So, Cardinal Cupich, the Red Guard, in Chicago is entirely shutting down the Institute of Christ the King in Chicago, you know, because they offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, Confession, Last Rites, the Faith.
Did they get due process for their incessant crimes of reciting the Creed?
This is absurd. A precedent of things to come. The Diocese of Charleston, just to the south of me, has also chosen this day to clamp down all the more. I’m guessing there will be many more and that the speed of closing down the TLM will increase: “You’re believers! Guilty!”
This is about logistics. The priests are not themselves cancelled, but all their priestly activity is cancelled. Can they be, will they be welcomed anywhere else in the world? Pope Francis is watching closely. Remember, they say – “Credo…” – and so are guilty of the worst crime in the world. Who could, who would take them? And so it will be for the rest of us.
But maybe if the good priests would just be more like Blase and bribe the demons with blessings for the new year so as to be saved by these demons in the coming year:
Or – Hey! – maybe the good priests should be more like Father Pfleger, and use a Pachamama canoe for the Consecration at Holy Mass.
Or – Hey! – maybe the good priests should STOP saying the Hail Mary and the Saint Michael prayer after Holy Mass. I bet that’s the problem.
Or – Hey! – ….
No. The good priests should just continue being good priests, come what may. The Lord Jesus, Sovereign High Priest, will provide for them, certainly also the privilege of being with Him on the Cross.
Galatians 2:11 — “When Cephas [=Rock=Peter] came to Antioch, I [Paul] opposed him to his face [yep, that’s literal, “to his face”], because he was being perfectly condemned.”
That Paul uses the Aramaic translation of Peter’s name, Cephas – Rock – is an incisive and well deserved emphasis of mockery against Peter, as being a “Rock” is exactly what he was not being. Peter allowed himself to be reduced to the shifting sands of relativism. That description, κατεγνωσμένος, a perfect passive participle – refers to Peter perfectly continuing to be perfectly condemned. This refers to Peter’s blasphemy of our redemption in Christ Jesus with Peter insisting that that redemption is useless, to be discarded, thrown away, spit on, because we should all instead just follow the old pedagogical punishments of circumcision, you know, for the sake of passing political correctness (like that‘s going to save us). Peter was a bullshit artist, and Paul called him out on it.
In fact, etymologically, to be pedantic about it, κατεγνωσμένος, comes from κατά (against) and γνῶσις (knowledge), so: knowledge that is held against someone. Paul’s judgment against Peter was consonant with God’s Living Truth. Thus, Peter stands condemned, perfectly.
Paul made the correction and thus became a saint.
Peter took the correction and thus became a saint.
That’s so very Catholic. We are to correct and admonish one another, helping each other be humble before Christ Jesus. We gotta get to heaven. We depend also on such admonishments. And it was not Paul who was bullying Peter. Peter was abusing his authority.
Not to correct someone is to be condemned to hell, and to assist others in being condemned to hell.
To correct someone is a great act of charity. One risks being smacked down by the one being corrected.
The ugliest thing in the world is when the one being corrected attacks the one correcting. That’s ingratitude that cries out to heaven for vengeance. God is The Authority. God hates abuse of authority.
Remember that in all this Paul is, in his own words, like an abortion compared to the super-apostles. Peter is “powerful”, the one on whom the Church is founded by the Son of the Living God. Peter could have thrown a self-entitled “Karen” tantrum embarrassing himself all the more, and the entire Church. Can you imagine that cataclysmic disturbance this would have caused in the early Church. The Church would continue, but wounded. Thank God Peter converted once again.
But now there’s a law in the Code of Canon Law which can illegitimately but very possibly be used by the powers that be to hurt with brutal hypocrisy those who would correct ecclesiastical superiors:
Canon 1373. A person who publicly incites hatred or animosity against the Apostolic See or the Ordinary because of some act of ecclesiastical office or duty, or who provokes disobedience against them, is to be punished by interdict or other just penalties.
For a bishop, even the bishop of Rome, to use such a law over against someone who is doing them the charitable courtesy of correcting them for evil behavior or the corruption of doctrine and morals is, to repeat, a supreme abuse of authority, for which, all the more, they need to be called out.
Is it easy for the upper echelon to kick those below them in the teeth, sending them into a coma, disallowing them to preach, to hear Confessions, to offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass? This is so very, very cruel. Demonic, really.
Pope Francis once gave good advice about this; “Humility, humility, humility.” Yep.
If one offers a necessary correction, this is, in and of itself, a justified attack on all that which is self-absorbed, promethean, neo-pelagianistic,, neo-gnostic, casuistic, “Karen”-self-entitled entrenchment into rigidity that betrays deeper psychological and spiritual problems… Whew!
The answer by the cowardly hissy-fit crowd is, of course, to say such things about those who instead are just doing their best to be charitable and courteous, whatever the cost.
Those who charitably correct their brothers are not hurt in the least by those who would smack them down. Instead, they are filled all the more with joy at having the opportunity to suffer for the Holy Name of Jesus.
And given all those who are necessarily correcting the powers that be these because of all that needs to be corrected, I’d like to suggest to the powers that be that need correcting not to be so arrogant in slamming those who risk all to make that correction. They are vulnerable, not powerful, and it is an almost inescapable temptation to simply lash out against them. Don’t do it. Just take the correction, and convert. That Christ Jesus will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire is no joke. You should, instead, be thankful, first of all to Jesus who redeemed us all and wants that “the many” be saved.
Here’s a fictional conversation between myself and a certain law enforcement officer:
What’s up with the Mafia, Father Byers?
I’m a priest, not a rat.
You’ve made it point to get to know a guy helping head up GICO of GdiF.
That antimafia freakboy? I’m impressed. You’ve done your research. But you’re wasting my time. Am I free to leave?
You’re right. It was his initiative. He made it a point to get to know you. We put him on to you.
But for years, with bribes that would embarrass Church and State, with extortion that would have left me bereft of lifesaving medicine, even threats to bring my priesthood to an end in any number of ways, all witnessed, so annoying. Typical craft. What of it?
But life as a spy, full of adrenaline, the assignments he was giving you… You resisted…
I guess you’re having a problem with my answer at the start of this interrogation.
You misunderstand. This is just a conversation. We’re all friends.
So, I’m free to leave, friend?
There is the matter of that liaison between the Ministero della Difesa and the Holy See that we had living at your college in Rome.
You mean that idiot wanting to get me assigned to a certain parish with the end of having me break the Seal of Confession should any members of the mafia sing about what they’ve done? That weasel, sorry excuse for a human being, pezzo di merda?
Um… the best attorney Italy has to offer, Father Byers. He was getting his doctoral degree in Church Law as well if I remember. But, yes, that’s why we’ve brought you in.
I cannot break the Seal of Confession. What’s said there stays there, buried deep in the wounds of Christ. I would die before breaking the Seal of Confession. I don’t want to be excommunicated. I don’t want to go to hell. I want to go to heaven. I cannot betray the blood of Christ Jesus in the Confessional. I have no right to anything said there. If I were to betray sins confessed in Sacramental Confession, I would take the guilt of all those sins on myself. I won’t do that. As for you… you betray your oath to uphold the Constitution, the First Amendment, the free exercise of religion. You should go to Confession. We’re done here.
But we thought you might be brave enough to go up against the mafia.
I want those in the mafia to go to heaven, repentant, with a firm purpose of amendment, with changed circumstances of life, with absolution.
We just want to listen in. We wont act on anything. It’s privileged information. You can do your duty as a priest and help to protect innocent people.
After all this time, you, the religious expert — one-time seminarian, is that right? — you still don’t get that I’m not against flesh and blood. I want people to go to heaven, including the mafia. I am against the fallen angels. And you’re siding with them, aren’t you? I believe in God, because I see His wounds.
I’ll tell you whose wounds I see, those of the sheep inflicted by those damned mafia wolves.
You only lust after promotion. You come to me only because you can’t do your own job. You just want to imprison the mafia. But I can do more to end the multiplication of victims by converting individual members of the mafia, relying only on integrity and honesty and honor and respect.
Read that article to the end. It includes the priest’s response to Pope Francis in his own words.
This priest can now only offer the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass “privately”, but even that will be taken away unless he absolutely refrains from saying anything that the Supreme Pontiff might just possibly not like.
This martyr priest is, of course, being used as an example to all other priests and bishops. Say anything whatsoever to assist the Bishop of Rome to be closer to Jesus and that Bishop of Rome will attack you with all the fury of hell.
My response to such self-righteous abuse of authority Karen drama on the part of the Successor of Peter – how embarrassing – is to cite Galatians 2:11, you remember, when Saint Paul reprimanded [not yet Saint] Peter:
“When Cephas [Peter] came to Antioch, however, I [Paul] opposed him to his face, because he stood to be condemned.”
As I’ve said before, had Paul refrained from doing this, both he and Peter would have gone to hell. Had Paul done this but Peter rejected the rebuke, Paul would go to heaven but Peter to hell. As it is, Paul did do this and now both are in heaven, Saint Paul and Saint Peter. Great!
Canon law recognizes the God-given right of the Christ’s faithful to bring their concerns to the pastors of the Church without fear of getting kicked in the face, without fear of having their throats slit by those who would throw infantile tantrums against such charitable souls. This priest isn’t an old meanie. Reprimanding someone who needs it is extremely difficult. The easy way until everyone goes to hell is just to say that abortion is a Holy Sacrament, that good is evil, that Jesus is not divine, that there is no sin, that there is no doctrine, no morality, nothing. But this priest isn’t taking the easy way that leads to hell. He trying to get himself and Pope Francis to heaven, like Paul did with Peter. Is that so bad?
In solidarity with this priest, who says he will continue to speak up, and who’s probably heading for laicization because of that, and in solidarity with the Successor of Peter now ingloriously reigning, who needs to receive such a reprimand from that priest, prayers go up for both. Please join me: Hail Mary…
That post was about him. This one is about my own usage of the dynamic of alcohol.
As I said in that last post, dad is totally my hero for how he went from being the active alcoholic to getting really close to Jesus with daily Mass and spiritual direction from priests. He became sober in the early-mid 1970s, successfully going cold-turkey on a certain Ash Wednesday, and sticking with it. That really impressed me. Great example.
Do I drink? Not much. Nothing against it. Catholics know how to party, as we know from the Wedding of Cana. But to say that any drinking on my part is a rare event doesn’t quite tell the story.
In younger days, when offered a slice of salty pizza, I might be given a beer. Whatever.
More recently, I’m sure I’ve had a craft beer here or there. We didn’t have those when I was a kid. Back when I was in Europe I do remember having a panaché or two. Some will say that doesn’t count. Even more recently, I remember having a sip of apple cider. But hard liquor? I would try a Bailey’s Irish Cream on a spectacular occasion, every other ten or twenty years. The rector of the seminary at which I was a new faculty member ordered a Manhattan for me at a meal for all the new priest-professors at Ruth’s Chris. I didn’t know what a a Manhattan was. Now I know it’s not for me.
Here’s the deal: as I grow older, I find out that my larynx swells up because of the trauma of a drink with too high of a percentage of alcohol. I have a super rare hereditary disease and I gotta be careful. My mom, from whom I got this hereditary malady, suffocated to death with her throat swelling up (not because of alcohol), as do about 1/3 of those affected. Not pleasant. I’ve been at that point of my esophagus just barely not being entirely tightly swelled shut more than a couple of dozen times throughout my life. I’m just waiting my turn for the 100% event at anytime. So, it’s just not worth having a hard drink. That’s all been good for my spiritual life, but – Hey! – there are other ways, like a Rosary.
Besides, now, for some six years, I carry G-19 Gen-4. That doesn’t mix with any drinking, ever. Period.
Whatever about having a panaché or a craft beer or even the rare Bailey’s in days of yore, my attitude toward alcohol my entire life was simply benign neglect. You like it? Go for it! I enjoy having a sharp intellect as much as that’s even possible through my fog.
Reflecting on this now, I cannot for the life of me even once think of any occasion ever when dad offered any alcohol of any kind to me, ever. He totally respected me on this point. That respect of his for me was very formative. He wanted better for me. I took that in stride. Thanks, dad.
I’ve lost good friends in just saying “no” to their offer of hard liquor. But it’s not a friend of any kind who, even in knowing my medical condition, still doesn’t care one bit about that. I know how to be polite, but then entrench. When I was a kid there was never a problem with any forcing dramatics. The first time I had to learn how to say “no” to alcohol was when I was a new deacon just assigned to a parish Stateside for a month or so during the Summer break in between school years over in Rome. Learning how to say “no” was an event, that is to say, it happened all in the space of a couple of days which brought all the premises of a lifetime together, so to speak, in the argument that would play out to a conclusion of how to deal with… trouble. Just say “no.”
It was a huge rectory with three priests assigned there. The pastor was an alcoholic in total denial. The parochial vicar befriended me but stayed out of the way of the other two priests, one of them being “in residence.” This would be a perfect experience for me for me to be trained up in saying “no” to alcohol just to test the psychological dynamics. Was I welcome as a human being bringing with me an entire life history, or, as a deacon wanting to be a priest, did I have to conform to some behavioral standard just to impress the powers that be so as to get a good word put in for me to the bishop? In other words, would I have to drink hard liquor just to fit in, or else?
For the first week at this new assignment I stayed in my room in the evening, reading, studying, praying, whatever, anything but making myself available in the “common room” of the rectory, trying to avoid the drama of the alcoholism. But then it struck me that this was no way to live.
I made my way to the “common room” one evening with something to read, a large tome of moral theology, something about Humanae vitae by Italian author Father Ermenigildo Lio, something that would take me days to plow through. The “common room” was very spacious, with all sorts of couches and chairs and coffee tables, a large television, always stocked with chips and drinks and a beer-keg fridge with a tap through the door. The door of the “common room” was always open. I sat down, turned on the reading lamp next to me, and opened my book.
In no time at all, so predictable, the pastor appeared, taken aback at my presence, but he said hello, and then went to get a beer stein and fill it up at the tap of the keg fridge, but only, say 1/3 full. He would then waddle back to his room. Five minutes later, a repeat. This went on for hours. Finally, I had him spooked. He spoke up:
So, you’re just reading, right?
So, what’r you reading?
Oh just something by Ermenigildo Lio. Good stuff. On Human vitae.
So, is your room O.K.?
Perfect. I just thought this would be a change of scenery. This is a nice chair.
We can get a chair like it for your room.
This is O.K.
So, just so you know, I only fill up the stein just a bit. I’m cutting back. Doctor’s orders.
[[… back to reading … head down … I wasn’t thrown out … yet … but it wouldn’t be long now …]]
I’m so bad and evil. But I got the message across. He knew better than to get plastered every night like this. He was upset with me for calling him out just by reading quietly in chair in a “common room.”
The next day I was told by the in-residence priest to make sure to show up for the evening meal. It was a setup, of course. The in-residence priest brought some very expensive hard liquor and made up some special occasion which didn’t sound special at all. The parochial vicar didn’t show up, smart as he was. No food was on the table yet, but the bottle was de-foiled and un-corked, and I was given one of the special glasses he also brought. I politely refused, setting the glass upside down on the table, now guessing the connection with the night before. I wasn’t going to be manipulated. He insisted. I even more politely refused, ever so soft-spoken, going out of my way to be very nice indeed. He insisted again, picking up the glass and filling it up, shoving it in my hands. I put it back on the table. We played this game a few more times as the pastor watched intently. It was all quite aggressive by this point as the in-residence guy told me that he was involved with seminarian formation and then instructed me:
“If you’re going to be ordained a priest you’re going to have to learn to drink sociably.”
“This is an issue we’re going to have to raise with the bishop.”
“Fine with me.”
And in anger, he stomped out, not staying for the meal. The pastor said nothing, but that evening repeated his beer stein waddlings.
If they were going to deny me ordination to the priesthood over politely refusing a drink (they weren’t interested in reasons), that means I was already dead. I was transferred to another parish, just like that.
Look, I’m no paragon of virtue. I’m not putting these guys down to say I’m great. No. It’s just that I did learn something from my dad and I thank him for that and I want more people to gain from the lessons he taught me. It’s about Jesus. He’s the One. He’s the only One. He knew that. Jesus’ Little Flock can know Jesus. He’s our pastor. It’d be great if priests would get to know Jesus like this as well. We’re nothing without Jesus.
Jesus saw me, and I saw Him seeing me, beckoning me to follow Him in His priesthood priesthood 60 years ago today, 24 June 1962, the First Class Feast of the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist (and also this year the First Class Feast of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus). The call from Jesus to His priesthood came to me most appropriately during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass when I was just 28 months old, not even 2½ years old.
Formation faculties at seminaries today disdain reports of such vocation events especially at such a very young age, for they instead want to feel useful, and have “conversations” about “the process” of discernment, creepily digging into feelings and such. Consistent with that, the useful ones kept repeating that we would know we had a vocation when our names were called by them at the Ordination Mass. Nice ecclesiology, that. But I tell you I suddenly knew absolutely that I had a vocation at 28 months old in the presence of Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament. There was no process at all: I didn’t choose Jesus; He chose me. It’s one of those “Let the children come to me” things. He drew me to His Heart. It’s His fault!
It was a beautiful but hot Summer’s day both outside and inside Saint Paul’s Catholic Church on the northern side of Saint Cloud, Minnesota. The church building looks the same today as it did on that day, 60 years ago.
At the time, there was a magnificent High Altar at the center-back of the sanctuary, behind altar rails, of course. The Tabernacle was in the center of that High Altar, where Jesus Himself was enthroned. Jesus utilized those logistics the Most Blessed Sacrament in calling me to His priesthood before it all disappeared.
It would only be a few years later that I was devastated to see and hear that the church had to be closed for police investigations and repairs. This took many months. That’s when the family started “church-hopping,” a term coined later, in post Vatican II chaos. What had happened is that the backside of the High Altar had suffered from an arson attack, say, in 1964 or 1965, and then was quite severely wreckovated, which did much more damage than the fire did.
It would be more than 3½ decades later, in the late 1990s, when, over in Rome, I told a papabile Cardinal friend my vocation story. He was instantly angry with me, reprimanding me sternly to impress the point: That means you’re especially responsible for every moment of your priesthood. Take His priesthood seriously! I objected that everyone should take seriously whatever vocation they have from Jesus whenever they get it. My snarkiness didn’t go over well. He was angry. Anyway…
Every vocation does have a lived context in which Jesus makes His call to follow Him. My vocation event happened 3½ months before the opening of the Second Vatican Council later that year, 11 October 1962. Mind you, preparations for the opening session were well under way and, just when Jesus was calling me, the “too traditional” schemas of the documents for the Council were being rejected while a general rebellion against doctrine and morality and reverent liturgy and proper instruction on the spiritual life was being prepared.
Excuse the lack of subtitles in the video below. Just the scenes are well worth the few minutes to situate you back in those waaaay too optimistic, heady, self-congratulatory times. Believe me, subtitles would be a bit frightening. Some were well intentioned, but others worked for the demise of the Church.
Back to the vocation event where even the fine details are important, and, yes, I remember everything when I was kid. I’m still able to describe, like I’m seeing it now, the house we lived in until we moved, when I was still just one year old. Anyway…
I remember with a perfectly clear memory, clear as a bell, seeing right now, as it were, the white fiddleback Roman Mass vestments on that Sunday of my vocation, 24 June 1962.
I was with my entire family on the central aisle side of the long wooden pew, the second from the back of the church, on the Gospel side. I was next to dad, my brother on the far side of him, with both sisters being surveilled by mom on my other side. I was straining to see through the jam-packed crowd of everyone in their Sunday best, with all their flowered hats and veils for the women, and suits, despite the day being so hot, for the men. Yes, churches were jam packed, standing room only, back in 1962.
I was trying to behave, but, being in the midst of the terrible twos as I was, mom had to keep repeating that I should just stay seated. But by the time the first reading was going on over on the Epistle side of the High Altar, ad orientem, of course, I was on my feet, standing tippy-toe on the kneeler, both hands on the top of the pew in front of me, hanging on for dear life, with me just being able to see over the top of the pew and between the shoulders of the two people in front of me. I remember the person in front of me on my right leaning a shoulder hard on my fingertips – ouch! – claiming their space. I stood my ground. I was interiorly compelled to see what was happening up in the sanctuary of the church, some 170 feet away (I just did a google-maps check).
The priest had now made it over to the Gospel side, pausing in the middle of the High Altar for the prayers of purification before the Gospel, even while the Missale Romanum was brought over for him. When he finished the Gospel, he took off what I now know is a maniple, and he placed it over the Missale Romanum. Then, and this is allowed by the rubrics of the time, and because it was such a hot day, he proceeded to take off the fiddleback vestment for the preaching.
Poor guy, he hadn’t untied the strings that hold it in place. I know that now, using such Roman vestments all the time. All I saw back then is that he was really struggling. He had flipped the vestment over his head, which is where it stayed because of it still being tied on. Both deacon and subdeacon came to his rescue. I felt sorry for him, but I was also a little scared, even at that distance, because he was really quite flustered by the time he was freed of his entanglement. In anger, he crumbled up the vestment and then placed it in a ball on top of the maniple and Missale.
He made his way down the steps and went to the pulpit and began to preach. I was trying to pay attention, not to what he said, for I was too young. It’s that I was interiorly compelled to pay attention, but I didn’t know to what, to whom, but I had to pay attention. Then it hit me that there was something, that is, Someone else who was drawing my attention, namely, He who is the One, the only One, back at that High Altar, in the Tabernacle, with me not knowing anything about God or the Blessed Sacrament, but for me, right then, right there, I recognized Him who was recognizing me, looking upon Him who was looking upon me, His powerful, majestic, personal, loving Presence, beckoning me. I was agape, bonded to Him. Let me be clear, without seeing anything or anyone with my physical eyes, I most certainly saw Him seeing me. I was transfixed. Suddenly self conscious, I quickly looked from side to side for reassurance, only to see the Styrofoam bored looks one might expect to see during a boring homily on a super hot Summer Sunday morning in church. I quickly looked back at Him whom I saw seeing me, looking right into my soul, and I was all the more taken, enthralled.
What Jesus saw was the indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity in my soul by way of the sanctifying grace from my baptism. That grace, reflecting God Himself, was not besmirched, for I was too young to commit any personal sin. The call was clear as clear as clear can be. He wanted me there, with Him for my whole life, at His Altar of Sacrifice. Not that I knew this was His altar of Sacrifice. Not that I knew what it meant to be a priest other than to be totally available Him, dedicated to Him. He’s the One. He’s the only One. I don’t know how to describe this adequately, but there was a fast bond established right then, right there.
And there’s another aspect to that. It’s like I was directed to understand that there was an analogy to be made of that priest with myself, again, not on any intellectual level – I wasn’t even 2½ years old – but spiritually, and before Jesus, and in view of that ever so personal bond I now had with Jesus. I perceived that the priest who was preaching was inept, unworthy of being in the presence of the One, the only One, but so was I. I was in objection mode with a sense of not being worthy, but that being dealt with by the One calling. That’s on Him. From the get go, I perceived that humble thanksgiving to this Majestic One was the only way to proceed. The emphasis was and still is on thanksgiving, without losing sight of knowing I’m unworthy. Being in solidarity with that priest has always been an aspect of the priesthood for me, trying to be available to other priests, sometimes for friendship, sometimes for the sacraments, giving and receiving, and sometimes that’s for offering reprimands, or in getting reprimanded. :-)
Look. I get it. We don’t hear much of that kind of experience happening with an infant. Granted. But I’m not saying that my reflections on the experiences had all the intellectual descriptions with refined vocabulary back in the day. That I’m making those descriptions now with all my present vocabulary is simply speaking to an experience as personal and alive now as it was then, that steadfast bond of love and truth being unchanging, as if it were happening right now, and it is, and it still the same Jesus, still the same call, still the same bond that He creates. On the level of love, this is absolutely possible back in the day just as it is right now, filling me with joy. The least of the brethren, mere infants, have souls that are wide open to the goodness and kindness and truth of God even at a very young age. Children are drawn to real goodness, real kindness, to Him who is Truth, and can absolutely assent to that bond of love that is created by the One, the only One who calls.
But, one more thing to say about this: my guardian angel witnessed Jesus calling me to His priesthood, and this added to this great angel’s burden to light, to guard, to rule, to guide, also in view of the chaos that came my way and has come my way throughout my life, with much that chaos being how the gangsters hijacked the Church already way back in the day.
Finally, this call from Jesus is the foil I use for an examination of conscience. Jesus’ call obviates that I am not up to living up to that vocation. That’s with me constantly, but that also spurs on the thanksgiving. Jesus is very good. Jesus is very kind. I’ve known that, been convinced of that, for 60 years.
Msgr Burrill’s very public, extensive, profound renunciation of past sinful lifestyle, with a very public, extensive, profound and clearly faithful orthodox evangelism of the moral theology so clearly presented throughout Sacred Scripture, Sacred Tradition and the authentic interventions of the Magisterium of the Church.
Such days of distraction we’ve had, however necessary such an essential service is as provided by the diocese. All the parishes are supposed to be audited every few years or when a pastor is transferred. I doubt that I’ll be transferred out of this, my most favorite of all parishes. But we’re way out of date for any audits, both because of some diocesan planning logistics and because we’re about as far away from the Chancery as one can possibly get in these back-sides-of-the-back-ridges of beautiful Western North Carolina. But now we’re up to date and good to go for another few years.
It was quite the eye-opener for our auditor, the actual Director of Internal Audits, you know, our smallest of all parishes as compared to the big city parishes. Most of the audit inquiries were entirely irrelevant in our tiny parish, such as what kind of compensation oversight did we have for oversight teams for hiring third-party oversight teams for whatever project teams we might have, for instance, in creating oversight teams for oversight teams. Sorry, just a bit of humor there. ;-) But you get the idea. Some things are relevant only to the mega-big-city-parishes. Having grown up with wolves and moose in the North Woods of Minnesota, I’m so happy to be waaay out in here in the State and National Forests.
Our patron saint to whom we pray at the opening of our Finance Council meetings in the parish is Saint Turibio, a Mexican priest, a Cristero martyr, who the day and night before he was murdered took his horse from parish to parish to parish to get all the books in order! I’m impressed.
I bother to make this a post on this blog for the sake of encouraging good vocations to the priesthood who are going to be squeaky clean regarding finances. You cannot serve both God and mammon. Don’t be scandalized by all the scandal. You just do what is right. And that’s already its own reward. You are free of the darkness, free to serve Jesus with one’s whole mind, soul, heart, strength. A joy.
To the left is my now broken oleum infirmorum (oil of the sick) stock. I have no idea how old it is. I think it was already a lifetime old when I was gifted it as a young deacon getting ready to be ordained a priest also a lifetime ago. It’s got really a lot of history to it; it could tell many end of life dramatic stories of God’s good grace all over this world on so many continents in so many countries. This was a nostalgic moment for me.
The new cotton and oleum infirmorum from this year’s Chrism Mass just weeks ago was transferred from the broken stock to the “new” old stock pictured on the right. I’m guessing that this “new” old stock I had on hand is from the late 1800s or early 1900s. I think I inherited it from a priest in my first assignment as a deacon waaaay back in the day. He had been a priest for some 60 years already. I have no idea of its long history and, it looks like, heavy usage. I’m eager to begin adding to its saga of dramatic stories of God’s good grace who knows where in this world from now on as I myself get older and it will go to some other priest as time goes on.
I’ve also been gifted stocks or bought stocks other than these, always but always a total disappointment. Mere trinkets. You get what you pay for. If it’s in a “sick-call set” it’s always useless, with junk metal flaking off in chunks when you try to screw off the cap the first time. And then there’s no room for the cotton or oil, and there’s certainly no all-important hinged-ring on the bottom (also important for grip in screwing off the cap). The hinged ring is for the priest holding his sacramental ritual book and the opened stock upright in one hand while he’s anointing the Lord’s suffering soul with his other hand.
You can hardly get these older style stocks with plenty of room for cotton and oil inside and a hinged-ring, and made from at least brass. Yes, brass is also a junk-metal, but it can be plated and it’s really, really, really strong, and that’s what’s needed more than the gold. Nothing works like brass. Not gold. Not silver. Not alumini[!]um. Nothing else. That’s my constant, continuous experience. I remember a pewter stock with a hinged ring. That broke off in like the first use. Sigh.
Older style stocks are mostly unavailable, are on forever-back-order, etc. I’m happy for the inheritance of two O.I. stocks from ages past. I’m thinking that making these things is a lost art whilst insane-liberal-unbelieving priests invalidly delegate Last Rites to be given by whoever the EMHC happens to be, sending them out with weird glass jars with huge corks with surely coconut or cbd oil, maybe essence of aroma therapy oil, you know, while they all sip effete elitist leftist lattes while also handing out the white cookie thingies… Grrr. That’s not my Church. And that’s not a straw man story. I’ve been an assistant priest in many parishes in past decades right around the world where those were the circumstances of [not] pastoral care, so that I took over all the Communion Calls because people were not getting Confession and the Last Rites, even if they thought they were because that’s what the heretics told them.
Anyway, I’m guessing this other stock will make it to it’s second century mark before it quits. I think I myself will have received the Last Rites (please God) and die in the Lord’s good graces (hopefully) long before this other stock pictured on the right breaks down. There are good priests in my diocese.
Reminder:Call the priest for Last Rites before someone dies! You can’t receive a sacrament after you’re dead. It is a terrible thing not to call the priest when someone is dying and needs the last rights.
Instruction: Some parts of some cultures, particularly Italian and Latino in my experience, will absolutely not call a priest for Last Rites until someone has died because, as they tell me, we can’t call a priest for Last Rites when someone is living, because then they’ll die. Aaarrrrgghh! It’s not infrequent that I’ll get “the call” days after someone has passed away. This, even though I frequently instruct about calling the priest right away while the person is still alive.
Lemme tell you, I can’t even begin to tell you all the miracles that have happened because of this sacrament, saving the person’s soul, but then also at times bodily life in this world if that’s what the Lord wants. This can often give the person some reprieve to do more for the Lord in this world before they definitively are on their way to the good Lord Jesus.
By the way, this is NOT an advertisement for anyone to get me another stock! No! I’m going to do a deep clean on the broken stock (they both need an outside clean-up) and I’m gonna fix it. I know how to do these things. It would be a just-in-case stock if the new old one also breaks. So I’m nostalgic.
“But Father George! Father George! This just shows how extremist you are! The laity have been handing out – what did you call it? – communion, for a long time, and we have oil too! You have a broken oil stock?! That proves you’re superstitious: “The priest has to do it!” And you think the laity can’t provide that sacrament?! What do we men and womxn have to do, get ordained?”
smh. My response to that is to admit that I’m really hard on such things as oil stocks as I give them a terrible work-out in the field, all the time, thanks be to God.
All of these flowers for the Immaculate Conception are at the house of some friends. They love our Blessed Mother. I’m sometimes able to visit them on the always epic “Day Off”, which was dedicated this time to watching the woodworking skills of Joseph, who whipped up a large cross that will go high atop the cupola of Prince of Peace mission church across the mountain in Graham County.
The cross will receive coatings protecting it from the weather before it’s exalted on high.
After taking pictures of flowers for the Immaculate Conception (that being the first priority), they generously provided me with an exaggerated-bacon breakfast.
That provided energy to spend the day solving all the problems of the church and the world.
The irony of that is appreciated, it being that I’m a troublemaker amongst the problems of the church and the world.
On the way back home, I did something I haven’t done in a very long time, taking the old, non-truck route 64:
And then at the very last second I turned off on Wayah Road. It all made me realize once again that I have the most beautiful parish in the world, the Lord’s Little Flock and also the paradise that WNC is.
“No one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for My sake and for the gospel will fail to receive a hundredfold in the present age – houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and fields, along with persecutions – and in the age to come, eternal life.” (Mark 10:29-30)
The statement “We’ll be burning the Eucharist” (their capitalization) shows that this is likely a Catholic who had numerous abortions. Too sad, that.
Communion in the Hand no longer
In my diocese the policy is that people have the option to receive Holy Communion in the hand. However:
At the Spanish Vigil Mass everyone receives on the tongue, kneeling, always.
At any TLM Mass it’s an absolute law enforced by the Holy See, also in times of Covid, that Holy Communion must be received only on the tongue. We follow the law.
There are also a number of English Masses at which most all receive on the tongue. Those who receive in the hand thus number between one and three people per week. That’s it. But…
Whatever about pro-Communion in the hand policy in any (arch)diocesan policy in any given place, the superceding duty of a priest in the universal law of Holy Mother Church is to protect the Most Blessed Sacrament from danger of desecration. After all, this is the Lord God, Christ Jesus, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity who is the Most Blessed Sacrament. Therefore, we will no longer be providing Communion in the hand. At this time in history it is simply too dangerous. Period.
But I doubt that the statement about burning the Eucharist mostly regards stealing the Blessed Sacrament at Communion time and making videos in church of burning the Sacred Host with a Bic Lighter. It’s more likely that they’re referring their Molotov cocktails thrown on the altar during Mass, thrown at the tabernacle. After all, bigger flames means more hits on the internet. Just think: eternity in hell for a few internet hits. Sad, that.
As a priest, I love that Jesus would have me act in His Person (in Persona Christi) when reciting His wedding vows with His Bride the Church with the Consecrations at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, this is my body given up for you in Sacrifice, my blood poured out for you in Sacrifice. His standing in our place, the Innocent for the guilty, taking on the death we deserve for original sin and our own rubbish is how He has the right in His own justice to have mercy on us: “Father! Forgive them!” And then, to provide the Most Blessed Sacrament to pious followers of Jesus at Holy Mass… I’m in heaven, so happy, and so are the communicants with their bright and beaming faces.
I would hate to cancel Communion for the faithful altogether during Holy Mass because of some monstrous shriekers crashing in and blocking the free exercise of religion. Ruth Sent Us is trespassed from the property. They have no free speech rights on our private property. I’m just not going to permit desecration of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Not on my watch. Ain’t gonna happen.
Jesus is the Head of the Body, we are the members of that Body of Christ. Jesus, who was Himself an unborn baby for nine months in the womb of His dear Immaculate Mother, doesn’t take kindly to the least of the brethren being ripped to shreds, melted with saline solution, vacuumed with cutting machines, decapitated, stabbed, dismembered. Jesus isn’t happy with this even when it’s done for medical research. Do you hear that, you murderous bishops who do anything Satan, Joe Biden and Fauci tell you to do for “vaccines”? Do you bishops think you can point the finger at Ruth Sent Us? You yourselves set up the culture for them to do that. If you have zero respect for babies in the womb you have zero respect for Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament. That’s how it works. Ruth Sent Us made that connection. It seems they have more faith than you. But they are following you.
We must get back to Jesus. That’s the last thing so many of the bishops want to do. More on that in another post about the Synod on Synodality, the Synod on Dialogue. It’s worse than I thought.
And by the way, where’s Pope Francis in all of this? I’ll tell you where he is. He’s meeting with the liturgical terrorists who support Traditionis custodes, telling them that there are terrible people out there who use the liturgy for division by supporting or not supporting, you know, like, stuff, and, you know… stuff, never naming anything one way or another, just brow beating… who… for what…? That’s impressive! Stuff! And, like…. stuff! Meanwhile, babies in the womb are attacked, Catholic churches are attacked, the Most Blessed Sacrament is attacked.
/// For my reactions after seeing the movie Tuesday night 4/12/2022, scroll to end of the post. ///
For theaters and show times just google – father stu theater near me – . For me, there’s a theater not far away on Tuesday and Wednesday of Holy Week. Chrism Mass Tuesday. So, maybe Wednesday or I’ll have to wait for the DVD. This might be the sixth movie in my life I’ve seen on the big silver screen.
Caveat: I haven’t seen this, yet. I’m not at all strict about language and violence if it fits the story and character development and isn’t simply gratuitous, and all of that is apparently fitting here, but I am super strict about any sexual content as it’s a sin to stare at that and it’s a sin to produce it. Jesus and Mary and the angels would not be pleased.
Therefore, I got hold of a friend who is super-involved in the film to see what he said about the R rating:
Father George: “I got promo stuff for Father Stu. It kept repeating it’s R rated. Whatever with cuss words or violence, just tell me there’s no erotic scenes.”
The Guy: “There’s a kiss thing but it doesn’t go further. You get the idea that they are going to get it on but don’t see it & then he goes to confession where he says he sinned but all he could think about was disappointing God. It’s implied that they had sex but not seen.”
There’s David and Bathsheba in the Scriptures. And there are so many other passages. Later, we hear about young Augustine from Saint Augustine, et cetera et alii…
Here are the accompanying letters to the poster. I’m guessing that every pastor in America got these.
(1) From the Bishop of the Diocese of Helena, Montana, where the real Father Stu (RIP) was beloved by all.
(2) Then from Mark Wahlberg, who’s the actor who plays Father Stu:
(3) Then from Lisa Wheeler, President of Carmel Communications:
It would be good to see something that treats the priesthood with respect. It would be good to see something that portrays priests who are real men.
I, for one, am sick and tired of gender confused deniers of doctrine, deniers of morality, wreckers of the spiritual life, destroyers of the Liturgy, those who, in Holy Orders, act in Persona Christi at the consecrations at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass even while insulting Jesus with their sins.
I’d like to see something that honors the man’s Man, Christ Jesus, by honoring the priesthood of Jesus Christ even in Jesus’ priests. There are good priests. I hope this does well. The liberal main stream media narrative has to be abandoned so that there’s a change in the hearts and souls of the faithful. Let’s repeat that: the narrative of the liberal bishops has to change.
I’m hoping those to the far right will chill just a little so as to rejoice in the character development of young Stuart to Father Stu, that is, toward Christ Jesus. There’s a promotion of the Sacrament of Confession. I love that. I love that a lot. It’s refreshing that Jesus is the One. You gotta admit that Jesus is otherwisenot much mentioned much in the “American Church.” This is a move in the right direction. I’m hoping that those bishops especially on far left will have fear put into them by the presentation of a priest who knows his identity in Christ Jesus. That’s the last priest they would ever want around. And – Hey! – you never know. Maybe some will rediscover their vocation, also go to confession, and put their ordination graces into action by bringing souls to the Divine Son of the Living God. That would be good, would it not?
Also, just to say, this movie also stars Mel Gibson. Mel cares very much about the priesthood and is concerned about the present state of the priesthood. He saw something in this that he knows has to enter into mainstream of Americana. He’s right. The priesthood is about Christ Jesus. Father Stu gets it.
Tuesday of Holy Week was the Chrism Mass in the Cathedral in Charlotte, well over a 400 mile round trip. More on that later, but it was an appropriate day to see “Father Stu”. On my way home I caught the evening screening down in Georgia at a tiny back-mountain-ridge in the middle-of-nowhere family theater.
First reaction: Totally credible. I recognized, could relate to, have seen before a thousand times everything in “Father Stu” for the reason that I’ve been on the teaching and formation faculties of major seminaries right around the world. Our Lord calls fallen human beings. Hint: we are all fallen. I’ve seen to my great frustration stunningly out-of-touch with reality, out-of-touch with the faith priests and religious and laity who were on the teaching and formation faculties of seminaries just as presented in the movie. Totally accurate. Did they try to vote down such as “Father Stu”? Absolutely. Did I see some make it through to be ordained anyway? Absolutely. The ones who got ordained against all odds had to be fighters, had to learn to trust entirely in the Lord.
Confession: There’s great catechesis, blatant, not hidden, super-clear about kinds of contrition and going to confession and having a firm purpose of amendment. Repeated. Really excellent. This is a movie which encourages going to confession. Great confession scenes of someone learning to go to confession later in life. Ha! I was shocked to see all this on the big silver screen. Wonderful. Anyone hesitating to go to confession that you know? Bring them to see the movie Father Stu. Ha! Have a good priest for them to go to confession to. That’s important.
About 100% of viewers will be thinking that they wish their priests were more like Father Stu.
There isn’t much subtlety in any of the film. The character development is rather extreme, leaving no room not to get the point.
Father Stu becomes a fighter in a different way, and is always a better fighter, a fighter for the Lord by the Lord’s strength, always down to earth, but developing in his friendship with the Lord for sure.
The nerdy seminarian, I forget his name, is, perhaps, the most important character in the film. He’s a caricature of all that is wrong, but has his own narrative changed by Stu as the film goes on. There quite a bit of psychodrama going on with him, all interwoven with the whole film. Fine. The prison scene portrays the state of affairs, the nerdy guy who doesn’t get “the plot” and the guy who does “get it.” There are plenty of these guys in the seminary who don’t get the plot, perhaps ever, and because of that, do untold damage. The film presents one reason for a seminarian not “getting it.” There are many. That amount of space given to the nerdy guy is geared to changing the narrative that such guys can entrench in. Maybe in seeing this film they will recognize themselves and allow themselves to get found by Christ Jesus.
The girl friend… I better let any of the women out there comment on her character development… I do think that Father Stu understood her much better than she understood herself.
The reaction in the theater: The family theater was just a stone’s throw from a parish church. I’m guessing most everyone in the theater (a good crowd by the way) were Catholic. They laughed out loud, a lot, I’m thinking because the whole film reflected reality quite accurately.
About the R-rating: Yes, plenty of bad language, mostly F-bombs, a bit jarring out of the mouth of Stu’s mother. But then you gotta know that she comes around and does get baptized along with Stu’s equally foul-mouthed dad. There’s not much violence. The “adult content” is basically not existent, just like described at the top of this post, basically nothing. The “R” rating is engineered, that is, just to get the R rating so as to get more to get tickets. Really. If it was PG not one person would see it. Get it?
After describing the film to Father Gordon, he said something I had said would make a great blog-post title:
“Self-absorbed policies of liberal-assed bishops” [Hahaha]
I laughed out loud when he described the difference between Jesus and Mary when it comes to the unrelenting ferocious cleansing of the temple. Hahahahaha. :-) Good for you, Father Altier. I love it.
This is a repost, just because…
Because he has the most succinct, clearest, direct, ferocious, charitable summaries of the abuse crisis to date. Really, really good. You’ll think for a moment that this is slightly dated now, but then it will hit you that, no, there’s a large number of the hierarchy from priests right to the top who still fit this description most precisely.
Because he’s right, of course, about dearest Immaculate Mary. Hahahahahahahaha.
So, Father Peter Williams up in Vermont was just now cancelled because he has a conscience against the abortion tainted vaccine and follows the science on masks, what with the CDC saying they’re worthless. I include below his take on authority and obedience. Great! Meanwhile, it being that I myself built a hermitage in what seems like another lifetime (and now no longer available), I very much appreciate the skills he learned in building his own mobile tiny house, pictured above. Impressive. The drawback is that it takes a truck that can tow 12,000 pounds. He started this years ago. That’s the angels at work.
Father Peter Williams on Authority and Obedience
Most Catholics have a sense that the Church is really big on authority and obedience, and that’s true. But did you know that the Church teaches that neither authority nor obedience are absolute?
People like to make almsgiving easy, you know, outsourcing their charity. I’ll give you cash, but you do the dirty work. Sometimes giving money is good, just make sure you know what going on. Giving in church can be a little too easy. Let’s see…
After seeing that great video above, you know, about non-Catholics, those prosperity gospel guys, I think of $1,200,000.00 of Peter’s Pence going to an Elton John homosexualist propaganda film.
And then I think of $200,000,000.00 going to an allegedly illegit Vatican real estate venture in London, and then something like another $200,000,000.00 going missing from the Vatican.
And then you think of – what – the bishops skimming “service fees” off veritable oceans of government (read: U.S. taxpayers) money to distribute to things like abortion clinics or sex and human trafficking right around the world through – what – Catholic Campaign for Human Development, Catholic Relief Services, Catholic Charities.
Whatever with the “prosperity churches”. Their gluttony has nothing on the greed that comes at the price of the murder of the least of the brethren. There is no argument that can make any of that good.
I recall a scene in, I think, Malcolm Muggeridge’s film on Mother Teresa of Calcutta, when a guy walked up to her to give her something like a million dollars, and she refused it. She said that it’s too much work for her sisters to spend this money even if all for the poor, and that he should do it himself, that is, he himself should actually do something for someone instead of outsourcing his charity. Ha! And when I was in Byculla district of Mumbai at the Missionaries of Charity living in the tuberculous ward,
People like to say, “I gave at the office,” whether they did or not. That usually refers to United Way. Sometimes, it’s all about braggadocio:
“My company is in competition with the business across the street for how much we raised average per employee for United Way, and we put that on signs out front, changing the signs every day. By the way, did you give, yet?”
When I was a young seminarian, when my dad was still alive, I wrote a letter to the editor of our home town paper, signing my name, of course. I share my name with my dad, who had been the mayor and leading attorney of the town, known by everyone, and so asked his blessing before I hand-delivered it to the editorial page editor’s desk. He did give me his blessing, saying how proud he was of me. He knew that this could get me thrown out of the seminary, but you gotta do the right thing. As he said: “Goodness and kindness, George, goodness and kindness.” Dad’s goodness and kindness dealt with charity, not being nice.
The problem was that 90+% of United Way donations came from Catholics because those were the demographics of the region. So the Catholic Bishop was on the board of United Way. Well, United Way was giving monies to Lutheran Social Services which offered abortion referrals and, I think, rides to abortion clinics. And there was a second recipient involved in some way with nefarious anti-life matters. The bishop and others were saying that anything like that doesn’t matter because monies also went to adoptions, etc. In my letter to the editor I condemned the High Priest Caiaphas’ moral principle that it is better for these aborted babies to die with United Way monies so that some facilitated adoptions might take place. I say, “Do the adoptions, but don’t fund abortion.” The message couldn’t have clearer.
The United Way collection that year plummeted to almost nothing.
I was public enemy number one for the bishop. He couldn’t do anything with me then, since, obviously, everyone agreed with me. But after years he attempted to get his revenge at a bishops conference. He sat next to my own bishop for lunch. He took the opportunity to attack yours truly. Imagine, he was carrying that for years. In any other case I would have been tossed out of the seminary. This story was told to me by my own bishop. God bless him. He didn’t hold it against me.
It is possible to do the right thing. You’re not ever forced to do the wrong thing, even if you’re killed for it. No one can force you to do the wrong thing. You can be at joyful peace in doing the right thing, for Jesus.
BUSINESS: Jesus speaks to the simple fact of corruption in business in the parable of the dishonest businessman (see Luke 16:8). High performance, zero trustworthiness. Kind of reminds me “Cardinal” MaCarrick, whose perspective was fed by his position in the Church. More peacock than servant. He was able to come up with money to impress his admirers. As the USCCB says about just about everything: perception is the be all and end all of all morality.
DevGru: Meanwhile, the SEALs, the ultimate high-performance operators, are trying to stay alive. While they do value performance, they’re willing to compromise a bit on that so as be assured of absolute trust.
CIA: I suppose they see themselves as realists, having it that they only trust a guy who has a price at which he cannot be trusted. They cannot trust a guy who is loyal to principles. That could be a what you say (no one is actually loyal to anything or anyone) is what you are fulfillment of a childhood mantra. Perhaps they’ve been burnt too many times by those they thought were exceptionally good people. I don’t know.
Priesthood: Judas betrayed Jesus. Peter denied Jesus. All the others ran away when it came to the crunch. Judas never returned. John came back to Calvary straight away. Peter and rest became martyrs for Jesus.
What’s the perception, as the bishops say? The priesthood is not trusted, usually because of low performance in being with the Lord’s Little Flock, for Communion Calls, for Confessions, for Last Rites. And because of that, few can be trusted. Meanwhile, some priests think that performance means good collections for the chancery, or for evil Catholic Charities, Catholic Relief Services and Catholic Campaign for Human Development. How do you trust Peter’s Pence when it invests in Elton John movies, or in awkward real estate deals, or allegedly just lets that money be embezzled?
Jesus took us deadly serious. He wants us to be deadly serious with Him. He wants us to witness to the absolute truth of His love, standing in our place as He did, innocent for the guilty, taking on the punishment for sin we deserve so that He would have the right in His own justice to have mercy on us, with the mercy founded on that justice, making the mercy majestic, awesome.
We were cynical. Can it be that we can trust in His mercy? If we see His wounds, we say yes. But we often look away, and say that God is just a figment of our abstract imaginations out in outer-space some where. We gotta be the Thomas, and put our fingers into His wounds, our hands into His side, His Heart, after rising from the dead: “My Lord and my God.”
But a lot of people aren’t at that point. They only see the priests and bishops who are in front of them, and become cynical. Here’s the deal, when it all gets too intense, people are going to test us as they tested Jesus. Firstly a little marginalization, a little making life hell, but even unto death. Is all this about Jesus really true? Is there love? Is there truth? We don’t see much of it in this world. “Tell me it’s true!” They have a right to know. Jesus bled out for us. And rose from the dead. If that’s not a witness that’s being given, people have a right to try to make that witnessing happen.
People aren’t going to bother McCarrick for such witness. Why bother?
People are going to go to priests and laity who have been witnessing all the time, but they are so frantic for good witness that they will push it all the more. This is when we start to see torture and death. It’s happened everywhere and continuously, whatever culture, people, tribe, tongue or nation.
I’ll tell you what: that kind of witnessing, unto dead, is fast coming where it has not already arrived. People are not receiving proper witness to Jesus wounds. They’ve lost trust. Now they want to see the ultimate performance. But it seems that every single day, multiple times a day, we are smashed down by the religious powers that be:
Worship demon-idol Pachamama
You’re mandated to get the abortion-tainted murder-suicide “vaccine”
LGBTQI+ whatever alphabet mockery of God must have civil protection
Jesus’ marriage with the Church by His wedding vows (my Body given over for you and my blood poured out for you in Sacrifice) is to be mocked with lesbian women-priests
Confessions and Last Rites are forbidden by priests who don’t have the “vaccine”
Absolutions must be given to those who are unrepentant, encouraging them to go to Holy Communion
The traditional Sacrifice of the Mass must be held to be invalid as no expression at all of the Latin Rite.
On and on it goes. How to regain real trust and the actual exercise of the priestly ministry in all integrity and honesty? Lot’s of prayer. But, I think, also through a persecution.
Coalition for Canceled Priests – The opportunity to purchase property has been given to the Coalition. They are entrusting this to St. Joseph and if this is the will of God they know that the proper donors will come forward. This property will be a place for canceled priests to live, go on retreat, and be a place of spiritual rest. email@example.com – Fr. John P. Lovell
It’s like every day that I hear of another (arch)diocese where un-“vaccinated” priests are being smashed down and cancelled, forbidden to provide the Sacraments to the Lord’s Little Flock. This is full-on atheistic communism. Priests were being cancelled before this “crisis” for all sorts of reasons, like just being honest to goodness believers.
Meanwhile, for over 27 years as of this writing, one of the most ultra-super-cancelled priests I know is Father Gordon MacRae, who singlehandedly tried to stop the abuse-crisis the way it has played out until this day with the bishops saying “We’ll pay settlements without any question, with no due process for the priest, as long as we bishop-friends of McCarrick are considered heroes!” He’s a priest after our Lord’s own Heart.