All Souls - New Gun

 

A friend gave me his old, rusting, neglected barn gun today, a Remington 870. It was a mess but the bore was clean enough, so I took the beast home and applied Hoppe's and a bore brush.

Filthy Gopping Mess

You should've seen the rust liquefy off, what a nasty, minging, filthy mess. But what a good result in the end, a clean gun, ready to shoot and do battle against the avian adversary and their clay simulacra.

A Clean Gun Is A Happy Gun

That in mind, say a prayer for the repose of the soul of Ronnie Storrs, it was his gun and he wasn't above using it on people who made the foolish mistake of messing about on his land unannounced.  Well, may he rest in peace and may his 870 find a place in the Compound's armory.

#2A

Have a blessed Feast of All Souls and as always,

Gun Rights.

LSP

Rest in Peace

 

I know this jingoistic and shallow mind blog's mostly about the glory that was the British Empire, rodeo and the perfidy of the Left, but step back and consider this excerpt from a sermon preached by Austin Farrer at the end of World War II:

‘May they rest in peace, and may light perpetual shine upon them’ - those millions among whom our friends are lost, those millions for whom we cannot choose but pray; because prayer is a sharing in the love of the heart of God, and the love of God is earnestly set towards the salvation of his spiritual creatures, by, through and out of the fire that purifies them. 

The arithmetic of death perplexes our brains. What can we do but throw ourselves upon the infinity of God? It is only to a finite mind that number is an obstacle, or multiplicity a distraction. Our mind is like a box of limited content, out of which one thing must be emptied before another can find a place. The universe of creatures is queuing for a turn of our attention, and no appreciable part of the queue will ever get a turn. But no queue forms before the throne of everlasting mercy, because the nature of an infinite mind is to be simply aware of everything that is. 

Everything is simply present to an infinite mind, because it exists; or rather, exists because it is present to that making mind. And though by some process of averaging and calculation I should compute the grains of sand, it would be like the arithmetic of the departed souls, an empty sum; I could not tell them as they are told in the infinity of God’s counsels, each one separately present as what it is, and simply because it is. 

The thought God gives to any of his creatures is not measured by the attention he can spare, but by the object for consideration they can supply. God is not divided; it is God, not a part of God, who applies himself to the falling sparrow, and to the crucified Lord. But there is more in the beloved Son than in the sparrow, to be observed and loved and saved by God. So every soul that has passed out of this visible world, as well as every soul remaining within it, is caught and held in the unwavering beam of divine care. And we may comfort ourselves for our own inability to tell the grains of sand, or to reckon the thousands of millions of the departed. 

And yet we cannot altogether escape so; for our religion is not a simple relation of every soul separately to God, it is a mystical body in which we are all members one of another. And in this mystical body it does not suffice that every soul should be embraced by the thoughts of God; it has also to be that every soul should, in its thought, embrace the other souls. For apart from this mutual embracing, it would be unintelligible why we should pray at all, either for the living or for the departed. Such prayer is nothing but the exercising of our membership in the body of Christ. God is not content to care for us each severally, unless he can also, by his Holy Spirit in each one of us, care through and in us for all the rest. Every one of us is to be a focus of that divine life of which the attractive power holds the body together in one. 

So even in the darkness and blindness of our present existence, our thought ranges abroad and spreads out towards the confines of the mystical Christ, remembering the whole Church of Christ, as well militant on earth as triumphant in heaven; invoking angels, archangels and all the spiritual host.

I came across it while preparing an obit and found it helpful, I hope you do too. Farrer was a genius and a holy man.

God bless,

LSP

Churchill's Funeral

Rest in Peace,

LSP

All Saints & Souls

You've probably been far too busy with the noble sport of unicorn hunting to get to church, but that's a mistake. You see, there's been a lot of feasting. On Wednesday we celebrated the Feast of All Saints and on Thursday the Feast of All Souls.

Powerful stuff, eh? And let's not hear any nonsense about "idolatry" or "soul sleep." Think instead of the miraculous efficacy of the prayers the saints, not least the Virgin Mary who destroyed the Moslem Sea Jihad at Lepanto. Well done, Rosary, you work.

May the Saints intercede for us and the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.

God bless,

LSP

Rest in Peace

I said a Requiem for a friend and strong churchman today. He was a good man, and I don't say that lightly, who'd fought cancer for 4 years, a brain tumor no less. 

That in itself is something of a miracle and, if anything, the disease seemed to make his faith stronger. Sorry, problem of evil "philosophers." Also, until the very end he was able to live an active life; I thank God for that.

I can also say, with confidence, that he'd made his peace with God before he died, which is no small thing.

So, may JA rest in peace and rise in glory. And all you many heathen that read this lighthearted blog, reflect on this. What god do you worship and what hope does it give or offer you.

The world, the flesh? With no thought for eternity? And what comes after those two objects of adoration. Oh yes, the Devil.

I'll resist the temptation to refer you to John Podesta and the ravening elitocracy that seeks to devour the whole world.

May the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace.

Sure and certain hope.

LSP

All Saints, All Souls

The Church celebrated the Feasts of All Saints and All Souls this week; some Christians find this strange and wrong. They think that asking the intercession of the saints is unnecessary at best and idolatrous at worst. The same thing applies, for them, to prayers for the departed.

They believe that the dead, saintly or otherwise, are sleeping "under the heavenly altar" and even if they weren't their prayers are redundant because Christ is the "only mediator" between man and God.

But what about the two great Jewish Saints, Moses and Elijah, who talked with Christ on the Mount of Transfiguration? They weren't sleep-talking now, were they. Neither are any of the holy men and women who have left this life for the next, and so we ask for their prayers just as we would ask the same from a holy person here on earth. This doesn't detract from Our Lord's mediation but reinforces it.

SMOM

Likewise for the departed, we pray for them as we would for anyone else. Idolatry? Hardly and don't get me wrong, I'm not some kind of comsymp lefty, but perhaps we need to look elsewhere for the Golden Calf of our troubled age - money, perhaps.

Jean Vianney

Jean Vianney, the Cure D'Ars, is the Patron Saint of parish priests. He abhorred dancing, which was a problem in rural France, and lead a life of remarkable austerity, eating little more than a potato a day. Vianney was often afflicted by Satan, who would drag his bed across the room while shouting "old potato eater!" Hundreds of thousands of people traveled to Ars to make their confession to him. A remarkable man who worked out his salvation in the fear and trembling proscribed by St. Paul.

Saints intercede for us. Faithful souls, rest in peace.

LSP

All Souls

Have a blessed Feast of All Souls. Some disagree with praying for the departed and asking for their prayers because they think it idolatry. Others think it pointless; I think I need all the help I can get. S0,

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine

Every blessing,

LSP

PS. Just heard from pratsinpower that we're to have some beasts called 'Play Rangers' to look after the children. Enough to make me reach for m'gun - or several.