Fr George, how do you listen to others?

There’s a preliminary question: How does Jesus listen to me?

  • Father George: “I am a sinner. Teach me how to be repentant.”
  • Jesus: “If you love me, keep the commandments.”
  • Father George: “I am sorry for my sins. Please, forgive me. Keep me close to you.”
  • Jesus: “I forgive you.”

  • The entitled: “But Father George! Father George! You’re not listening! That’s not what we mean at all! Your listening is to be about us changing the doctrine and morality of the Church because we’re entitled to change the Church into our own image! If you don’t agree with out entitlement, you’re just not listening closely enough! Listen up, Father George!”
  • Father George: “Just place your finger into the nail-prints in Jesus’ hands, and your hand into His side, into His Heart. Listen to His Heart beating even while pierced through.”

I remember a conversation with The String Puller For All® in which I insisted on Jesus crucified being important. His reply was this: “The crucifixion of Jesus demonstrated that He was a failure.”

He didn’t get that this was the victory, as demonstrated by the Soldier who did hear what that Heart sounded like when he rammed his sword into the side of Jesus. And having listened, he said: “Truly this was the Son of God.”

Are we listening to the witness of that soldier? Are we listening to the Word of God Incarnate?

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Hundreds of miles, 5 hours in Sheriff’s Office

So, that was one of the many posters hung in the lengthy corridor of that out-of-state Sheriff’s Department, where I spent five hours yesterday morning. That’s been the fourth time in as many months. It’s over now. Certificates of training and class pictures were taken. More encouragement for common sense ICPC law enforcement chaplaincy and some networking is what this all amounted to… Great! After publishing that early post yesterday on guardian angels and the vax, another was scheduled to be put up while I was gone, the Sankt Gallen post. That’s how that works.

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Sankt Gallen?! Run, Father George, run!

There’s much verbiage these days about Sankt Gallen, Switzerland, that is, about the members of the group named after that mountain village. Memories are jogged. Hence, me writing this post trying to figure out any connections I was perhaps being brought to have… For such things I think best through my keyboard, an autism thing. Apologies for this soliloquy. My heart stopping naïveté back in the day was surely the driving engine of my baiting baiters to clarify their meta-motivations reaching into dark power. I hate my own naïveté. Counter-baiting has become familiar. There’s more deadly intrigue to interreligious… synodality… than I at first thought.

The above picture is not in Sankt Gallen, Switzerland, but it is more Sankt Gallen than Sankt Gallen could ever dream of being. What is pictured above is in extraterritorial property of the Holy See in the Trastevere district of Rome, Italy. But I’m talking some years ago. I have no idea what’s going on now. But back in the day… And yet, while I’ve written of some of this quite extensively elsewhere, I still was not making connections. Those happen only as years and decades wear on and on. Some further connections were made in my little brain in these last weeks.

As it is, I’ve spent waaay tooo much time on the upper floor of this, what I call the Pentagon of the Holy See, enough time spent on that upper floor, in fact, to be recruited (in the opposite direction) by a merely near-the-top-official of the Guardia di Finanza… of Italy… to spy for him on the Cardinals right around that upper floor, but not so much on mere financial matters (he had all that in hand, a source of humor to him), but he instead wanted more on all that which might be used to extort the Princes of the Church into being clownish puppets of certain political agendas, not that some of them weren’t already all of that and more. And I’m sure he knew that. When you recruit a spy, the first assignment you give is a setup. You already know what is to be discovered, and you compare your notes with what that spy reports back to you. Everyone thinks they are more clever than the next guy but finally they should come to the realization that both “sides”, if you will, have been acting for the same String Puller a further level up, or many levels up, and common to both “sides.” But, I never did up the spy thing. Not my wheel-house. Not my thing.

My real “assignment”, if you will, came not from any Italian law enforcement bureaucrat, but from a third-party friend in – um… – rather high places in the Holy See. The assignment, the logistics of which he personally arranged, was simply to attain an understanding of “how things work.” Period. Just for my knowledge. That would be enough, for now. Fine.

But times change. What was then a source of scandal and betrayal of the Church – such as any homosexualist mafia – that which cries out to heaven for vengeance, fodder for extortionist blackmail, is now held to be clever and sophisticated, giving perps bragging rites, whether priests, bishops, cardinals. Very smart, all that.

Just when you congratulate yourself on lacking in naïveté, that’s when you’re proven oh so wrong. There is always more evil.

Cardinal Achille Silvestrini had an apartment on that top floor. Never met him except perhaps in passing, surely at those Masses in Saint Peter’s Basilica when those in red sit in a semi-circle in front of the Papal Altar. But I was brought to the door of his apartment plenty of times on that upper floor mentioned above by The String Puller For All® whilst we paced about the porch of that contorted “Pentagon,” that String Puller For All®, mind you, being one of many Cardinals who also lived on that upper floor. He’s not considered to be part of the Sankt Gallen mafia (although I should get that recent book to see if there’s an index of names). But, just to say, no String Puller is ever so extremely public.

Anyway, the String Puller For All® discussed with me just there, at Silvestrini’s rather remarkable, Hobbit-esque entrance into his apartment, cluttered with nailed up Hobbit-esque art-work… we discussed Silvestrini’s viability in geo-politically entrenched affairs, he having been tasked with all things Oriental. Very soon after such discussions, Silvestrini was inducted into the Sankt Gallen mafia rather more incisively. But don’t blame me for that. I said nary a word. The String Puller For All® was simply wanting me to study up on Silvestrini’s efforts with all things Oriental. And only now, decades later, do I see other extremely close connections with the String Puller For All®, with Silvestrini, with others that String Puller named to me, all of them close friends and associates on any number of levels all at the very top of their game in the Holy See.

It was also at this time that the same String Puller For All® arranged that I do a favor for Cardinal Carlo Maria Martini, at the time, Archbishop of Milan. Martini did not live on that upper floor, of course, as he was a Jesuit, and had other residences in which to stay while in Rome.

Without my knowledge, some skill sets of yours truly were offered by the String Puller For All® to Martini, who apparently needed a last-second priest to give a spiritual retreat to a group of his Ambrosian priests. The retreat took place halfway up the eastern shore of Lago Maggiore north of Milan, in the Italian Alps. The String Puller For All® lent me his Vatican provided car, of course. Sankt Gallen was only a few hours drive though the chocolate district of Switzerland (and I did also make that chocolate tour later with that String Puller For All® on another trip, though stopping short of Sankt Gallen with a sudden and emoted change of mind, quite stunning really, as if he remembered who might inconveniently be there just then). I remember it like it happened just an hour ago. Stunning.

Anyway, the retreatants included Martini’s Top Dog (as it were, an intense and skeptical man, given to analysis of persons), as well as a number of Martini’s priests openly presenting themselves as severely troubled in their vocations, to the point of leaving the priesthood, and the rest of whom had turned into mindless embodiments of whatever heresies of the day, those heresies being espoused, mind you, if I remember correctly, by Martini himself. These heresies were put out as open challenges to me during the retreat conferences from the get-go, meaning that the planned conferences never really took place. The retreat was about taking such priests with their apparently impromptu challenges to the feet of Jesus in such manner that they couldn’t answer except to place their fingers into the nail-wounds of Jesus and their hands into His side. They were speechless at perhaps meeting Jesus in this way for the first time, you know, Jesus instead of ideology. My discussions with the Top Dog, both publicly and privately (not spiritual direction), were more like interrogations that he made of me on behalf of the Cardinal. I think the answering-with-Jesus-retreat mystified him, befuddled that a student of the Jesuit’s highest academic institution, the Pontifical Biblical Institute, and sent by The String Puller For All®, himself an alumnus of the PBI, as was Cardinal Martini, could and would do such a thing. Was I just not revealing my true self? I thought I was clear, but with these guys… Yet, I think a couple of them were shaken up by our Lord Jesus, which was quite the consolation for me.

At this time there was another incident, if you will, involving Martini and what could only be the Sankt Gallen group, but maybe not. 99.99%. Martini, The String Puller For All®, and myself we’re all friends in the sense that although I had never personally met Martini, we were both close friends of The String Puller For All®. I mean, I might have possibly met Martini in passing at the Biblicum or at a Papal Mass of some kind. But here’s the deal: I was approached by a doctoral candidate in the caves of the library of said Jesuit Institute and after my identity was confirmed, I was told that I was being asked to do up a translation of an article of Martini into English. Easy peasy, thought I. But strange. So, I played this for some weeks without giving an answer, giving excuses about deadlines and obligations. Martini has a thousand translators at his fingertips in his largest of all archdioceses, and translators among the Jesuits, among past students, in his massive chancery bureaucracy. His literary output made him his own publishing empire. He was continuously being translated into numerous languages including English as publishing houses tried to glom on to the fame of this most papabile Cardinal. So, why me?

The Biblicum guy was getting impatient with my delaying tactics and he would ask me about it. Each time I was able to bait out a little more information, or lack thereof. For instance, I discovered that it was very specifically myself that was requested to do this translation, and that those asking were members of a special group, all of whom remained nameless including their group. Finally I read the article over because it was getting to be all too weird. Oh my. This was a test about myself and surely had nothing to do with getting someone competent to do a simple translation. It was the most outrageous and concise collection of heresy that the Cardinal had ever put in one place, all very clever, but really, he just laid it out for all to see. Would I do it? That would say a lot about me. No, I wouldn’t do it. The guy freaked out though trying to keep polite composure: I had to do it. Um… No. But why? I remained ambiguous. I didn’t tell him that I couldn’t participate with such heresy, a conscience-thing for me, because I wanted to see what the repercussions would be for refusing, you know, without necessarily having torched any bridges. I remained an enigma. And I was still friends with The String Puller For All®.

Meanwhile, my highly placed friend of many decades informed me a number of times that I was starting to be “feared” around Rome. This surprised me, though it was inevitable. The degrees and the “friends” I had – in all my naïveté – were the basis of this. The highest figures in the Secretariat of State and various dicasteries were, incredibly – with me never having met them – defending me if there was ever any criticism leveled against me at whatever high-level meetings, as was reported to me on a regular basis by the String Puller For All®. It has now become clear to me that I was to be brought into the Congregation for […], and now that I see what has happened in […], I am… so very happy to be in this tiny parish in Appalachia.

Just a few months before the abdication[?] of Pope Benedict XVI, Cardinal Martini died. A few years previously he had detailed the voting of the 2005 Conclave with far-distant group, so remote that he perhaps thought this was “safe.” Instead, one of that group provided me with the details of that Conclave and how it is that Martini had informed them of all this. Frightening. A year and some later, The String Puller For All® died. So many, gone.

But there are many remaining in the above narrative line who are still alive and at the top of their game. One is at the very top who is at the very top of his game. I’ve erased much of this post. I have to let some connections that I’ve only now seen sink in a bit more.

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To vax or not? Guardian angel smacks down friend. Better listen up, you priests and bishops.

/// An out-of-country friend sent in a couple of emails, slightly edited to remove identifying details.///

Dear Father George

A few months back, I had no intent to go weed the garden. I was feeling somewhat in the dumps about a particular matter, and was sitting on my butt ruminating over it, to no good purpose. Suddenly, I needed to go out and weed along the edging of our back gardens.

I had a kneeler and would weed a few feet, move the kneeler and repeat. As I moved along I became more distraught, and by the time I was near our gazebo I was tearful. As I got to the weeds by the gazebo, I was overcome by seeing the scene of me weeping in there after my daughter told me she had aborted our grandchild, over […] years ago. That day I saw my deceased grandson and wept for him, and for my daughter.

As of the then current moment, I had the answer. The question in my mind was about whether I would get the vaccine. As pressures have mounted I have thought from time to time that I should go. But, each time I thought I would, I became nauseous and decided not to. I don’t need to phone a friend, because the Creator of the universe already spoke to me. My final answer is emphatically NO.

All of the current vaccines use aborted fetal cells, either through the whole process, as in the J&J and Pfizer vaxes, or for testing as in the others.

I know what the Pope has said, and also what our local Bishop is currently saying, and though I greatly respect them both, I cannot do what they recommend. In fact, my down moments at the time were because my Bishop was recommending vaccines for us all.

Many of the vaccines use replicated fetal tissue from a little aborted boy in the Netherlands, in the 1970s, called for their purposes HEK293. This means that this was the 293rd fetus that died and was tested on, for Human Embryonic Kidney tissue. It may surprise you to know that tissue from dead babies is useless, and that it has to be extracted prior to their death.

God Bless You. ///

Here is the rest of the story.

So, after the experience in my note, I was very clear on where I stood, and have not wavered. Soon after, our pastor was attending our Zoom prayer meeting, for our Holy Spirit prayer group. A parishioner [… said…] that the vaccines were not to be taken. […] Our pastor was in a quandary as to what to advise […], as our bishop has been very pro vax, and has since required that all priests/deacons/staff/volunteers be jabbed. Most in our prayer group are vaxxed. […] of us have refused.

I shared the story I posted on your latest article [Compare contrast: conform Church to cosmos, vice versa], and was in tears as I shared it. A week later, our pastor posted a letter from one of the Bishop’s toadies saying the Pope says it’s ok, the Bishop says it’s ok. Get the jab!

That’s part of the rest of the story. Please give my regards to Father Gordon. I continue to follow you both. God Bless You.

================

My comment: Yes. Guardian Angels are our best friends, doing whatever it takes, doing the necessary, to get us to listen up. Great! We will be literally eternally grateful for the smack downs we all receive.

This is frightening: You want to know how bad things are? Re-read that post as if for the first time: Compare contrast: conform Church to cosmos, vice versa. But this time, read it knowing the result, basically that the pastor and one of the bishop’s toadies, citing the bishop and Pope Francis, went out to buy machetes, as it were, in analogy, for their encouragement to vax is just that deadly, and they do it in view of the whole truth of the matter. Now I want to vomit.

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Compare contrast: conform Church to cosmos, vice versa

So, I’m not going to use pictures of procured abortion. But you know what that looks like:

  • “But Father George! Father George! That’s not fair! You’re comparing Jesus dying to “embryos” removed in sterile pharmaceutical laboratories where, like, their organs are removed for really cool research, development, testing of “vaccines” for our own benefit. The least of the brethren surely agree that it’s all good.”

Any priest or (arch)bishop who says it’s good to directly murder the least of the brethren is also saying that it would be good to walk up to Mary and Elizabeth with a machete and remove John and Jesus, murdering them for our own benefit. Wow. Caiaphas!

  • “But Father George! Father George! You’re just one of those priest-bloggers who think they know better than the Magisterium!”

Here’s the deal: a priest just the other day said this:

  • “Whatever it is that authorities tell us to do is on them. We don’t have to discern anything. We can just obey. At the judgment, God will sort it out. We’re not responsible.”

Interesting, that. While people say that conscience is paramount, they immediately add that we are too stupid to have a conscience and that “authorities” can just tell us what to do with no reference to Scripture, Tradition, and the interventions of the Supreme Magisterium throughout the centuries.

Tell you what: I want my conscience formed by Sacred Scripture, Sacred Tradition, the interventions of the Supreme Magisterium throughout the centuries, those matters… quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est – which everywhere, always and by everyone is believed.

That which is rejected by my well-formed conscience is Pachamama being some sort of god, the Traditional Latin Mass being invalid, the murder of babies for “vaccines”, on and on and on and on and on… And it doesn’t matter if the “authority” is a priest, a(n) (arch)bishop, or the Pope. No one has spoken infallibly. I stand with Scripture, Tradition, the interventions of the Supreme Magisterium. By the way, any old execration of Pope Francis or some worker in the Holy See is not infallible. That that has to be said tells you something about the times we live in.

  • They say: “Blah-Blah-Blah!”
  • I say: “I think I heard you say Blah-Blah-Blah. Is that correct?”
  • They say: “Blah-Blah-Blah is necessary.”
  • I say: “There is only one Word necessary, the Incarnate Word, Jesus, the Word you want dead, silenced, never to speak, and to the point, never, then, to pass judgment on your sorry selves. Go to Confession: call for the Mercy of… Jesus.”

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Forget Jesus! It’s Blah Blah Time for The Blah Blah Synod™ (Humor)

There are endless Blah Blah memes on the internet. I love it. Hahahahaha.

In this sample, someone has been blah-blah-ing, all of which is entirely out-of-hand dismissed by summing up all that blah-blah-ing by asking if it were all mere blah-blah-ing… which is unanswerable, as it would involve hyper-blah-blah-ing… Bwahahahahahahaha

Anyone with a spiritual life can pierce through the obscurantist blah-blah-ing of self-canonizing heroes of sacrosanct fake-condescension altruistic bigly “listening” by simply humbly thanking Jesus for the pardon of their own sins and rejoicing that Jesus is the Absolute Truth, the Living Truth, the Unmanipulatable Truth, Jesus, Truth Incarnate, ever ancient, ever new, who still bears the wounds of His standing in our place, the Innocent for the guilty.

Those wounds of Jesus are the result of His listening to us. The wounds… Did you forget the wounds of Jesus, (arch)bishops? When did you do that? With rationalizing, accompanying sin? Yep. That’s exactly when you cast Jesus off to the side.

It’s clear to anyone with any humility that Jesus is not to be thrown off to the side so as to pretend He’s not there, so as to put the emphasis on rationalizing any and all sin on the basis of being heroes of such disgusting arrogant condescension of manipulative so-called “listening.” It’s easy to see that these “listeners” are attempting to take the place of Jesus: they are the saviors.

The only ones blah-blahing in this way are those listening… you know… to themselves going blah-blah. It’s like Soros-esque blah-blah-ers are making noise for those who are pretending to listen, but are also Soros-esque recipients, happy to be fake-saviors. And they’re all the same age as James Martin. Interesting, that. It’s all manipulative listening, which is not listening at all.

The extreme-vast majority of priests and bishops set this up by rejecting the Church’s teaching against contraception and abortion and infanticide and euthanasia. So many have been gay-ing and trans-ing the young, permitting extreme porn “sex-education” in their parochial schools (to the point of having field trips to abortion clinics to show them where they can go for “help”).

And those young people have been speaking, loud and clear, you know, their corpses six-feet-underground, dead, but loud and clear in their suicide, having been way over-sexualized, and feeling themselves to be trash. They’re sick of it, all that blah-blah-blah, empty, vacuous, death-mongering blah-blah. Youngsters want Jesus, not blah-blah-blah.

What young people want to hear about is some hope that they can be temples of the Holy Spirit, that they can be chaste bearers of the life of the Most Holy Trinity within their souls, that they can have great joy in the midst of trials because God’s love is stronger than our darkness, stronger that our temptations, stronger than our feeling distant from God, stronger than any suffering of aggression, stronger than any sickness and death, strong enough to get us to heaven right through all those things: Jesus has conquered, we can be with Him: He wants us to be with Him. He loves us.

Of course we listen to people, but not to empower their hopelessness, not to rationalize their sin for them, but rather to say, Jesus, ever ancient, ever new, is the answer, but an answer, mind you, which makes it manifest that we have the wrong questions, which is not off-putting, but rather entirely enthralling: Finally, someone taking us seriously. The legit questions are not about how to sin and still please God, or how to get accompanied in sin so as surely to please God… – Pfft! – but rather the legit questions are how can we best assent to the work of Jesus lifting us up out of our quagmire… how can we best go along with the grace of Jesus saving us from ourselves… how we can best live the fullness of life… how can we best be on our way to heaven even while we still bear the weaknesses of original sin and whatever of our own rubbish… how we can love God in spirit and in truth…

  • “But Father George! Father George! That’s NOT listening! That’s teaching! That’s leading to Jesus! That’s not allowed! It’s a process! Get with the methodology! It’s called dialectical materialism at this stage of the thesis-antithesis dynamic! You stupid priest! We aging hippies are smart you know. We were educated at like Woodstock and stuff like that, so, so… there!”

So, this priest is not busy with blah-blahing. This priest is busy with getting food for my parishioners, real food and spiritual food. And Jesus is still the Bread of Life, Pachamama is not any kind of god, the TLM is still valid and licit, sex outside of marriage is still a mortal sin, absolution is to be given only to those who are repentant, etc. I don’t care what the blah-blah-ers say. Jesus saved me from being a blah-blah-er. I hope to thank Him by not being a blah-blah-er. I hope to repeat with Saint Paul:

  • “When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or wisdom [viz., blah-blah] as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God, for I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified” (1 Cor 2:1-2). :-)

Or, wait… what? Let’s review…

  • “Father George! Father George! We want to dialogue about our desires for desecrating the Most Blessed Sacrament! And you have to listen to us because Pope Francis and the USCCB said so. You must give Holy Communion to pro-abort Joe Biden, and so, like, haha!”
    • Father George: “I think I heard you say Blah-Blah-Blah. Is that correct?”
  • “Father George! Father George! We want to dialogue about our cozy feelings of funding the Catholic Campaign for Human Development and Catholic Relief Services. And we require you to cooperate formally in abortion activities in this way. Listen to us! Accompany us! You are obliged to listen to us! It’s the law!”
    • Father George: “I think I heard you say Blah-Blah-Blah. Is that correct?”
  • “Father George! Father George! Listen! Stop going on Communion Calls. Let laypeople do the Last Rites. As for you, we want you to spend all your time listening to us about how the Church is to be conformed to what you call a fallen world! And for Pachamama’s sake, stop hearing sacramental Confessions! How dare you! How dare you! HOW DARE YOU! The more time you spend with Jesus and what you dare to call Jesus’ Little Flock is less time with us, we who are brave enough to do a great reset with all religion. It’s all about us. We’re the ones. We’re the only ones! The first step is to make ministers irrelevant by obliging them to blah-blah with us.”
    • Father George: “I think I heard you say Blah-Blah-Blah. Is that correct?”

You get the idea. ;-)

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Facing off with the dragon once again

Those of you who have ever fought The Dragon and merely avoided getting swatted by the not so infrequently Tail of the Dragon will recognize this overlook high above the Calderwood Hydroelectric Dam. Sassy the Subaru’s tires (even the new stick-to-the-road more expensive tires) were singing on the curves in the height of leaf-lurker season. Spectacular.

This was on my late-afternoon-into-the-evening return on the 5-hour round trip to do up the Last Rites for a parishioner in an out-of-state hospital, not a rarity as the chopper service bringing patients from our tiny hospitals to larger campuses (always out-of-state) seems as busy as the M*A*S*H choppers back in the day. This was the day after the epic-day-off trips to hospitals. There was time for chaplets of all sorts and very many rosaries. Apologies to the Breviary, but I had to put that on an electronic voice read-out while battling The Dragon, permitted, well, tolerated… :-)

Hopefully today will be a slightly slower day, though crossing The Mountain, perhaps using the Trail of Tears, another Dragon and much more dangerous, is once again is again on the schedule. All of this travel is great for Rosaries being said. I love it. And right now it’s so very, very beautiful. I’m continuously thanking Jesus through whom all things were made, as the Prologue of John’s Gospel, what’s called the “Last Gospel”, itself parallel with “The First Gospel”, the Proto-Evangelium (Gen 3:15), makes clear. Jesus, ever Ancient, ever New.

Meanwhile, during these last weeks I’ve been writing a post about another Dragon’s lair in Sankt Gallen, and my time in Rome. As I say, I think best through my keyboard when details are important. Threads appear in writing that I only noticed in a cursory manner previously. Looking up cvs of names was stunning. I’m seriously too stupid to do the obvious – Google – even for years, decades. But then I do, finally, as in these recent weeks, and… oh my… It’s like a ton of bricks falling on one’s head… or like facing off with a fire-breathing dragon.

Whiskey, Tango, and you know the “old meanie” nickname which Jesus Himself gave to Herod.

I really got to think about whether or not to give it another big edit and publishing it. Many are dead. But many are at the top of their game right now as Sankt Gallen’s prestidigitations come to fruition with the fire-breathing Blah Blah Synod™. I don’t want to drag the innocent down with the guilty. But the smoke of the dragon is to be seen coming in through the open windows through which we hear a lot of blah blah blah. There are dragons and there are dragons.

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Roots of the Blah Blah Synod™ – Humor! Memes of Blah Blah Blah amongst the young. Great!

With Cardinal Bernadine’s Common Ground Blah Blah Blah, all doctrine and all morality was thrown up for “dialogue”. All the marxists came out to discuss perverted sex. Pretty much that’s it. I lived through that excrement era. Now it’s back. Blah blah blah.

Then a marxist catechist guy perverted all the faith formation in Australia. For instance, just ask second graders what they think about the white thing instead of teaching them about Holy Communion and Jesus present Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity as brought to us at the Holy Sacrificed of the Mass. No, no. Just encourage stories about cookies and birthday parties with cookies and offer no correction but only affirmation. Yes, that’s it, just a cookie thing. You know, the thing! And that was brought to America. Blah blah blah.

But we already had programs for parish renewal that had nothing to do with Jesus and the Sacraments, but only about throwing all doctrine and morality to the winds. Whaddayou think? No direction, no instruction, no encouragement. Just everyone falling away from the Church. That’s the point. Blah blah blah.

Already in about every diocese priests were forced to go to conferences, but then, instead of any great presentation, we had to break into small groups at which strategic liberal bully priests would lead the discussion and then report back in democratic fashion to all assembled, only that the liberal bully priest would loudly talk over everyone and not report back any of the contributions buy only what was the destruction of all doctrine and morality. Blah blah blah.

Blah blah blah blah blah blah blobidiblahblahblahblahblah…

It’s like a meme about the mindless puppets of ever more blah blah blah. When I saw the great music video below and how sick young people are of the blah blah blah of the marxist ideologues in society and amonst some marxist individuals in the Church, and when I thought of how the same young people cry out “Let’s go Brandon! F*** Joe Biden!”… well, that’s when I laughed out loud. The exemplars of blah blah blah that I’ve known in my life are all modernist religious sisters with no habit but who reject all the teaching and morality of the Church whose names are all Sister Butch. But they skip the “sister” part now. All they do is blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

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Blah Blah Synod™ coming to your parish

Yeah, sure, like I got plenty of time as a priest to throw all doctrine and morality to the winds so as to open up a lot of blah blah blah dialectical materialism propaganda promoting the denial of the validity of the Traditional Latin Mass, the viability of demon idol worship, the protection of same sex unions for their precious styles of mortal-sin-orgasm, the desecration of the Blessed Sacrament thrown to the pigs, fake-non-repentance-absolutions, etc., etc., etc. Yeah, sure I have time for that… … NO! I don’t have time for words structured to profane the Eternal and Living Word of our Heavenly Father.

Did you notice? The Living Truth, Jesus, has no place in all this blah blah blah. None.

Meanwhile, yesterday, I found out more about what the USCCB wants of us priests regarding this heresy of blah blah blah, that is, the Synod on Synodality. Pages and pages of blah blah blah all about blah blah blah.

It wasn’t a good time for me to get that in my inbox. No siree. I was up at 1:00 AM to do chores, offer Holy Mass up at church, then take a parishioner to a Veterans Administration hospital hours away, a whole day on my as-always-epic-day-off. Getting back just at nightfall, just trying to finish the Breviary before conking out… riiiiiiiing… riiiiiing…. “[name] is in the ICU, Father.” “I’m on my way.” That was in the neighboring town 15 miles away one way. Last rites. I was destroyed by the time I got back, but really happy as a priest. This is what I live for. Totally. I love it. I did get a bit upset though… thinking on the way back about all the blah blah blah that those ecclesiastics are dreaming up for priests who are actually busy with the Lord’s Little Flock. But… blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. That’s it from them. How I would like to reprimand them, like, out loud for God and the world to witness, as a kind of vengeance for the souls of the Lord’s Little Flock.

Just then, while driving on the dark back road past Vengeance Creek (a real place), I just up and laughed out loud all alone in my car – except for my guardian angel – laughing out loud kind of like this:

Image result for gifs three men laughing

The cause of the laughter? It’s because of a Jesuit, actually, you know, way back in the day, who came to mind, surely the work of my guardian angel:

From the letters to Saint Ignatius by Saint Francis Xavier, priest
(E Vita Francisci Xaverii, auctore H. Tursellini, Romae, 1956, Lib. 4, epist. 4 [1542] et 5 [1544])

Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel

  • “We have visited the villages of the new converts who accepted the Christian religion a few years ago. No Portuguese live here—the country is so utterly barren and poor. The native Christians have no priests. They know only that they are Christians. There is nobody to say Mass for them; nobody to teach them the Creed, the Our Father, the Hail Mary and the Commandments of God’s Law. I have not stopped since the day I arrived. I conscientiously made the rounds of the villages. I bathed in the sacred waters all the children who had not yet been baptized. This means that I have purified a very large number of children so young that, as the saying goes, they could not tell their right hand from their left. The older children would not let me say my Office or eat or sleep until I taught them one prayer or another. Then I began to understand: The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. I could not refuse so devout a request without failing in devotion myself. I taught them, first the confession of faith in the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, then the Apostles’ Creed, the Our Father and Hail Mary. I noticed among them persons of great intelligence. If only someone could educate them in the Christian way of life, I have no doubt that they would make excellent Christians. Many, many people hereabouts are not becoming Christians for one reason only: there is nobody to make them Christians. Again and again I have thought of going round the universities of Europe, especially Paris, and everywhere crying out like a madman, riveting the attention of those with more learning than charity: “What a tragedy: how many souls are being shut out of heaven and falling into hell, thanks to you!” I wish they would work as hard at this as they do at their books, and so settle their account with God for their learning and the talents entrusted to them. This thought would certainly stir most of them to meditate on spiritual realities, to listen actively to what God is saying to them. They would forget their own desires, their human affairs, and give themselves over entirely to God’s will and his choice. They would cry out with all their heart: Lord, I am here! What do you want me to do? Send me anywhere you like—even to India.”

Hahaha. I love the saints. But instead, we have the The Heresy of Blah Blah Blah™. I’m sick of it. I don’t have time for it. I think good old Saint Francis Xavier would’ve about taken the head off any priest or bishop who would instead tell him that he should be concerned about blah blah blah blah blah, and not concerned about Jesus and the sacraments. Lemme tell you. People know all about blah blah blah. That’s all they get. From their priests they want Jesus and the Sacraments, no blah blah.

And if anyone thinks this is disrespectful of The Blah Blah Synod™, know this, I’ll have a reprimand for you along the lines of Saint Francis Xavier. After all, the saints are not to be heroes that we put on a pedestal and say they’re great and I’m great for saying they’re great. That would get us condemned by Jesus for building the tombs of the prophets while we kill the prophets in this way, giving ourselves a license to kill.

Instead, the saints are to be invoked that we might strive to follow their example whatever the cost to ourselves.

Will I get in trouble with, say, the USCCB or the Holy See for saying the Synod on Synodality is the Heresy of Blah Blah Blah™? Maybe. Just more blah blah blah.

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Filed under Humor, Pope Francis, The Blah Blah Synod™

Flowers for the Immaculate Conception (Even in winter, edition)

We had one freeze, 27F for just an hour after sunrise. That was enough to kill all the kudzu, which makes me think that if someone had a directional freeze machine that could be put on a semi-trailer and dragged around the roads of WNC every couple of weeks, that would solve a lot of difficulties for the road crews fighting the kudzu from making roads unpassable. Wishful thinking, right?

Meanwhile, yesterday temps were in the mid 70s. The sun even felt hot. But that’s relative to the 27 degrees hours before, not to the temps of high 90s some months ago. We can get used to anything, right?

But no one will ever get used to hell. Every moment will be hell, forever. And ever. Dante depicted a sign over the gates of hell: “Abandon hope all ye who enter here.”

For that matter, no one will ever get used to the paradise that is heaven, whose ardent charity is ever ancient, ever new, full of life, life who is God. Dante might well have spoken of a sign over the gates of heaven: “Abandon hope all ye who enter here.” Heaven is hopeless; there is no hope in heaven because one has attained one’s hope, though the fulfillment of that hope… well… we will never get used to it! Thank you Jesus, thank you, Mary. A flower for Mary, then, created by Jesus.

The flowers at the top flourish when it gets cold. For a while. Then, with an insistent winter, they are gone as well. The fierce color of the trees in the face of cold – as if trying to heat up the atmosphere – last for a much shorter time even than that. Then they drop.

  • “So when you see standing in the holy place ‘the abomination of desolation,’ described by the prophet Daniel (let the reader understand), then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains. Let no one on the housetop come down to retrieve anything from his house. And let no one in the field return for his cloak. How miserable those days will be for pregnant and nursing mothers! Pray that your flight will not occur in the winter or on the Sabbath. For at that time there will be great tribulation, unmatched from the beginning of the world until now, and never to be seen again. If those days had not been cut short, nobody would be saved. But for the sake of the elect, those days will be cut short.” (Mt 24:15-22)

So, at least a shorter “winter” if it happens in winter. Mind you, there are many kinds of winters, including those which are used in analogies. Such is the case here. In context, there are 3.5 years +45 days. There are three winters in the time allotted for the worst persecution ever.

There is a “winter” of true shepherds in the Church. There is hardly a one who is happy to teach clear doctrine, clear morality. This is the worst persecution of all. Genocides are merely a symptom of the death of the souls of those bringing about a bloody persecution, the actuators of any physical deaths in the hundreds of millions. But the deaths of the souls that bring about the persecution itself, who set up the conditions for it, are the fake shepherds in the Church, those who commit the heresy of blah, blah, blah. More on that later. But know this: they are more deadly for eternal souls than all other mere sinners put together. And these fake shepherds are now legion, to use a term from the Gospels, and a “winter” is upon is, “The Winter” is upon us. But still pray. Pray all the more. And, as always, the best advice to all, especially to the fake shepherds: Go to Confession!

Today, early this morning, I got this together…

So, I say, give a flower to the Immaculate Conception. Can you do that? No, really. While you can. Winter is setting in. Actually do that. No, really! Go outside, pick a flower, put it in a vase of sorts. Put it in front of a statue or image of dearest Mary. She already saw all the hell to come beholding her Son on the Cross. And, because of that, say “Thank you, Mary. Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.”

  • “But Father George! Father George! You don’t understand! Winter is upon us! There are no flowers! I refuse even to look!”

Do we have to call to mind the flowers of winter brought by Juan Diego from our Lady to the bishop?

Do we have to be reminded of the flowers of winter brought by Bernadette from our Lady to the bishop?

After weeks of 24/7 freezing temps with thick ice in Lourdes I myself took pictures of flowers of winter at the grotto, ever so delicately blasting though the thick ice. Yes.

Even in the winter of lack of faith among the shepherds of the Church, the winter of a rejection of faith and morals, there are still flowers to be had for our Lady.

  • “But Father George! Father George! There’s literally six feet of snow outside my house due to global warming! I can’t even open the door of my house!”

I get it. So, let’s see… I know! In the winter… as at any other time, get out your Rosary by which roses of Hail Marys are given to our Lady. I mean I carry two Rosaries. I tend to break Rosaries, and to have a broken Rosary is unacceptable. A backup weapon is necessary. And… and… I have two more in the car, just in case. You can never have too many Rosaries. Just make sure you say them as flowers for the Immaculate Conception. For you Mary.

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Trump on Pencil-Neck Schiff. Not so anachronistic humor.

  • “Splutter! Splutter! Splutter! Father George! You’re so mean! Priests shouldn’t be, like, mean, and stuff, like…”

So, we’ve so easily forgotten about the pullout from Afghanistan and all the dead and all the tortured and all the left-behind?

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Hey! That priest! Good for him!

That would be right. Catholic Social Services of Australia has this guy, Francis Sullivan, shoving vax needles into arms, regardless of their direct connection with abortion in research and/or development and/or testing. This layman is busy attacking a great young priest in Australia, pastor of a smallish parish in the distant outback. That priest was in some of my classes in the major seminary in which I taught. Proud of him. Great! There are great priests all around, who are not willing to compromise, who thank Jesus for coming into this world, firstly, for nine months, in the womb of the Immaculate Conception.

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Filed under Coronavirus, Free exercise of religion, Priesthood

People giving up freedom

https://youtube.com/shorts/CY6lXRvTbxY

You might have to copy that link and paste it in the URL Address Bar…

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Neo-Nazi Hunting: Patience wins.

The yellow Star of David with “Jude” written inside on a bloody, sweaty, burned scrap of camp-uniform is reminiscent of the Shoah, the Holocaust.

As long time readers know, I have reasons, on every level, for being in solidarity with the Jews.

As long time readers know, I not infrequently feature that very Star above on this blog, as I did about five weeks ago once again. I carry such things in my heart, always.

The Star has 12 sides, obviously referring to the 12 Tribes of Israel. The Star has six points to it, with the number six referring to that which is yet incomplete, which only comes with seven. Israel was looking for the Messiah yet to come. He is symbolized with the center-piece. The Star is to be found everywhere on the synagogue in Capernaum where Jesus preached, while He preached there. This is one which Jesus would have seen Himself that is carved into the rock from which the synagogue was made:

I myself do various things with that inside bit:

Sassy the Subaru sports a certain flag with a slight change to the center of the Star, a simple Cross.

Even more, I would call the Star of David instead the Star of the Son of David, with the Star being the living Ark of the Covenant, the Immaculate Mother of the Messiah. We recall the Flos Carmeli:

While the Star of David is very ancient, it is also prominent in more recent presentations of the Qabbalah, which simply refers to a received tradition. Some Jews would know much of this in the mid-20th century, in some places more than others. Some would know merely that it exists but never got into it in the least.

While you may like or dislike Kabbalistic literature (de-)contextualized from its wildly-varied lived experience in wildly varied places and times and cultures and degrees of knowledge about the same, or not, what you might know if you have the least smidgeon of sincerity in you is that not every Jew knows everything there is to know about anything Kabbalistic and therefore is not responsible as a representative of the same (prescinding from anyone’s assent to whatever myriad points about it[!]).

And then I recently got a message from someone who saw that yellow “Jude” Star of David above on my blog as people might on the open ended internet. Surprise was expressed that a Catholic priest would put up just such a Star in that particular context so as to be in solidarity with the Jews. After all, it was said, it is prominent in the Kabbalistic literature, as if that was a conclusion.

I responded that this yellow Star with “Jude” written in it was an obvious reference to the Holocaust, and that… But I was cut off. The person said that the Star belongs to the Jews. They made it up. They can own it. They all deserve everything that they get.

And that last bit was present tense with the direct context being the Shoah, the Holocaust.

I know who this person is. He knows I have Jewish heritage. This attack has been going on for years, but it was never so clear as it was just now. I’m very patient with this sort of thing. Always waiting for more clarity. Often where’s there’s smoke, there’s fire. Well, well. Things are very clear right now. And the fires are the ovens. For this guy, all Jews should be put to death because Kabbalistic literature is to be found somewhere in the world.

I am reminded of a distressing documentary of a Neo-Nazi hunter. At one point he says he thought he was going to drop dead as his heart was literally pounding out of his chest what with the entirety of the horror of the holocaust in front of him. Yep.

This is more common than one might think. I can multiply examples. I should collaborate with the Simon Wiesenthal Center.

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Filed under Jewish-Catholic dialogue, Shoah

OSHA vax mandate? Fr George will “quit” first

And that stated rebellion earns me not just a weekly $14,000.00 fine, but about $140,000.00 in fines come January 4, 2022. I have sincerely held religious objections. I have a medical exemption. I have super strong natural immunity. No one cares about that. Not being able to pay the fines, looks like jail for me. Unless one uses one’s brain.

  • “Just lie about it, Father George!”

No. I’m not going to lie. I will stand with my flock, whoever that is, wherever that person is. I’ll take the consequences. Besides, I don’t want a $10,000.00 fine and six months in prison, which is the penalty for lying. And then you’ll get the other fines anyway.

  • “Just wear a mask and get tested, Father George! Don’t be so dramatic!”

I’m not ever going to wear a mask while I pronounce the words of consecration at Holy Mass. Guaranteed. This is a big deal, actually. Other examples of breath include Jesus breathing on the apostles so that they might receive the Holy Spirit to forgive sins. Or how about the early rites of exorcism in which breathing on a subject was part of the rite?

  • “But just wear the mask to get tested, Father George! Come on, man! You know, the Thing!”

I’ll be betrayed by some self-righteous Catholic coming to one of my Masses from around the USA. Most visitors are super Catholic, but some freak out about social distancing and masks and such. One threatened to write all sorts of letter to any powers that be to complain that I breathed on the Hosts at the altar because I was standing there with no mask.

Anyway, I wonder how testing once or twice weekly is going to work out with really a lot of people all of sudden needing tests and people spending all day at testing sites. Whose not going to get fired for that?

  • “But you just can’t quit the priesthood, Father George! Don’t be a quitter! Get with the program! You’re racist if you don’t!”

I’m not asking to be “laicized” or suspended from the sacraments. God forbid! No. If the Diocese is going to comply – illegally, actually – with Joe Biden’s anti-Constitution mandate, what I will ask for is that my salary be taken away, and that whatever is considered to be part of that salary is also removed, including the right to live in a rectory, any perks like a car allowance. In effect, it would be like getting “fired” from secular employment. Meanwhile, I would still volunteer to provide the sacraments and Mass in the parish. In this way, the Diocese wouldn’t be liable for me. Here’s the fact: Joe Biden isn’t going to be president forever, right? So, I’ll financially take a hit. Big deal. I’ll keep my conscience intact. Why be a priest if I can’t keep my conscience intact.

As I write this, the Biden mandate has been “stayed” by a judge… for Texas only. Good news. But Joey couldn’t care less about the Constitution or any sort of rule of law anyway. And, it seems to me, neither does SCOTUS. And, this is done under emergency powers. SCOTUS is going to be mighty hesitant to mess with that.

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Winsome Sears: Virginia Lt Gov elect *great* speech: USMC!

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Two simultaneous liturgical colors?! It’s a matter of respect for the Most Blessed Sacrament.

The Altar of Sacrifice is not yet ready for the TLM, what with the need to put out the altar-cards and Missale Romanum. And we’re still continuing with the “finishing” of the new altar. The point of this post is about the two liturgical colors: Black and Violet.

  • BLACK: The Chalice is decked out in Black on All Souls Day in mourning for the dead and in favor of the Holy Souls in Purgatory.
  • VIOLET: Don’t think that this is some sort of mixing of rites with the Novus Ordo Missae, where one extremely rarely sees Black, say, at a funeral, but rather Violet amongst the more conservative (it’s said) or simply White. The rule is that one may never use Black for the Blessed Sacrament, such as the Tabernacle. So, Violet it is, even on days calling for Black. I was given a priest and chalice set of Roman Vestments and I noticed that there was no pall, the small square of stiffened material that is placed over the chalice during the Holy Sacrifice and over the paten when the veil is over the chalice. It’s not that it was a mistake that a Black Pall was not included, but rather one would use, say, Violet, if available.

That’s be playing liturgical terrorist as I have little idea of the veracity of the statements I’ve made above, other than that I trust another priest who is very well read-up in these matters. But if anyone has a different take on how this is to work out, by all means, leave a comment in the comments box.

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Thérèse of Lisieux: Don’t want to go to Purgatory

Great video Father Mark. Yes. I’ve been repeating Saint Thérèse’s admonition for decades: Don’t want to go to purgatory. It pains Jesus to hear such lack of trust from His Little Flock. Jesus wants us to go straight to heaven. I’ll wax poetic on the whys and wherefores of all of this in the spiritual life during this month of November.

I’ve offered nine Masses in the last few days, the usual weekend Masses and then All Saints and then All Souls, in both counties spread throughout the mountains of Western North Carolina. Too exhausted to blog much. But I did make it up to our Town Cemetery to pray for the dead. I always stop by the graves of a neighbor’s parents and then these two brothers. The older brother was already long killed in battle before his brother signed up. The older brother was the same age in his death as I was when I signed up for the Vietnam draft:

  • Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
    • Te decet hymnus Deus in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem. Exaudi orationem meam, ad te omnis caro veniet.
    • Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
  • Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon them.
    • Thou art worthy to praised, O God, in Zion, and to thee shall prayer be offered in Jerusalem. Hear my prayer, for to thee shall all flesh come.
    • Rest eternal grant unto them, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon them.

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Father George David “Peter Abelard” Byers

peter abelard

No update: this was published four years ago. I am compelled to put it up again. Not sure why. Perhaps I enjoy too much attacking Abelard’s Great Mistake that I see incessantly repeated today. Je ne sais pas. /////

Our new Vicar Forane in the Smoky Mountain Vicariate the other evening described me as being like Peter Abelard, the most brilliant if somewhat heretical philosopher who firmly established the foundations for all that which would be scholasticism after his death with Saint Thomas Aquinas (Abelard being born about a millennium ago).

The comparison, mind you, wasn’t about Heloise, or even smarts, but rather a marked hubris that antagonized whatever powers of hubris in whomsoever they might be incarnated at any given time or place, no matter how powerful, no matter how famous they might be. He made a career of challenging and humiliating all adversaries.

He did have some mighty adversaries, mind you, such as, according to a General Wednesday Audience of the great Pope Benedict XVI, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux. Bernard pursued Abelard trying to convert him from his unstoppable hubris. Abelard finally calmed down a bit on his death bed with his famous, “Je ne sais pas.”

What provoked this was my story of what I did with Father, now Cardinal Prosper Grech, an Augustinian and Maltese Patristic Scholar, indeed, co-founder of the Augustinianum across the street from Saint Peter’s Square, who was teaching the course on the historical critical method at the Pontifical Biblical Institute when I as a student there.

Father Grech was also a member of the Pontifical Biblical Commission. He was to be most feared by students in that, for instance, pretty much every candidate for the doctorate at the Biblical Commission who was praised by all members as the most brilliant in the world would nevertheless be forthwith failed by the supposedly merciless priest-academician, Father Grech, he destroying life-times of study with a stroke of his pen.

Father Grech told us at the end of the course that we had two options for the final exam, but only because he was forced to offer both by the Biblicum itself. He said that he would quite certainly fail all those who chose to write an essay, and this within the first paragraph, not even bothering to read the rest. “DON’T write an essay!” he commanded us, saying that he warned us, again forbidding us. The other option was to do an oral exam in which he promised that, as a consolation prize, he would look at the floor indicating our condemnation to hell, but thus giving us a chance to change our minds mid-sentence and provide, instead, the correct answer.

I, of course, waltzed right up to him after class and asked if I could nevertheless go ahead and write an essay. Astounded and speechless for some five seconds, grasping for words (hard to do that for five seconds mind you), he finally blurted out, visibly upset and yet enthralled at the same time, that, yes, he had to permit me to make this foolhardy move. I think that he secretly loved the fact that someone had the hubris to do the right thing, learning something while researching and thinking and writing. He would spy on me in the library researching my chosen topic, and even approached me a couple of times as I flew through the pages of massive tomes to discover what I just knew could be discovered in whatever language, living or dead, of whatever century or location, and discussed what I was doing, leaving quite flabbergasted. I finally handed in the essay at the last possible moment and waited in anticipation of hell. He gave me, according to the Roman system, 10 out of 10. Ha ha. Cardinal Grech is the best. I love him to pieces.

I could fill volumes with such stories, academic, ecclesiastical, political, interpersonal.

  • One diocesan priest at the Urbaniana University (right next to the Augustinianum) said that he would totally destroy me in print should I publish on “Yahweh Elohim” as a sentence name given what he thought he knew (but didn’t) about historical perceptions of Northwest Semitic by Semites to the South. Whatever.
  • One Dominican priest at the Angelicum said that if I published a defense of Saint Catherine of Sienna’s portrayal of Jesus commenting on Saint Paul, gutting the possibility of his mocking the great saint, he would pursue me right around the world by way of his iron grip on Catholic and Christian and Biblical publishing companies, easily convincing them to steer clear of anything written by yours truly. Whatever.
  • One Cardinal, papabile at the time but now deceased, said that if… [I had better stop…] But these stories are endless…
  • One Rabbi, head of relations between the State of Israel and the Holy See, said that if I were to continue spearheading a certain project, that would mean that… [again, I had better quit…]

I guess it’s that I’ve discovered early on that doing one’s best to do the right thing no matter what with no compromise always leads one way or another to the most interesting and varied of lives one couldn’t otherwise even imagine. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I just hope that on my death bed I will repeat those words of Peter Abelard with the attitude of hoping that perhaps I might thereafter be instructed by the Most Holy Trinity in the beatific vision, for after all, it is what Christ Jesus would have us say, we who know nothing at all, about our present understanding: “Je ne sais pas.”

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Dear Pope Francis: I’ll deny Joe Biden Holy Communion. It’s divine law, not human prudential policy.

Divine Law is truthful and just and charitable, all at once, by definition. And it is divine law that people who do not discern the Body and Blood of the Lord are not to receive Holy Communion (see below). But people don’t get that. Sending people to hell with a complacent conscience is uncharitable. Let’s be specific: that objectively monstrous people like Joey Biden who effectively picks his teeth with the ribs of aborted babies while he comes up to receive Holy Communion is just plain wrong, and it’s gotta stop. I don’t care what the bishops have to say about it, it’s divine law:

  • 1 Corinthians 11:27 — “So then, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord. 28 Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup. 29 For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves.”

And then there’s this:

  • “But Father George! Father George! You’re hurting Joey’s feelings on purpose! We know! You’re an old meanie! The most important thing, like, ever, is feelings, not eternal life or eternal death, heaven or hell, but feelings! And you are hurting feelings! Bad! Bad! BAD!”

Well, the Holy Spirit inspired those words of Saint Paul. If I needed a reprimand to get myself on to heaven I hope people would give it to me even if it hurt my feelings. But judging that I’m uncharitable for not judging the subjective state of someone, but rather their objective state from what they themselves obstinately and publicly and scandalously present most contentiously is a little bit weird. It’s a great charity to help someone turn to the Lord who needs to do that.

I’m not saying that Pope Francis said what Joey Biden said Pope Francis said about Joey being a good Catholic and that Joey should continue to go to Holy Communion. After all, Joey Biden spoke without a teleprompters. But Joey said what he said, and it’s out there, and it’s putting enormous pressure on the bishops in these USA to just throw 1 Corinthians 11:27-29 right out the wide open windows while the smoke of Satan enters in.

The effect is the same if Francis says nothing to correct what Joey said. But, truth be told, Pope Francis already declared himself on the matter in the recent plane trip when he condemned abortion then instantly allowed “pastoral” decisions of pastors to allow pro-abort politicians to receive Holy Communion, calling any denial of Holy Communion to such monsters mere ideological politics. In other words, abortion doesn’t matter. Joey Biden’s soul doesn’t matter. It’s all mere politics and ideology. Don’t expect Pope Francis to be making any correction. Joey Biden said exactly what Pope Francis wanted him to say regardless of whether or not Pope Francis said it.

I suggest that Pope Francis ought not say that 1 Corinthians 11:27-29 is – even though inspired by the Holy Spirit – the mere rubbish of rigid ideological politics as he effectively said in the plane interview. True, it will be said with their own false judgment that these verses are not written for our salvation and therefore in their own minds are not inspired. (They’re wrong on that: it’s all inspired, all for our salvation.) Or they’ll say that we’re all more clever today anyway, so it doesn’t matter. after all, we’re all infallible.

At any rate, I’m lucky to have such a small parish. Our parking lot couldn’t fit all the vehicles in Joey Biden’s entourage. Our little church could hardly fit in those of his entourage. But there’s plenty of room in the penitent side of the Confessional for him alone. And I’m still a Missionary of Mercy. About whatever undeclared excommunication he would have picked up I can absolve.

When Joey converts, we need him to go back to the Vatican and reprimand Pope Francis for not reprimanding him.

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