Sunday Mass

 

You pull up to Mission #2, not far at all from Belle Starr's onetime ranch/hideout, and what do you see? Nothing fancy, just a couple of lines of pick ups, a horse trailer and a lowish church built in the 1980s in an act of faith on the part of people who retired from the Metrosprawl to live by the lake. They're mostly gone now, bless 'em. But what do you find inside?

The few readers of this unassuming mind-blog would be shocked. No guitar playing nuns, no wymxn priestesses, no rainbow flags, no felt applique banners, not even any liturgical dance. What you do get is an oriented sung Mass, Rite I (think Ordinariate style, all you RC trads), with traditional hymns. And here's the thing, the singing was led by a couple of ex-Baptist women.

I tell you, it was good, and I don't say that lightly. Imagine, if you can, Amazing Grace at the Offertory on a Loretta Lynn tip. Here's Miss Lynn:

High on a mountain top? You bet. In related news, I called our Senior Warden after Mass, "Hey, J, I haven't ridden for four years and feel it's time to get back on. Can you recommend someone to give me remedial lessons? You know, leads, asking for gaits the right way and all of that." She thought about it for a second or two, "Sure! Come out this week and ride with us, we'll find you a horse."

Now, pundits, mark me well. This is equivalent to, say, a pub guitarist calling up Jimmy Page and saying, "Hey man, is it OK if I jam with you and Eric Clapton?" You know, to get better on the guitar, and he replies, "You bet, swing by the studio sometime this week, Roy Harper's gonna be there too. He needs help."

J in the Zone and then some

Wow, what good people we have in this little country church, where the Word of God is preached and taught and the Sacraments confected. There's hope and no inconsiderable uplift in that and I feel privileged to serve here. Stay tuned for equestrian adventure.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Funeral

 

The funeral went well, with cowboys and cowgirls from all over the country descending on Waco to pay their respects. Quite a thing. I told them a short story in the homily, which went something like this.

Bud didn't suffer fools gladly though he was always good to me, and sometimes in a tough way. A few years ago I was laid up in bed with a broken femur, thanks to a mad Arab, and called Bud on Saturday to see if he'd lined up a priest to cover the Mass on Sunday.

"No," he replied. "Why not?" I asked, "Because you're going to do it." Not wanting to seem like a wimp I rolled up to church on a walker the next day and said the Mass. S took a photo and made a meme; there I was at the Altar on a walker with him alongside. And the legend? "When an old cowboy bullies the priest into saying Mass with a broken leg." We laughed but he was right, got me moving again.

 

And that was Bud. What a good man. We had a lot of fun over the years, mostly at church, where we'd go back and forth, "I'm going riding after Mass," I'd tell him, "Huh. Don't fall off." Well, you can't take that lying down, "Don't worry, if things get tippy there's always the pommel thing." A moment of silence, "We call it a saddle horn."

Again, "Why don't you genuflect anymore?" I'd ask. "Because I don't have any kneecaps," straighteye stare, "Maybe you're just a dangerous Protestant." He was, you understand, a faithful High Churchman and a catholic Christian. To say nothing of an outstanding athlete and really good man.

But I won't bang on. Rest in peace, my friend, and thank you all for your prayers.

God bless,

LSP

Party

 

What a great night. Good, honest, straight-up, friendly people, tasty food, plenty of drink and a lone busker to boot. 

He was out of Nashville, he told me, and I tipped him for the tale. The rest of the crew were rodeo stars, cattlemen, judges and all else in between. The occasion?

A church couple's 40th wedding anniversary. I listened away to stories of "out of Cheyenne," and "blood was spilling out of her shoe after a horse span on her toe. So we took her to ER and I cut the toe out of her boot and she was racing barrels the next day." All very Florence Nightingale. Thanks, MC.

With that, a glass raised and a salute to LSP, "He's got a story too, tell him about your hip!" Three screws in the upper femur and an Arab later the tale was told, and kudos to me, badly damaged by a horse like everyone else in the room. But whatever.

Such a good evening, and here's the thing. These people are not demonstrative, politically. They consider it bad manners, but I'll tell you this, they are mighty pissed about the state of the nation. Let the reader understand.

Ride on,

LSP

Make His Paths Straight

Being a Parson, I get to preach every Sunday and I tend to stick to the Gospel, while occasionally lashing out at pansexuaists, Libs, Hippies, Marxists, Hitlerites, Illuminati pagans, big government, Bilderberger NWO shills, and assorted progleft enemies. Sometimes General Lee gets an honorable mention, along with Charles Martel and other heroes. Go figure.

Blue Tours

But there was none of that today. I just stuck to the Gospel, which featured John the Baptist, crying out in the wilderness against wickedness. Like Isaiah, preparing the "way of the Lord," making "his paths straight."

But what are the ways by which a thing makes its "path" to us? I suggested that the basic paths in question were fourfold. Viz. Senses, Affections, Intellect, Actions, and when these are blocked and twisted by evil, God can't reach us. So, we have to hear the Baptizer, and clear and straighten the paths through repentance in order for God to make his home in us.

I used lots of examples to illustrate the theme; I thought it was pretty clear. Nothing deep, or even controversial, although I did blast adultery. Then during the Peace, my MC, who's a former rodeo star (world Bronc Champion several years running), asked, "Padre, was there a point to that sermon?" 

Ride More, LSP

He's a good BS barometer and a great horseman, so I looked him in the eye and said, "I think you need to repent." I rode one of his horses the other year around some barrels only to learn afterwards that the animal was worth... a lot. It was like being on a living Ferrari.

In other exciting church news, the ladies of one of the Missions have taken to feeding Blue Armageddon kolaches at Coffee Hour. I rebuke them but they pay no attention.

Things are obviously spinning out of control.

LSP

Horsing Around

Some of my parishioners are afraid I'll come off the horse(s) and die. "Don't go so fast, Padre!" they say. They are serious horse people.

Parishioner

I reply, "Don't worry, if things get tippy I'll just hold onto the pommel thing." 

"Saddle horn," they reply.

Grace Slick

Walk, trot, canter, gallop, run!

Arm the Kurds.

LSP

Front Office Rodeo

Not that you'd know it from browsing through this "site" but Lonestarparsonism does involve some work. There's the pastoralia that any clergyman should be about and the daily affair of running two missions. I say Morning Prayer ('28 BCP) then set up on the front porch with laptop, phone, coffee and gun. Then streams of people come by; I find that far more gets done that way than by skulking off, out of sight, at a desk. A lot of priests seem to do that and I'm not sure why. Perhaps they're scared of the people which is unfortunate, given the nature of the calling.

But it's not all about taking care of business on the front porch office. Sometimes it's about going to Waco for rodeo events.

Catch

These pictures didn't come out too well but maybe they give an idea of the speed and intensity of the thing. I enjoy the broncs and barrel racing - remarkable to watch the women run around the barrels then fly for the finish. 

Bronc

Then there's bull riding. A whole different level of dangerous and mad; there's that moment when the rider's on the ground and the bull's surging like fury. Where are the hooves going to land? Get away! Jaw dropping. 

Champion Team Ropers

Big thanks to Bud for the box tickets. Makes me want to ride Western. 

God bless,

LSP

Good Time Had By All

Had a great time at a parishioner's place the other evening, there was plenty of land and an interestingly twisted tree.

A cacophany of pick-ups

Delicious BBQ and an all round good time thanks to the hospitality of Bud & Jimmie Monroe both of whom are one time rodeo champs (bronc & barrel riding) but now do something with cattle and, happily for me, support the Church. They're also supporting a colony of hogs who're swinishly breaking into the acreage to root about along a creek bed, so they'll be baited and brought to BBQ justice - but first I have to go to Anaheim to write about the General Convention of The Episcopal Church (TEC). Nightmarish prospect and an unwelcome hiatus from the riding and shooting regimen, still, duty calls.

More anon.

LSP

PS. Check out the excellent Rabbit Stew for a good riff on the perniciously Manichean PETA.