Viva

 

Years ago, back before the TSA existed and life seemed simpler even on the Maryland ghetto side of the DC border, I prayed fervently for a voluntary Spanish speaking assistant priest. No small order but lo and behold, a man turned up and built up a mighty south of the border congregation. It was a big thing, literally, and the hideously lib TEC diocese couldn't shut us down because racism and all of that.

By way of example, bishop figure John Chane tipped up for an, ahem, episcopal visit in my last year there, complete with a seminarian from VTS (Virginia Theological School) seminary. Of course the young man was wearing a bow tie (What? Yes, it's true) and asked me superciliously if "we had any programs" while I was setting up the High Altar.

"No," I replied, adjusting a missal stand, "I don't think we do." Bow tie sneered at my recidivist High Churchmanship and sat down in a pew, waiting for Mass. And then the church started to fill up and there was VTS boy sandwiched between several crews of homies and cabrón all 'round. He seemed rather scared, sensibly; you'll forgive my welcoming grin.

I tell you, after 35 confirmations there we were at the end of the Mass, singing the Regina Coeli at the Guadalupe shrine at the back of the church, six deep and standing room only my friends. You see, they couldn't drop the rainbow boot on such a thing, the fighting monkey waxed too strong.

Fast forward to today. Again, I've been praying for a Spanish speaking assistant priest/clergyman and what's happened? The diocese, in its abundant generosity, has sent one, a deacon and a good man. We'll hold our first Spanish Mass at Mission #1 on Sunday, the Feast of Christ the King.

In the meanwhile, I'm furiously practicing liturgical Spanish and would appreciate your prayers.

Viva Cristo Rey,

LSP

Tree Logic

We're doing some building work at the Missions. Putting a new roof on one church, repairing the roof on another, fixing an out of control tree problem and repainting the HQ. One roof's been sorted out and a tree crew arrived this morning with a cherry picker, provoking a furious response from Blue Sentinel.

I took the dog for a walk to the local Pick 'n Steal so I could get a coffee and the tree gang could get on with their work. What sort of trees should we plant to replace the dead ones that are being taken down? I asked myself, as I sipped my coffee, while the dog stood guard against any life-threatening squirrels, cats, birds or mail trucks.

Typically, in this town, when trees are removed they're not replaced, giving our rural farming community's center a desolate, parade square, car park blasted by the sun look. That's unfortunate, because trees give needed shade in the fierce Texan summer. They look good, too.

Back at the Compound, I found the tree experts staring forlornly at their idle machinery. At what point, we have to ask, is technology  indistinguishable from magic?

Stay tuned for more, as this exciting story develops.

Chainsaws,

LSP

Mad Peacock

After the first Mass of the day we all gathered in the parish hall for "coffee hour," and the talk was mostly about bobcats and goats. Then we were interrupted by an unearthly noise.

It sounded like some kind of alien being, high and crazy, but it was just a mad peacock. Up in a tree.

I'll be going out on a bobcat hunt later this evening.

Keep living the dream,

LSP