beast or its image, as the text says, for he is a liar and murderer from the beginning. Those dying because they did not get some “vaccine” or from persecution for not getting the vaccine have this written about them: “Happy now are the dead who die in the Lord!” The Spirit added, “Yes, they shall find rest from their labors, for their good works accompany them.” Get it? Never before has basically every person on the face of the earth been required to yes or no, to life or death, to following God or following Satan. It’s distressing to see pretty much every one run away from God. Jesus asked, “Will I find any faith on earth when I return?” He will be looking through the gouged out eyes of the babies whose eyes were ripped out of their skulls for the “vaccine.”
From a sermon by Saint Peter Chrysologus, bishop — (Sermo 108: PL 52, 499-500) — Each of us is called to be both a sacrifice to God and his priest
“Listen to the Lord’s appeal: […] “Do not be afraid. This cross inflicts a mortal injury, not on me, but on death. These nails no longer pain me, but only deepen your love for me. I do not cry out because of these wounds, but through them I draw you into my heart. My body was stretched on the cross as a symbol, not of how much I suffered, but of my all-embracing love. I count it no less to shed my blood: it is the price I have paid for your ransom. Come, then, return to me and learn to know me as your father, who repays good for evil, love for injury, and boundless charity for piercing wounds.”
[But there are those who are afraid to follow Jesus in not getting the mark of the beast or not worshipping the beast:]
“Listen now to what the Apostle urges us to do. I appeal to you, he says, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice. By this exhortation of his, Paul has raised all men to priestly status. How marvelous is the priesthood of the Christian, for he is both the victim that is offered on his own behalf, and the priest who makes the offering. He does not need to go beyond himself to seek what he is to immolate to God: with himself and in himself he brings the sacrifice he is to offer God for himself. The victim remains and the priest remains, always one and the same. Immolated, the victim still lives: the priest who immolates cannot kill. Truly it is an amazing sacrifice in which a body is offered without being slain and blood is offered without being shed. The Apostle says: I appeal to you by the mercy of God to present your bodies as a living sacrifice. Brethren, this sacrifice follows the pattern of Christ’s sacrifice by which he gave his body as a living immolation for the life of the world. He really made his body a living sacrifice, because, though slain, he continues to live. In such a victim death receives its ransom, but the victim remains alive. Death itself suffers the punishment. This is why death for the martyrs is actually a birth, and their end a beginning. Their execution is the door to life, and those who were thought to have been blotted out from the earth shine brilliantly in heaven. Paul says: I appeal to you by the mercy of God to present your bodies as a sacrifice, living and holy. The prophet said the same thing: Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but you have prepared a body for me. Each of us is called to be both a sacrifice to God and his priest. Do not forfeit what divine authority confers on you. Put on the garment of holiness, gird yourself with the belt of chastity. Let Christ be your helmet, let the cross on your forehead be your unfailing protection. Your breastplate should be the knowledge of God that he himself has given you. Keep burning continually the sweet smelling incense of prayer. Take up the sword of the Spirit. Let your heart be an altar. Then, with full confidence in God, present your body for sacrifice. God desires not death, but faith; God thirsts not for blood, but for self-surrender; God is appeased not by slaughter, but by the offering of your free will.”
By the by: Planned Parenthood has been selling organs of kids for years. It’s a zillion dollar business for them. To whom are they selling the babies’ organs? Biden has lifted absolutely all restrictions on research using babies.
What bothers me is that the very catholic publications pushing this murder of Jesus’ image for their own benefit brag about providing links so that people can do their own research. One of those links is good, going to the Lozier institute.
But that inclusion is not done to support the Lozier Institute; it’s to say that it’s been seen, is precious, but is to be dismissed by us, because we’re clever and sophisticated and because we are mature Christians and can make our own decisions and our decision is to murder Jesus’ image in the womb. I get it.
I also get that I’m so dead, because I’m saying all this. I’m happy to dead in the Lord Jesus, hidden with Him in God, to be alive in heaven for all eternity. That is my hope. I don’t deserve that heaven. But Jesus is good and kind if we lay down our lives for Him.
Is this your hope, too?
So, just in these last days and weeks, Canada has been following Ireland, so that everything is pretty much wide open, but if there are one or two people in church for Holy Mass (this time a Traditional Latin Mass), all hell breaks out and the Covid Police come to smack people down, chasing altar boys into the sacristy (Yikes!) and parishioners thrown out of the church, the police demanding that they want identifying info to put the offenders on “THE LIST” surely turning into “THE BOOK.”
But will this not turn out to be the Book of Life, with those so listed going to heaven, keeping up with the sacraments?
I’m not bragging with these Flowers for the Immaculate Conception. No. It’s easy for me in far, far, far Western North Carolina. Zero law enforcement officers of any agency could care less about Covid, masks, social distancing, whatever. And we have that on film, multiple agencies in a town meeting with extreme lack of social distancing, none of them wearing a mask. So, it’s easy for me to offer Holy Mass for the past year and a half as normal as normal can be. It’s easy for me to provide all the Sacraments for Jesus’ flock. That’s not to virtue signal. No. Any priest by chance in these parts would do the same, all things being equal, right?
For priests in Ireland, Canada, the Vatican, and elsewhere around the world, things aren’t so easy. There is an outright persecution. Would I be as brave as some of them are in persecution? I’m not going to claim that. That’s about God’s grace, and I have no control over that. Without God’s grace, I’m a total idiot.
So, if I’m doing my rounds to provide the Sacraments and I take a picture of flowers for the Immaculate Conception like the picture up top, it’s also as a gift to her on behalf of those who would do this if they could or are smacked down for trying. So, flowers for you, dearest Mary, from us priests around the world. Show yourself to be a mother to us! Monstra te esse Matrem! We pray for those who are ever so afraid afraid afraid afraid afraid. Hail Mary…
I like that… “according to a police report.” Best police ever. LOL.
This is why USMC is the USMC. This is why LEOs are LEOs. Yay! LOL.
Sorry, it’s said that we’re not to rejoice in the downfall of our brethren… um…. (laughing out loud, more quietly). LOL LOL LOL! Can’t help myself.
Here’s the deal. We are not to rejoice in the moral downfall of anyone. We are not to hope that someone goes to hell. No. That would not give glory to Jesus but only to Satan. I get that. But this is just, say, a guardian angel tripping this guy up so that he can turn his life around. And in that we can all rejoice. LOL.
We’re looking to get the 8th police chief in three years coming up. Get that? You think that’s the fault of the chiefs, of the officers, all of them, so many officers, so many chiefs, in so little time, career LEOs or fresh out of BLET?
There was a town meeting last week at the Firehouse. We found out that our officers not only did not break the law, but that they did not break any policy, at all. In fact, what they are accused of allegedly doing seems entirely reasonable, laudable, indeed, necessary, as a matter of personal, city and county security, and because of that, of state and national security. If what happened to these officers is happening elsewhere, we’re all drowning in deep sewerage. Personally, I think they should get a medal for what they allegedly did, casting a light – with humor :-) – on what seems to me to be dark and dangerous and wide, wide, wide open to abuse. Yep. It’s always best to avoid pre-arranged ambushes of police officers, don’t you think? :-)
I pushed a bit in that town meeting – speaking four times – with the last intervention being four words: “Pay and back-pay.” It worked. Now they have their pay, though they are still suspended. I call them victims, not perps. I do not think they did anything imprudent, or because they lack experience, or whatever. Some of these guys have long time military and law enforcement careers. Instead, I think they allegedly did what they very precisely had to do until investigations about who and why can take place. :-)
If what allegedly happened to them in their police station – taking them by surprise – happened in my house, I would not have the same actually very benign and humorous and entirely laughable response. :-)
I would be very much tempted to do the Keanu Reeves thing if I were outside the city limits and having no neighbors, tempted to… – in less than a second and from the hip – take out multiple non-human non-animal targets. :-)
I have done up a bit of practice and I am happy to report that it has stuck with me. Sorry, just a bit of humor there. Laugh with me. :-)
It would have fictionally gone something like this in that fictional house of mine :-)
Let me say one more thing: :-)
To the liberals out there: Don’t be Red Flagging me for putting up a bit of humor with Mel Gibson. This IS humor. We’re allowed humor, are we not? Oh, I forgot, liberals have no sense of humor, except, say our Vice-President, who hysterically laughs in the face of drug cartels and human trafficking and sexual abuse and murder in kid-cages at the border. I would laugh, instead, at what would be truly humorous, like the the alleged perps of our day going to prison, say Hillary and Bill, say Comey and Rosenstein, say Kerry and Pelosi, say drug cartels and sex traffickers. :-)
Take Nathan, give him 104 temperature sickness, ready to collapse, and make sure that up to this point you, the math professor, have put pressure on him and everyone else in class by saying 4 times a week for months, during every math class, that there will be an exam without which one would not only fail the course but the entire year of high school if it was missed, so that you’re obliged to come even if your family dies, even if you die. And then, you, the math professor, when the day finally comes, you tell everyone to put their books and papers and all such down on the floor as they are not needed, that this will be an oral exam. You will draw out the problem on the blackboard and then call on a student to answer for everyone else. But then you draw it out not on the blackboard, but a few inches away from the blackboard, so that everyone has to intensely follow the chalk flying around in the air off of the blackboard. you know, one of those lots of garbage = equals lots of garbage equations, something like this:
I can’t remember what the first problem was, but it was some such rubbish. I was the one who was sick, terribly sick, almost collapsing to the floor. “George!” the professor exclaimed, calling on me to answer. I did, correctly. Some other students were miffed telling him to leave me alone because, couldn’t he see I was sick? But I got it right. He did this writing rubbish in the air way in front of the blackboard two more times. He again called on me two more times. Other students stood up and objected the second time. The third time most all the class stood up and were loudly voicing that they wanted to be called on because I should be given a break. I got those right as well. But that experience – probably rightly intentioned by the professor to give me confidence that I could do such mental gymnastics in that rather rather elite if also local prep school – set me into a severe mental block of innumeracy lasting until this very day. I did NOT like that professor. Perhaps I didn’t like being even helpfully challenged at the time, wanting to set my own and I thought better challenges. And that’s how weak I was in getting on with life. My bad. It is what it is. Grrr!
Meanwhile, all that once-upon-a-time numeracy now turned into innumeracy was directed to that which was to any biblical exegete an impossible task, Genesis 2:4a–3:24. Got that one too. Nailed it. But this remains an agony for me every day of my life. I must do a popular version of this explication of how original sin is by propagation not imitation, of how the Mother of the Redeemer in Genesis 3:15 is immaculate, as is her Son, our Redeemer. But the profs have made this difficult with their threats of attack, promising that I won’t be able to publish (which threat they made good on immediately). I got the doctorate with honors but… hell! And that’s how weak I still am in getting on with life. My bad. Is it what it is. Grrr! I’m waiting for logistics to be able to accomplish the task, but not doing much to make them happen.
In the video above Nathan smacks his head against the blackboard in an agony of how it is that he can bring about an easy to understand explanation for the class. That’s me, smacking my head against my computer screen, agonizing how it is that I can bring about an easy to understand explanation for all and sundry.
In the case of the exegesis, the problem is not mental gymnastics, but rather a matter of faith. It’s not that people are to be bullied into seeing whatever explanation. The literary logic, if you will, is quite mathematical. It’s not hard. It speaks for itself. But like me in getting an innumeracy mental block because of non-friendship with a math professor, what makes an explanation of the historical philology of the ancient biblical Hebrew difficult is not the philological logistics, not the historical analysis of changing syntax and literary tricks, but the pre-emptive rejection of anything to do with the faith by those profs who should know better, what with their being priests and studied up in all things linguistic and biblical. They are afraid of conclusions consonant with the faith.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: while in Rome for some 14+ years I did not meet even once a single professor actively teaching who believed in original sin. Not one. Not in any Pontifical University or Athenaeum or Institute or whatever, even the ones known to be the “most conservative” or the “most orthodox.” Indeed, they were some of the very worst.
This is hard for me to take in. It is to look upon the wounds of Jesus which I also put there. While I might enjoy some smidgeon of understanding that Jesus has forgiven me – to this point, as far as I know, anyway – it is so unbearable to see so many scandalizing so many worldwide who are ever so intransigent about accepting the fact of original sin, personal sin, redemption, forgiveness, the divinity of the Redeemer. They. Do. Not. Want. To. Hear. Truth.
Maybe some day I’ll get over myself, take myself less seriously, take Jesus and His wounds more seriously, take the salvation of souls, including the souls of those who throw away the Key of Knowledge – Jesus – more seriously…
Anything that we ever do for Jesus and Mary has nothing to do with the simple logistics of things. It has everything to do with being believers, an active faith, in reverence before Him who is Truth, Love, Life. I’m so very weak that our dear Lord has to drag me to do what I have to do. But I thank Him for dragging me along. He’s very patient.
An “icon of orthodoxy”, a priest held up as a savior of the Catholic Church in America, once rationalized to me the “abortion pill” that he directed to be dispensed by Catholic medical institutions in his diocese. This priest overseeing the murder of children said that these just conceived babies are so small that no one will know and so who cares anyway? Yep.
This is the same rationalization that people use in getting the “vaccines” for Covid: the babies murdered for research, development and testing are helpless to complain because, you know, they were murdered a while back, so it’s over.
I’ll tell you this: those murdered kids will be fully adult and standing next to Jesus at the judgment, and will accuse those who thought that murdering the image of God was a good thing. Such people weren’t counting on the fact of eternity, of heaven or hell, on being judged by the very ones whom they murdered.
Go to Confession!
- “Father George, you don’t understand! Pope Francis got the vaccine and wants everyone to get the vaccine and has directed his pro-abort comrades to rationalize getting the vaccine! You’re wrong, Father George! Abortion is a virtue! Killing children is how we get to heaven! It is the very worship of God!”
Jesus said that there will come a time when those who murder us will consider this persecution an act of worship. Just because Pope Francis in a non-infallible manner encourages people to get abortion-wrought “vaccines” doesn’t mean that it is good. You’ll remember that Pope Francis promotes the idol worship of Pachamama to which demonic idol people are sacrificed. Does that mean that idol worship of demons is good. No, it doesn’t. Don’t think that Jesus will accept any such excuse at the judgment: “The devil made me do it!” No, you chose to murder.
Go to Confession!
The so called vaccines use babies for research, development and testing. It is a mortal sin to get such “vaccines.” There are those who agree with that analysis, but only for those who first purposed the murder of babies for this end, saying that those who follow later, who benefit very directly, who receive the vaccines, are guilty of a lesser sin. But that’s like saying that a murder that was calculated for a couple of years is less of a sin than a murder calculated for fifty years. Both are gravely sinful. Both will get you into hell. Maybe one hell is deeper than another, but it is all hell. Is that where both the perps and rationalizers want to go, congratulating themselves on being ever so arrogantly clever with such sophistication in their political correctness… for all eternity?
One who chooses to benefit from such murder is also guilty. Rationalizations don’t work:
- I had to do it to keep my job.
- So, you want to go to hell for all eternity? Go then.
- I had to do it to protect others, like granny.
- If you murdered the baby in front of granny I bet she would rather die than you murder that baby and then go to hell yourself. Getting a “case” of Covid does not at all mean that death by Covid follows. Not. At. All.
- I had to do it to protect myself.
- You are only preparing an eternity of hell your yourself. Is it worth it?
All rationalizations are cheap cynicism, shaking one’s fist at God. That rationalization is used for all other sins, and I bet you it has been used by such people all their lives. They let their consciences be destroyed. They are entrenching for a lifetime of rationalizing. Such cynicism, rejoicing in the “power” one has to murder helpless babies, is raging hatred against God and neighbor, all while congratulating oneself as being “nice.”
It seems to me that I have seen the fire of Satan – for the briefest nanosecond – in the eyes of those who defend their decision to go ahead and get the “vaccine:” “Kill the babies! I have power!”
How to repent of getting the “vaccine”:
- Repent of having done this, making an act of contrition, at least an imperfect act of contrition, fearing the loss of heaven and the pains of hell.
- Make a firm purpose of amendment, so that one is promising to God not to get any such “vaccines” in future, no booster shots, no supplemental shots.
- Go to Confession! Do your penance.
- Rejoice that our Lord is good and kind even to such a murderous lot as ourselves, and rededicate yourself to bringing others to Jesus.
By the way, if you haven’t gotten the vaccine and are planning to get it while planning to go to Confession afterward, know that this is a presumption against the Holy Spirit who was sent amongst us for the forgiveness of sins. It is a sin to say that we can go ahead and sin expecting that God doesn’t care about sin. God knows all about such sin. So does the Immaculate Virgin Mother of God. Don’t do it.
Adoration on Good Shepherd Sunday. The Sheep saved from wolves thank Jesus. He alone is the Good Shepherd.
We now have the “anchor” up where the Tabernacle will be. Slow but sure.
Soon, Monday, what’s on the Gospel side will switch with what’s on the Epistle side. Altar boys will be on the Epistle side and the priest will be on the Gospel side. This is to respect the ad orientem rubrics of the Novus Ordo, right?
As a knucklehead donkey priest, I am happy to get myself out of the way of Jesus so that the emphasis is on Him, so that people are clear that they are at Holy Mass for the Holy Sacrifice, for the risen Jesus who brings us up into His Sacrifice. Finally. Took me long enough. But prayers are bringing even me to point to Jesus.
Jesus is the One. He’s the only One.