A Short Sunday Sermon

 

It's the last Sunday of Epiphany and, in the newfangled lectionary, we're presented with Christ's transfiguration on Mount Tabor. There the veil is lifted and we see Jesus shine with divine radiance. Then, as the cloud of God's glory descends upon Tabor as it did on Sinai, the Father speaks, "This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased; listen to him."

I won't preach but  perhaps you'll find St. Gregory the Great helpful:

The Lord reveals his glory in the presence of chosen witnesses. His body is like that of the rest of mankind, but he makes it shine with such splendor that his face becomes like the sun in glory, and his garments as white as snow.

The great reason for this transfiguration was to remove the scandal of the cross from the hearts of his disciples, and to prevent the humiliation of his voluntary suffering from disturbing the faith of those who had witnessed the surpassing glory that lay concealed.

With no less forethought he was also providing a firm foundation for the hope of holy Church. The whole body of Christ was to understand the kind of transformation that it would receive as his gift. The members of that body were to look forward to a share in that glory which first blazed out in Christ their head.

The Lord had himself spoken of this when he foretold the splendor of his coming: Then the just will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Saint Paul the apostle bore witness to this same truth when he said: I consider that the sufferings of the present time are not to be compared with the future glory that is to be revealed in us. In another place he says: You are dead, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, your life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.

This marvel of the transfiguration contains another lesson for the apostles, to strengthen them and lead them into the fullness of knowledge. Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets, appeared with the Lord in conversation with him. This was in order to fulfill exactly, through the presence of these five men [Moses, Elijah, Peter, James, and John], the text which says: Before two or three witnesses every word is ratified. What word could be more firmly established, more securely based, than the word which is proclaimed by the trumpets of both old and new testaments, sounding in harmony, and by the utterances of ancient prophecy and the teaching of the Gospel, in full agreement with each other?

The writings of the two testaments support each other. The radiance of the transfiguration reveals clearly and unmistakably the one who had been promised by signs foretelling him under the veils of mystery. As Saint John says: The law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. In him the promise made through the shadows of prophecy stands revealed, along with the full meaning of the precepts of the law. He is the one who teaches the truth of prophecy through his presence, and makes obedience to the commandments possible through grace.

In the preaching of the holy Gospel all should receive a strengthening of their faith. No one should be ashamed of the cross of Christ, through which the world has been redeemed.

No one should fear to suffer for the sake of justice; no one should lose confidence in the reward that has been promised. The way to rest is through toil, the way to life is through death. Christ has taken on himself the whole weakness of our lowly human nature. If then we are steadfast in our faith in him and in our love for him, we win the victory that he has won, we receive what he has promised.

When it comes to obeying the commandments or enduring adversity, the words uttered by the Father should always echo in our ears: This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased; listen to him.

Listen to him. Yes indeed, and in doing so ascend the holy mountain on whose peak we rest in the beatific vision, ourselves transfigured by the light of Christ.

God bless,

LSP

Get Back

 

There it was, the urban glory of WC1, and then the nightmare that is Heathrow's Terminal Three. This used to be vaguely congenial, I recall, but presents itself now as some kind of psychotic night club in a bus station sponsored by Hermes, Gucci and Tissot. 

Nightmare? Yes, but word to the wise, you can buy an airplane book at WH Smiths and a surprisingly cheap sandwich at the Boots pharmacy franchise for £1.50. I bought several, along with Nial Gaiman's Neverwhere and headed through the madding crowd to Gate 36.

The sandwiches were tasty, bizarrely, Neverwhere entertaining and the flight easy and fast, getting into DFW an hour early. What can I say, an exception which proved the rule. And then touchdown on the DFW runway and there we were, home. A taxi ride later I was back in the sylvan idyll of Winnetka Heights, Dallas, and a warm welcome from Ma LSP, "Champagne?" Most assuredly yes.

So that was that, a successful recce patrol across the Atlantic and back to Texas, safe and sound. Lessons learned? Don't lose your phone and bank card after carousing at the jolly old NatLib, do go to Mass at the excellent St. Peter's London Docks and while you're at it, spare a thought for Turner's Old Star 'round the corner from the church, well worth the visit.

In other news, CONUS is being attacked by balloons in a vicious act of asymmetrical warfare, the Scottish National Party (SNP) is in tranny turmoil and the dear old Church of England's gone even gayer than it was already, which is saying something.

Get back,

LSP

On To Ludlow

 

All too soon it was time to leave the rain washed, windswept streets of the Athens of the North and the comfort of the Royal Scots and head to Ludlow. I rode the rails to this charming market town, once home to the Council of the Marches and a key defensive point against savage Welsh raiders.

Today the town's less about beating back the ferocious Welsh and recalcitrant nobility and more about butchers, bakers, fishmongers, green grocers, outstanding late Medieval and Georgian architecture and... pubs. We liked the Blue Boar, with its fire and mostly peaceful ambiance.

And walking too. If you go to this gem of a border town, take time to stroll around the castle, the river and, if you're feeling adventurous, climb up into the hills above the town. I asked my friends if there were bears in the woods, apparently there aren't, but we did see a large buzzard which reminded me of home. As did a view of the Malverns, which I used to be able to see from my bedroom window as teenager in Cheltenham. Memories.

Speaking of which, on the last day there, my old boss MCP drove over to visit at the Blue Boar. Onetime poacher turned gamekeeper in the IT world of the '90s and '00s, he's become an author and published a book to critical acclaim in Dublin. It's called Long Lost Log and details his adventures sailing across the Atlantic as crew in an eccentric "thoroughbred" of a boat in 1974. What a lot of fun to meet up.

So well done MCP and big thanks to S&K for great Shropshire hospitality. And now? Back to London for a few days before heading home to Texas.

Cheers,

LSP

Edinburgh Rambling

 

You see, the thing about Edinburgh is that it's this great little town, country but ritzy with it. And I tell you, more restaurants than you can shake a stick at. But that's as maybe, go exploring and see what the town's really about.

About passages or alleyways, apparently, which they call "closes," and their terminus in "courts."  Now we know and so do you if you go off the beaten path in Edinburgh's Old Town. This, by the way, was a right medieval warren of a place back in the day. 

It's less so now, perhaps on account of Old Town's Quality moving to New Town in the 18th C. This, readers, is perhaps the finest Georgian set of buildings anywhere on the planet and, to be fair, it is beautiful if windswept.

In related news, many witches were burned here and some Scots MP wants them pardoned. A barrister pal questions this, "Should Major Weir be pardoned?" Good question, eh? Well, he's waiting for an answer. In the meanwhile, the venerable if shrinking COE's gone pretty much full gay. 

Good luck with that, 

LSP

Great Result

 

"So where've you been, so-called 'LSP'?" you mutter askance. That's a very good question and the answer's simple, in the UK. Object being to take two Sundays off and have some fun in the Sceptered Isle. So far so good with a week in London and attendant serious clubbing, let the reader understand, and now Edinburgh.

The high point? Going to mass on Sunday at St. Peter's London Docks (SPLD), one of the founders of the Anglo-Catholic Movement as we know it today. Tract into act sorta thing, and they did just that, ministering heroically to the cholera stricken poor in the 19th century.

That in mind, Sunday's Mass was outstanding. Hordes of kids, 13 Confirmations, a full church, great sounding choir and sparkling wine after Mass. Totally all good and uplifting in every respect. Well done, SPLD, you're bucking the trend and showing the world that real religion, as opposed to its ersatz rainbow simulacrum is the way forward.

And what good people! America take note, the UK is home to some pretty switched on punters, no kidding. Happy with that, I strolled through the streets of East London after Mass with an old friend, and today? 

Rode the rails to Edinburgh and the Royal Scots. More on this adventure as it unfolds.

God bless,

LSP

London Cryptids - The Mullally

 

London, England, is home to many mysterious creatures unacknowledged by conventional science,  such as Springheel Jack, the Highgate Vampire, the Nameless Thing of Berkeley Square, the River Thames Monster and the Mullally.

The Mullally is reportedly a shortsighted half-man, half-woman and manifests itself as an Anglican bishop figure, terrifying onlookers with sexual innuendo and fearsome teeth. Colloquially known as "Bishop of London," the Mullally attempts to hypnotize its hearers with dysphoric doublethink.

"It's just plain ugly," said one clergyman on condition of anonymity. However, the Justsin Welby, another famous London cryptid, disagreed, “I will be extremely joyfully celebratory of these new [gay prayers of gay blessing]." Much like the Mullally, the Justsin Welby instantiates as a bishop figure but witnesses report it will not perform gay blessings out of concern for "pastoral care." 

Scientific consensus rules against sightings of cryptids like the Mullally and the Welby, "They're just fevered products of overheated imagination, not bishops at all," stated a former member of the Church of England's Catholic Group.

Here at the Compound we're inclined to agree with the skeptics.

That is all,

LSP

Crockford's

 

You, the discerning and gentle reader, will be pleased to know that I'm not a gambling man. Far be it from me to wager fast and loose on the vagaries of Dog Coin, the Peoples' Currency, and other speculation. That said, others have gambled and played deep, not least at Crockford's on St. James in the 1820s.

William Crockford was a fishmonger, born and raised at Temple Bar in London but, with a quick mathematical mind and attention to odds raised himself to a professional gambler, winning a massive fortune at cards, 100,000 pounds, millions now, at a game with various nobility in a tavern off St. James.

The Fishmonger gambler sensibly invested this money in a club, No. 50 St. James, over and against White's. This aristocratic gambling hell became all the rage, as did its play. For example:

The great majority of the club’s members were serious, indeed inveterate, gamblers. The equivalent of about $40 million is believed to have changed hands over Crockford’s first two seasons; Lord Rivers once lost £23,000 ($3 million) in a single evening, and the Earl of Sefton, a wastrel of whom the diarist Charles Greville observed that “his natural parts were excessively lively, but his education had been wholly neglected,” lost about £250,000 (almost $33 million today) over a period of years. He died owing Crockford more than $5 million more, a debt that his son felt obliged to discharge.

 

Crockford retired a multi-millionaire (not a socialist) in the 1840s and lost most of his fortune, apparently, on ill-advised bets on the Derby. Captain Gronow reckons, on reflection, "One may safely say, without exaggeration, that Crockford won the whole of the ready money of the then existing generation.” Quite a thing, we're talking millions and millions of pounds by 1820s/30s reckoning.

The Clubhouse still exists today and you can see it on your left as you stroll towards White's famous bay window. It was bought by a Russian oligarch around a decade ago and then squatted. Rumours that the DLC are purchasing this fine Regency building are precisely that, rumours.

Arduus Ad Solem,

LSP

I'm Confused

 

Go on, so-called LSP, state the obvious why don't you. Fair comment but hold fire, Why are a Scorpion of 5 black police officers being accused of "white supremacy" for beating another black man to death at a traffic stop in Memphis? But they are, via Fox:

"Doesn’t matter what color those police officers are," Rep. Maxwell Frost, D-Fla., tweeted on Friday evening.

"The murder of Tyre Nichols is anti-Black and the result of white supremacy," he added.

 

Frost's deleted his stupid, ignorant and foolish tweet but there it stands. How then does this death fall under "white supremacy"? The policemen who killed the perp are black, notoriously. Perhaps they were fighting some kind of tribal war, sponsored by white oppressors?

Perhaps. Then again, maybe they just got fed up with perps like Tyre Nichols resisting arrest in Memphis, Tennessee and went full on POC savage.That's not to excuse them or Tyre, who died for his pains, but still, why are the police in question somehow racist?

Surely not because the whole idea of law and order, mathematics, ethics, grammar, national parks and the nation itself, the whole construct of Western Civ is an assault against "blackness" and therefore fit to be destroyed, oppressive thing that it is. And hey, look at the consequence, 5 black cops beat some black guy to death and squads of privileged white kid nihilists set fire to Democrat run cities, surely no one's paying them. 

Word to the wise, and it's like an axiom. Viz. Everything the Left proposes or enacts produces the exact opposite of its intended result. Reflect on that as you will.

Guinea on the Monkey, what?

LSP

Good News

 

I know what you're like, all you eagle-eyed readers of the latest blasphemous comedy which is the Church News Cycle. You're thinking "we're going to Hell in a handbasket." True, it's not a pretty picture, but there are bright spots. Here's this from Adrienne's trad Latin RC parish:

Here's some encouraging numbers for you from St. Joan of Arc: In 2022, there were 68,500 attendees at Sunday Masses and over 100,000 total at Holy Mass when weekday Masses are included. In addition, there were 55 baptisms, 65 who received First Communion, and eight adult confirmations. We also had 87 new families/individuals join the parish. On January 21, 2023 Confirmation was conferred on 70 parishioners.

 

Well done and this goes to show the thirst and need for the real deal as opposed to something else. We saw the same thing with Elizabeth II, when you think on it. The people loved her because she was true, and so must we be, whether in religion or anything else.

Remember, punters. Satan's the Father of lies and we're against that. Also note, there are islands of sanity and holiness amidst the breakdown into degenerate barbarism.

Your Friend,

LSP

Retreat!

 

There we were, advancing in a different direction at our annual diocesan clergy retreat, which has resumed in full after two years of the Covid Craze. And good thing too, what a faithful group of priests, just a pleasure to be with.

Our retreat conductor was excellent, Abbott Luis Gonzales, OSB, who gave a series of conferences on the spiritual life, drawing heavily on Dom Columba Marmion. And what's wrong with that? Nothing whatsoever and we were challenged to advance in perfection.

That in mind, you'll be shocked and surprised to know there weren't any priestesses, guitar playing nuns, liturgical dancers or rainbow blessings at the retreat. No, only the Faith once delivered by Christ to the Apostles and thence to us.

Well, it was over all too soon but I left refreshed in spirit. Go to Montserrat's incarnation on Lake Dallas if you can, it's a good place and its silence is important.

God bless you all,

LSP

British Army Shortfall

 

According to a Mirror exclusive, 16,000 people left the British armed forces last year, leaving the once empire building military with a 4000 persyn shortfall. And that's really strange because the UK's spent a whopping $75 million on recruitment PR. 

It's a great campaign, with an emphasis on getting gays, trannies(?), snowflakes, Muslims and womyn to join the Army. You know, just the sort of demographic which supplies the Sceptered Isle with its new soldiers.

Genius level PR. So why has it failed so miserably? Could it be because POC, tranny, snowflake, Muslimas don't actually want to join up? Or would it be because enlisted soldiers are paid less than tofu burger flippers and dumped like a ton of net zero non-compliant coal when they leave the service? Maybe both.

But here's an infovideo:

Quite. Draw your own conclusions.

Floreat,

LSP

Some Good News

 

Good news? That's preposterous, so-called LSP, if that's your real name, which we doubt. But not so fast, punters, there is good news and here it is. The sun shines, the sky is blue, devoid of chemtrails, and the sacrifice of the Mass was offered this morning, not once but twice.

And there were the faithful, and they are, coming together to worship God, hear his Word and receive the Sacrament of the Altar, his Body and Blood, in which we find union with Our Lord's paschal sacrifice on Calvary and with it the forgiveness of sin and a share, even now, in the glorious risen life of the empty tomb.

Therein lies sanctification, freedom, hope and glory, right here in North Central Texas and I say that unreservedly. On topic, if you'd said in the '90s that I'd be  Priest in Charge of two small rural missions in Texas I'd have laughed. Hardly grand enough, where's that stone Altar and polychrome reredos. 

But the joke would've been on me. I'll leave you to do the spiritual math. In the meanwhile, have a beautiful Sunday and as always, God bless you all.

Shoot straight,

LSP