Holy Tuesday

 

So here we are in Holy Week, on our journey to the Cross and from there to the new life of the empty tomb, of resurrection. Part of this journey, for me, meant climbing into a mileage car this morning and driving from Dallas HQ to a place called "Bedford." 

No kidding. Nav out to Hampton, take a left on Singleton, behold the beat up ghetto strip malls as you do, then take a right on Mockingbird and wonder and its several rent-by-the-hour motels. 

You don't stop there, no, you ride on through to the I35/183 turn off. Be careful, it's a racetrack as you rev up the Civic and move hell for leather into the 183 aspect of this route. After that? Pretty much straight shot 'til you get to this place called "Bedford" and exit the highway onto Forest. And there you are, in Mid Cities suburbia, which is where our cathedral is.

Highway purgatory over, roll into the parking lot and go to Mass, our diocesan Chrism Mass or Mass of Collegiality. I was late, so didn't vest, but joined the clergy for the renewal of our ordination vows and at the Altar for the Eucharistic Prayer. Powerful stuff, and what a good, faithful body of men, always a pleasure to be with them. So what have we here?

The Cross, by way of Metrosprawl traffic, and Resurrection with a beautiful Mass and the good priests of our diocese. So there you have it. Safely back at Ma LSP's Compound, all's peaceful and in good order, and you'll be pleased to know she's watching some kind of show detailing the jewels of the Romanovs in their female aspect. Yes, they were spectacular.

On topic, do you think our current Bioleninist politics of envy and spite, aka socialism, started with the French Revolution? Perhaps so, though I'd argue the poison seed goes back to Luther, but that's me, we can parse the wicked Age of Enlightenment, see Age of the Raison, and its iniquitous fallout forever. Have at it.

In the meanwhile, we've got a war to win. D'ye reckon Don can pull it off? Money, as always, on the dam monkey.

Yours,

LSP

What A Good Day

 

Just a quick drive down I35W to the hideous metrosprawl that is Fort Worth and our suburban cathedral, St. Vincent's. St. Vincent's is in a place called Bedford, which isn't far from Hurst or Arlington, and we call it the "Mid Cities." 

Once, many years ago, I made an oath, "I shall never live in a plastic sided suburb." God had other thoughts but He's been kind; the Compound's hardly suburban and its sides are made of wood instead of plastic. Regardless, I ventured forth into the Metrosprawl for our Chrism Mass.

Glad I did. What a great crew of fellow clergy who uphold the Faith and do their best to live it. Fun people, too. Still, the event was in the midst of the appalling 'sprawl, so it took a bit of time to dig out from that and back to the civilization of the Compound.

In related news, our diocese tells us we aren't supposed to make "political posts" on social media. Such wisdom and what can I say, Zu Befehl? You'll notice, dear friends, that one of the beauties of the Fourth Reich, the Space Reich, is that you're invisible. Black uniforms, you see.

Ad Astra,

LSP

Chrism Mass

Iker

I took a break from exotic game hunting to go to this morning's Chrism Mass at our cathedral, St. Vincent's, in Bedford; Bedford is a kind of suburb of Fort Worth. The Episcopal Church (TEC), which is suing our diocese for daring to say no to gay marriage, is keen to get its pink mitts on the cathedral. 

Pyrrhus

It'll be a Pyrrhic victory if they do. Millions of dollars spent on lawsuits to get an empty church, to say nothing of the moral downside.

Judas Betrays

Regardless of that, Bishop Iker preached an excellent sermon on the Last Supper, reminding us of our Lord's statement that one of those eating with Him would betray Him. "Is it I, Lord?" they asked. Apparently every one of them considered themselves capable of the crime. I'll leave you to draw the personal application, and the solution? Our Lord's Mandatum, to love one another as He loved us, acted out in the parabolic washing of feet. Powerful medicine against the snake pit of wickedness.

On that note, you may be glad to know I made my Confession. Not before time... all should, some must...

Blessed Holy Week,

LSP