Corpus Christi Storm

 

Thunder rumbled like a celestial artillery barrage as the heavens opened and rain lashed down with cascading fury. Seriously, climate change got real and I had to pull over to the side of the road on the way to Mass. Clearly Hill County had forgotten to pay its carbon tax.

But maybe Bosque had because it was clear skies and sunny southern weather once you got over the dam which blocks the mighty Brazos, creating Lake Whitney. A great place to fish, for sure, and a good place to celebrate the Mass to boot, not far from one of Belle Starr's hideouts.

A typical Texas Storm

I keep meaning to visit what's left of her small 100 acre ranch, which once played host to the James Gang and other bushwhackers turned outlaw. All in good time, but in the meanwhile it's Corpus Christi, so here's a prayer.

Deus, qui nobis sub Sacramento mirabili Passionis tuae memoriam reliquisti; tribue, quaesumus, ita nos Corporis et Sanguinis tui sacra mysteria venerari, ut redemptionis tuae fructum in nobis iugiter sentiamus: Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

 

And in English:

O God, who under a wonderful Sacrament hast left us a memorial of Thy Passion; grant us, we beseech Thee, so to venerate the sacred mysteries of Thy Body and Blood, that we may ever feel within ourselves the fruit of Thy Redemption: Thou who livest and reignest forever and ever. Amen.

 

Powerful prayers and do you think that a nation, people or persons who openly mock God will somehow escape the storm of his judgement?

O Salutaris,

LSP

On The Road

 

On The Road. Did you know that infamous Beat author Jack Kerouac was a Catholic Christian? So was Andy Warhol too, but that's a different story. Studio 54 aside, I climbed in the rig, got on the road and headed West to say Mass.

The church was quiet and beautiful in the evening light while Christ came down to earth to lift us up to heaven, O Salutaris, and time stood strangely still as it always does when we worship God, not least in the Sacrament of the Altar. Then all too soon, "The Mass has ended, go in peace to love and serve the Lord." Ite Missa Est. 

Back in the car park the sun was setting over Texas, no small thing, and I sent the record of it to an old friend who finds himself in LA doing something with pop music. "Look!" I whatsapped, "Sunset. Hope your musicians are behaving themselves." 

Apparently they were, "Big empty production stage. Phase 1 rehearsals. Secret location. All chilled here. Easy. STAY FROSTY." Always. Then back on the road to the Compound with the sun filling the rear-view with its golden radiance. I never tire of the vision and thank God for it, seriously, and therein lies a word to the wise.

Try and make a habit, a discipline of thanking God for the beyond reckoning good that he's given us. Perhaps it's easier to see in the countryside, where creation's comparatively less marred by wickedness than in, say, the DFW metrosprawl. But wherever you are the rule applies, and when followed covers a multitude of sins.

Here Endeth The Lesson,

LSP

Stations & Benediction

So what's up, LSP? You ask, in that questioning way. Well I'll tell you. I drove to Dallas in ferocious highway rain to give a Lenten sermon in that space between Stations of the Cross and Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.

Get a Haircut

It was good to get out and I like the church and its people. My theme (set by the Rector) was, "Give us this day our daily bread." I was pleased to talk about that, and they're a good crew at St. Matthias, Dallas.

O Salutaris

Somehow, "deadly assault rifle" got into my sermon. Unlike "fire and movement." Must work on that.

Homiletic skills,

LSP