“The time is coming when anyone who kills you will think they are offering worship to God.” (Jn 16:2)
I always used to imagine that the “anyone” to whom Jesus was referring was someone else, you know, “those other guys,” not us. But it isn’t always that way. The “anyone” to whom Jesus refers is one of us, like Judas.
In Signorelli’s fresco, the Dominican friar who has just been axed to death is surely Saint Peter Martyr (of Verona). His assassin was a Catholic, a heretical Catholic, but a Catholic nonetheless, who later converted and became a friar himself.
The ones directing this murder as worship of god is the anti-Christ and Satan. It’s hard to tell whose hand is the one pointing down to the martyred saint:
The anti-Christ looks just like Christ Jesus, doesn’t he? That’s the point: like Christ in all things but innocence.
Today, we have bishops and priests who push the murder of babies in order to extol “vaccines”. If a pharmaceutical company takes a healthy, fully developed baby, removing it’s organs while it is still alive, being taken out of the womb, in order to do research and/or development and/or testing, it’s all murder. That baby is so very dead, no matter if it was for the research, the development or the testing, whether one or two or all of those things. One is not morally better or worse than the other. Murder is murder. Dead is dead. Killing the image of Jesus, the least of the brethren, is still killing the image of Jesus, the least of the brethren. Every time.
Seminarians around the world are being called ideologues if they don’t get “vaccinated”. They are being thrown out of seminaries. They will not be ordained. Those Jesus called to offer His Holy Sacrifice are themselves being cut down, that is, by seminary rectors, therefore by bishops, you know, bishops who look just like Jesus (see above).
Priests are also being told that if they don’t get “vaccinated” they will not be able to do anything for anyone, no more baptisms, no more confirmations, no more Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, no more Holy Communion, no more confessions, no more marriages, no more last rites, and it will be useless to promote acceptance of a vocation. Priests are thus also being cut down by those bishops who think that in doing so they are offering pure worship to God.
Most of all, it is the culture of death mentality that has crept into the Church. The culture of death becomes a cult of death, a worship of death, not Jesus laying down His life for us, but the murder of the most vulnerable, the least of the brethren. “That’s what true love is!” they proclaim.
The time has already arrived in which “they” – those among us – think that murdering the image of Jesus is worship of God.
Don Claudio Tonini, whom I consider a saint (without prejudice over against the Congregation for the Causes of Saints), was the parish priest of a fairly populous parish named after the Sacred Heart of Jesus in a mid-peninsula coastal smallish industrial and quite entirely unapologetically Marxist city of Italy (opposite the island of Elba). The town’s name is reminiscent of bullets: “Piombino,” “A Bit of Lead.” It’s nickname is “La Piccola Russia,” The Little Russia.
Don Claudio died in his 80s in March 1993, some 12 weeks after catastrophic injury-instigated medical disintegration consequent upon the murderous assault he suffered some months previously, in December 1992, only months after my own ordination to the priesthood.
That December of 1992, I was finishing up coursework for a Licentiate degree in Sacred Scripture at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. A list of parishes right around Italy went up on the bulletin board next to the infamous Aula IV of the PIB, requesting that any available student-priests sign up to travel to whatever parish throughout Italy in order to help out with hearing Christmas Confessions. I waited for other priests to take their pick, but then it was too late. My hesitation was surely the work of my guardian angel. The next thing I knew, the list was taken down. Feeling utterly useless, I went to one of the upper-hierarchy of the Jesuit community who was in charge of this project and asked him if there was still another parish that needed a priest.
“Yes,” he said enthusiastically, and then added immediately:
“I was going to go myself, but, believe me, you are the perfect one to go there. You are the only one who could go there. You’re perfect for this. Thank you for volunteering. You have the perfect balance and reserve and judiciousness for this [and on and on, making me suspicious]. Thank you for doing this. There are problems. But you’re perfect for this. Thank you.”
“What are the problems?” I asked, dead-pan.
“You’ll see when you get there,” he said, refusing to tell me even when I pressed him on this. But then he praised the parish priest of the parish: “He’s a famous missionary up and down the Italian peninsula, always in demand as a preacher of parish missions, called in by bishops far and wide. The [Marxist] town built a youth center for him next the church since everyone in town respects him so much.”
Taking the train from Rome, walking from the train station to the parish, dragging some luggage, I found myself quite alone, the church open, but dark. I looked around, prayed a bit, but the rectory was all locked up. I had been given instructions to stay in the guest room of the religious community around the block. Off I went.
The nice sisters led me to my a small “cell” in the guest quarters and then pointed to a table in another room with some bread and water and some tid-bits of food (very delicious, mind you). I was heartily thanked as the sisters came in to get a look at the one who was apparently a brave young priest for taking on this task. I was something of zoo animal. This simply couldn’t believe that any priest would be brave enough to take on the task. But I wasn’t brave. I was just there to hear some Confessions. That’s it. I didn’t know the story.
But our Lord would use the drama in that parish to continue training me in about the heart of the priesthood from the point of view of the High Priest, Christ Jesus. Our Lord was training me in to be a donkey-priest. Mind you, all donkeys are guard-donkeys, apt at protecting any flock of sheep from the wolves. I didn’t know there was a wolf in this situation, not yet.
“Where’s the parish priest, Don Claudio Tonini?” I asked the sisters. They looked at me, dumbstruck that I hadn’t been told what had happened. And they didn’t want to tell me, speaking in ambiguities that meant nothing. But I knew I would be alone in covering this Italian parish for Christmas, something I didn’t expect I would ever be doing a month before.
Eventually, asking really a lot of people, I found out what happened. My heart sank. Don Claudio was still in the hospital when I got there.
What had happened is that don Claudio’s assistant priest “Quel M” as don Claudio charitably called him, was finishing Sunday Mass, and while everyone was still there don Claudio went up to the pulpit to announce that all the youth were to gather over in the youth center after Mass, so, an announcement of ten seconds or so. Don Claudio was great at teaching the kids about Jesus on their level, but preparing by reading the Summa Theologiae of Saint Thomas Aquinas.
“Quel M” let himself get enraged about this, becoming volcanic, but able to get back to the sacristy, rip off his vestments and storm away. But he disappeared only for a few hours, coming back that afternoon to hunt down diminutive don Claudio (mid-80s, frail, about 5’5″ and perhaps 125 pounds), who was sitting at his desk in his office.
With both hands, “Quel M” (mid-30s, strong as an ox, about 6’5″ and perhaps 310 pounds) grabbed the largest volume of the Summa Theologiae of Saint Thomas Aquinas, and proceeded with all his might to bash don Claudio over the head and on his face with it, then choking him in a strangle hold trying to crush his throat which don Claudio had used to preach about Jesus throughout his life. Don Claudio, strangled for what I’m sure seemed like an eternity for don Claudio, dropped to the floor. “Quel M” left don Claudio for dead. Three days later (three days, mind you), don Claudio awakens from his coma and, from the floor – still on the floor precisely where he was left for dead, is just able to reach the phone on it’s stand and call an ambulance, face and head swollen like a basketball, eyes still swollen shut after three days. I still shudder today at the monstrosity of “Quel M”.
The assistant, “Quel M,” as don Claudio called him, successfully escaped to the mountains and then, not being arrested, hid out (ironically on any number of levels) at “La Misericordia” (The Mercy, an ancient funerary organization in Italy) located at a crusader era church at the waterfront just down the street from the parish.
The most the bishop and the vicar general would do at that time is, basically, nothing. They and the other priests of the Diocese of Massa Marittima – Piombino were scared to death of “Quel M”.
Senseless, you say? Sick, you say?
Meanwhile, “Quel M” returned to the parish (though forbidden by the bishop), in order, he thought, to preside at the funeral of the head of Italy’s Catholic Action. She was from the parish and all sorts of politicians and dignitaries and untold numbers of churchmen of every rank showed up from throughout the Italian peninsula. I asked the higher-up ecclesiastics if they would like to preside over the funeral. They were afraid, and so cited my appointment by the local ordinary to surveil the situation. I couldn’t believe it. “Quel M”, standing right there in the sacristy before Holy Mass, was a volcano. A monsignor whispered to him that he shouldn’t be there and “Quel M” erupted violently, but somehow got himself out the door like a twirling Tazmanian devil of Bugs Bunny fame, though there was nothing funny about this. He could easily have killed all of us. The priests were wide-eyed, truly afraid. “Quel M” again had murder in his eyes and was totally out of control. Within a few minutes he was back in again. In order to calm down the situation I asked him if he would do the first reading. “Si!” he exclaimed. But then, during Mass, from the side, he said all the parts that I was to say as the “main celebrant” as the phrase goes in the Novus Ordo (back in 1993). “Quel M” said those prayers in a very loud voice indeed, almost shouting them out. Just so sad. I let him read because I was afraid that he would actually have killed a number of the old priests there. Truly… Anyway…
Don Claudio survived his stay at the hospital, returned to parish, and he and I became instant life-long friends if such a thing makes sense. It’s just that it seemed we knew each other forever. He loved Jesus. He loved the truth. He called our friendship in the priesthood a “sintonia” in the truth, explaining that sintonia has to do with radio waves being on the same frequency, strengthening each other. It would only be weeks before he died. When one is smashed about to death as an elderly person, this will exacerbate all other medical conditions, and it will not be long before one dies.
When Saint John Paul II got wind of all this, he was pretty upset, furious really, and sent a letter to all the Italian bishops about how to deal with their priests. It was like a lightning strike. Bishops were on notice. Yikes! This was a saga which carried on some years and was infamous everywhere in Italy. When priests found out that I had been the one to stay with don Claudio they instantly exclaimed: “You’re the one!” incredulous that I was standing before them. But I was nothing but a donkey-priest doing what I had to do. It is don Claudio who is inspiring. Let me tell you a bit about that:
The rest of the story: I repeatedly begged don Claudio to tell the police what had happened, to tell the full story to the bishop, but he would not do this. Don Claudio didn’t want to hurt “Quel M” in any way. Don Claudio wanted with all his might that “Quel M” come to know the mercy of the Lord. Don Claudio taught me much about the priesthood in view of other priests. I don’t know if I leaned what I should have learned, but my experience with him has nonetheless been invaluable for me. Thanks, don Claudio! I went to visit his tomb in the mid-2000s, brought there from Rome by a friend who has served as a kind of special secretary, so to speak, for a successive number of Roman Pontiffs. Even after so many years, his tomb was surrounded by huge bouquets of fresh cut flowers. That’s impressive. I prayed for the repose of his soul, and then asked that he pray for this donkey-priest still upon this earth.
Having said all that, if I had walked in on “Quel M” attacking don Claudio, I think I would have – in one movement – thrown him through the window (high up along the ceiling with those way too narrow windows) and out into the garden far below. If he had broken down the doors (I think we had already changed the locks) so as to reenter to do away with me, a kind of post-hoc witness to the murder… Well, I’ll just stop there… Yikes! So, I’m no saint.
As the years went by, “Quel M” visited the student priest residence where I was staying in Rome. I sat at the same table with him at lunch (twelve to a table). He sat across from me. His eyes bugged out like a cicada eyes when he realized that I had been the priest who had rescued don Claudio’s parish many years previously:
“Splutter, splutter, splutter…” was all he could say. He was once again a volcano, but had to control himself, but just couldn’t, so outraged was he. Meanwhile, he knew he was being watched by the powers-that-be at the table, who were way too well connected for him to be able to throw a fit.
Meanwhile, the bishop of that little diocese back in the day was kicked upstairs to about the very top of the Vatican hierarchy. I just couldn’t believe it.
Meanwhile, “Quel M” had been a mockery of what it means to be a donkey-priest, killing the shepherd by crushing his esophagus, instead of keeping the wolves away by doing the same to them, figuratively speaking.
I had already been well aware of the spiritual hideousness that priests can get into, but I had never met someone like Judas who would just go ahead and kill a fellow priest. But, now, I had an experience that this was also possible. I know Judas betrayed Jesus, but it’s different somehow when you see someone with blood on their hands for having done this quite literally.
This prepared me for more opening of my eyes to how far Jesus had to reach to get all of us, so very far, right into hell, so as to save us. My eyes were opened, like that cicada pictured above, as to how far Jesus had to reach to get me. I realized a bit more how bad and evil I am if I am without the grace of our Lord: so very bad and evil. “Quel M” and yours truly, I realized, are not so very different. Given the circumstances in life, you know, from birth, it’s all “There but for the grace of God go I.” If we don’t get that, we are liars to God, to neighbor, to ourselves.
Graced humility is the only way. Don Claudio shows us the way. He didn’t at all want to hurt “Quel M” in any way, but only wanted that also “Quel M” know the mercy and goodness of the Lord. This donkey-priest has so much to learn about that graced humility that don Claudio exemplified. No wonder he was in high demand for conferences retreats for priests and for parish missions right around Italy. Thanks be to God for don Claudio Tonini.
Wild flowers near the hermitage. Beautiful, eh? Just behind them, between them and the trees you see in the background is a marsh that’s, say, four feet deep at the deepest and maybe ten feet deep when the drainage is in proper order.
It’s said that some old guy was murdered and thrown in there long, long ago. And then there’s the kid that was killed just there, held under water by his “friends”, but he escaped their grasp only to be held under a second time, and then a third time, and didn’t come up again, though it was, of course, as all such things, declared to be a suicide, you know, because we’re all nice people and those kinds of not-nice things don’t happen around here.
Meanwhile, flowers for the Immaculate Conception grow in abundance, not as if they ignoring such gratuitous violence and the denying of it, but so as to say that Jesus came into this world so as to make all things new, taking all that violence on Himself.
I’ve been weighted down with this since I saw it yesterday, and I’ve watched it many times.
I prayed for him, and now I’m praying to him.
The Diocese tried to discredit him by saying that he had a checkered history and that surely this was a suicide. Surely, a suicide: two bullets to the back of the head.
I find it interesting that the fax machine was taken. Who steals a fax machine and anything related to his being a whistle blower, except maybe the ones he’s blowing the whistle on? I bet the reporter who got the fax called the diocese for comment, was put off in some benign fashion, but later on received a threat to be silent and make the report disappear. When the reporter found out that Father Moreno was dead the reporter made sure to remain silent.
Thomas Aquinas says that the grace of final perseverance is not to be presumed, and that we should pray for this throughout our lives. Having considered that, now take a look at the grace that supports martyrs in their final moments while they persevere in giving witness to Christ no matter the cost, laying down their lives for their friends, the rest of us, which Jesus Himself says is the greatest demonstration of love that we can give. Such love covers a multitude of… of… checkered history or whatever. That’s why we say that martyrs go right to heaven. They were, in the moment of their deaths, at one with God who is love. It is the height of the grace of final perseverance.
His name is Father Joseph F. Moreno, Jr. It would be a great grace for the Church and the world if he were to be canonized.
I’ve written previously of this relatively recent incident – a conversation at a meal at a private house with many military officers and others – but I refrained from mentioning the involvement, so to speak, of Pope Francis in that conversation. Perhaps I should be more fulsome in these hectic, confusing, dark times. Here’s more detail about that evening with some of the top of our intelligence community. I think it’s safe to say all this now, two full months later. If it had anything to do with Pope Francis in the first place, whatever was happening with the murder as “suicide” thing is a danger which is surely now passed, I guess, maybe. But one should keep up with situational awareness, including those around Pope Francis. After all, there are those who wish harm upon the Holy Father, who do not hesitate to use extortion. Have we forgotten this scene with Mehmet Ali Agca?
I should emphasize that this was a strange evening. In walking into the house… well… it took like 40 minutes to get beyond the entrance as a discussion on what happens at GTMO was so intense, but I digress. Back to the mid-meal bit about Pope Francis:
Intel officer lady standing up and changing the topic: “Hey Father Byers: Pope Francis… Is his papacy viable? Is he worth it?” [This question about “it”, that is, making an intervention on his behalf, was clearly the point of this encounter with some twenty people, many who are in counterintelligence, counterterrorism and are at the top of their game. Everything went silent at this question and some of the main players were able to catch my eyes while they pointed at her, at her question, nodding their heads so as to say: This is it, the reason for this whole evening: Pay attention to the question. For that moment you could hear a pin drop. One stated the importance of the question to the immediate agreement of the others. The question about Pope Francis being “worth it” refers to… what? Since this crowd was making a big deal out of their knowing about every terrorist plot there is as a preface to this question, what am I supposed to think? It’s only a guess, but it is probable that they were taking seriously one of the many thousands of terrorist murmurings that are always being mumbled round about against the Vatican and the Holy Father, both “chatter” and direct threats. It’s only a guess, but it seems a question was posed higher up as to whether making an intervention on behalf of Pope Francis would be in the interests of these United States. Pope Francis, mind you, states that President Trump is not a Christian. Pope Francis, mind you, can offer Mass on the South side of the border fence. Pope Francis, mind you, doesn’t hesitate for a second to interfere in political / economic controversy. On and on. So, Pope Francis being “worth it” is a question. Indeed, I have to think that even the details of methodology were discovered, as we will see below, the whole murder as “suicide” thing.]
Father Byers to all present (paraphrased, as this part of the evening lasted about an hour): “Always, no matter what, any Pope’s security is worth an intervention. Stopping anything untoward against the leader of 1.3 billion people benefits the common good on so many levels and in so many ways. We believe that the papacy is not just some office, stuff to do, but is founded on the person of the successor of Peter himself. To strike at him is to make an attack on the One who has constituted him as Bishop of Rome. But let me tell you why in particular Pope Francis is ‘worth it.'” [A most intense discussion ensues for about an hour. At about the 45 minute mark, this happened…]
A senior GTMO interrogator knowing just about every terrorist plot and clearly with an ax to grind intel officer to me, shaking his head in rejection of my arguments: “Pffft!”
Father Byers baiting the same Senior GTMO interrogator: “Hey! You would know a best friend of mine who lives not quite around here, but, you know, right in this region. He would get permissions exclusively from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs – not the Chiefs – but only from the Chairman. He’s the one who would deliver detainees from black site to black site all around the world. We’ll call him a logistics guy. You would have met him many times. He would know you well.” [Since this conversation I’ve come to know yet another deliverer of detainees, logistics guy, who has been to GTMO many times. Interesting. It seems I’m getting to know all of them.]
Senior interrogator at GTMO:[He didn’t respond other than with two unmistakable tell-tale body language signs]:
Momentary fear in the eyes; he knows he can now be exposed, either as outright verified or as using the GTMO thing as a cover. I do have friends, one being frantic to say it is impossible to verify such things. But that’s irrelevant as, either way, the fear of this guy at the meal reveals the veracity of something serious going down.
Simultaneous to the fear in the eyes thing, he suffered a slight, bodily caving-in of the chest, accompanied with a slight shrinking in his chair, just a centimeter back and down, but visible, fearful, not wanting to believe what he just heard, a flight response of fear. He’s knows he’s just been had, totally. I really shouldn’t do this. Perhaps this is my weakness: being an enfant terrible, as the French say. Sometimes it seems it’s just too easy. Maybe it’s made to be too easy. Yet…
Top counterterrorism, counterintelligence guy to me, obviously the senior officer in this discussion but privately, now at the end of the meal and making our way outside the house: “I think you are right about Pope Francis.” [I was giving an impossibly positive spin on Pope Francis’ actions, trying to demonstrate that he’s worth the effort to save with an intervention. I think he repeated some four times in two minutes as we were walking outside and then again outside that he thinks that I’m right about Pope Francis. So then he says:] “I have an assignment for you.” [“assignment” – he’s baiting to find out if I’m the guy who stole my identity decades ago so as to do “assignments,” or if I’m me. Perhaps he knows I can have a chat with the head of security at the Vatican.] “Pay close attention to what Bill Binney [NSA metadata predictor of critical incidents and then whistle blower] says is the first thing to know about himself, that he would never intentionally commit suicide.” [He repeated that, emphasizing, for the sake of my assignment, that he would never intentionally commit suicide. Mind you, Bill Binney had not been mentioned that entire evening. That’s the first time I had ever heard of him. I’m guessing that all this murder as “suicide” thing refers instead to Pope Francis, since, as I say, in the midst of all this, this guy keeps repeating that he thinks I’m right about Pope Francis. I’m connecting the dots here, and I know I’m only guessing, but it seems that there was enough metadata to predict an op over against Pope Francis, one that would involve murder made to look as suicide. How devastating would that be for the Church and the world? The darkness and despair would be hard to imagine.]
To be even more fulsome, I should also include here that other chess pieces also came up in the evening’s conversation, including the demise of Miriam Waldu, the “Front of House” for Pope Francis who was murdered a couple years ago in the midst of the gay-marriage referendum of Italy. She was a shot over the bow. Extortion. Strange that her case was jacked up to a full blown murder investigation almost immediately and then absolutely nothing has been said of her since then. Nothing. As I’ve said previously, I think she was the one the FBI had been bragging to me about, a girl from ultra dirt poor Eritrea snatched up by our intel when it was happenstance noticed that she was the best in the world for instantaneous face recognition, able to recite the relevant biography for any of many thousands of pictures shown to her quickly only once, perfect, then, for “Front of House” for the leader of 1.3 billion people.
Another similar person in the employ of the Holy See came up as well. That guy seemed to have plenty of malice about him, and so I unmasked him. Sorry. I’m the King’s good servant but God’s first. You know the drill. That part of the discussion during the meal was all about his “demise” by way of what I still hold to have been a surely reversible cardiac incident. He was an Italian CIA asset working in the CDF. His identity and intelligence connection was confirmed for me not only by his American trainer – a close CIA friend – but by the head of intel / security at the Vatican).
I can’t imagine what kind of extortion Pope Francis is under, but that’s a story for later.
Of course, just because the blog slowed down for a while doesn’t mean that things haven’t been at breakneck speed. I’m still racing around to the shut-ins and the hospitals and nursing homes (the picture above being an on-the-way shot. The blog slowing down for just a bit could mean that things have been moving along faster than ever. I hope that doesn’t mean motus in fine velocior. Let’s just say: motus velocior.
Someone showed up recently – Army (counter)intel for years and now a handler for another rather important counterterrorism intel guy – to insist on giving me what he called an “assignment”, namely, considering the fact that if the demise of someone, obviously known to me (an insurance policy) were to come about such a person will not deliberately have committed suicide (a method of the CIA). Obviously there is a very specific person with a very specific intention to murder another very specific person in a way that makes it look like suicide and I should know, of all people, that that isn’t going to be a suicide but rather a murder. There were five individuals known to me who were individuated. So, there’s some sort of ultimatum being provided about what, I don’t know – or else – so that I had better stop whatever it is I’m doing that counterterrorism is interested in having me stop pursuing. I mean, there are a couple of things, one, in fact, that is rather far reaching and which involves counterterrorism and which would be embarrassing to a lot of people. I’ve been spending some time consulting on this with some rather in-the-know people, on a Federal level.
If anyone knows anything about me its that I don’t cave in to pressure. Ever. No compromise. Never. What is life if one sells out honesty and integrity and goodness and kindness and truth and respect for others, for individuals without whom there is no common good?
Meanwhile, I love being the country parish priest who brings Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament to people. But I would never compromise to keep that privilege either. :-)
A 29 year old woman just got murdered up the street from the rectory. A quiet small town and all that. Someone said that this part of town changed about ten years ago, for the worse.
The ex-con, who, it is said, also stabbed a dog to death a while back, is a felon, but he had a gun with which he shot the woman to death. He didn’t get his gun legally. There are already laws about felons not getting guns. Criminals don’t care about laws. That’s why they are criminals. His bail is fully a million dollars. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be out on bail. I think that anyone who treats animals badly is extremely likely to treat human beings in the same way.
We now have a police chief, not yet certified to make an arrest. He lives in another state. We have no officers. We do have a State Troopers office in town now, but there might be only one Trooper assigned for three counties at any given time. And in North Carolina the Troopers are not police. They’re assigned to traffic only. There are deputies in the county, but perhaps only three on duty at any given time of the night anywhere else in our expansive mountain county.
One of my shut-ins who lives just through the back yards of where the murder took place lives alone and is ultra-feeble and has no family in the area. I told her that if someone is breaking into her home that she is firstly to call 911 and then call me and then call 911 again. That doesn’t make me a vigilante, just a capable friend looking out for a friend. Do you have someone who will look after you when law enforcement is only hours away?
Oh. One last thing. Don’t ask for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee, for me. Are you ready? Am I? This guy could have gone after anyone at any time…
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were: any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.
It’s now Friday evening in Lent. Time for a Knights of Columbus Fish Fry, the Adoration with Stations of the Cross. Jesus stepped into this violence so as to bring us heaven. Having the faith is so very important. What would we do without hope. Last Friday evening our little church was jammed with people. We want Jesus!