Feast of Silvester I, pope and confessor + 335
O God, who didst found Thy Church upon the most firm foundation of an apostolic rock in order to deliver her from the dreadful powers of hell: give her, we beseech Thee, that through the intercession of the blessed Silvester Thy Sovereign Pontiff, she may produce at all times in Thy truth so as to enjoy always a secure defense. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, Thy Son, Who with Thee liveth and reigneth in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end. (~ collect for the day, old rite)
Well, here we are at the end of 2007, and this will likely be my last post of the year. In less than four hours my plane leaves for Austin, and it's back to real life for me. It's been a terrific visit with my family, but I'm ready to get back. And I'm pumped-up and optimistic about the coming New Year. Something tells me that this is going to be a good one, with a great deal of progress in my personal and spiritual life. What does God have for me in '08 ? And what does He have for me to do for Him ? Confirmation, of course...that is likely to be the highlight. But I know He has other adventures in store, and I trust in His Providence and mercy. No matter what happens, "all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of thing will be well." I don't know much, but I know that.
May the Holy and Undivided Trinity bless us and keep us in A.D. 2008.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Feast of St. Thomas of Canterbury, bishop and martyr + 1170
Lord God, who gave grace to your servant Thomas Becket to put aside all earthly fear and be faithful even to death: grant that we, disregarding worldly esteem, may fight all wrong, uphold your rule, and serve you to our life's end; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP)
Well...today I finally did it. I wrote the pastor of the Evangelical church I love so much and have been a partner at these three years, and resigned. A sad day, to be sure...but also a happy one, because I know I am acting in obedience to the Spirit. Henceforth I am nothing but a Roman Catholic, though I pray that I will never cease to learn from my Protestant brothers and sisters, and never forget the great gifts The Austin Stone has given me.
As I have said, it is very difficult for me to convey what The Stone has meant to me over these years, and how much I have learned there. The worship is sincere and joyful, and the preaching is fantastic. I have learned a great deal about Scripture, and how necessary it is for the faithful to read and study it actively. As Matt said in a recent sermon, the Bible is like the sea, whose depths we will never completely plumb. Catholics do not, in general, pay enough attention to it (neither do the "mainline" Protestants). I look forward to going to the Scripture Study at the Cathedral and seeing how they do it there.
Another thing I learned at Austin Stone Community Church (ASCC) is the absolute indispensibility of true community in the life of faith. They have there what they used to call "community groups" (after a re-vamping and emphasis on smaller ones, they are now called simply "small groups"), where partners are encouraged to "do life" together. I can tell you that when a group of believers really commit themselves to each other, and meet weekly to read and discuss the Bible and pray together, remarkable things can happen. That is something I miss sorely, as my own group was dissolved when the re-vamping took place, and I have not found another to replace it. Of course, we Catholics have something like these groups, "small Christian communities", and I plan to check out a few of them at St. Austin's parish (there are none presently at the Cathedral, but that will not be the case for long if I can help it).
In short, I know that God brought me to ASCC for several reasons : to provide me with a circle of faith that would help me learn about how to live a life in community with other believers, how to have a personal relationship with Our Lord, and how to live a missional life, one that was about what God wants rather than about what I want. And beyond that, to take what I have learned and share it with people who don't know about those things, inside and outside the Church. My time as a member is completed...but I pray I never lose the friendships God has forged there, nor cease to be a part of them in the Spirit.
May God continue to bless The Stone with His Presence, and use it as a part of that Light which the darkness will never shut out.
Lord God, who gave grace to your servant Thomas Becket to put aside all earthly fear and be faithful even to death: grant that we, disregarding worldly esteem, may fight all wrong, uphold your rule, and serve you to our life's end; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP)
Well...today I finally did it. I wrote the pastor of the Evangelical church I love so much and have been a partner at these three years, and resigned. A sad day, to be sure...but also a happy one, because I know I am acting in obedience to the Spirit. Henceforth I am nothing but a Roman Catholic, though I pray that I will never cease to learn from my Protestant brothers and sisters, and never forget the great gifts The Austin Stone has given me.
As I have said, it is very difficult for me to convey what The Stone has meant to me over these years, and how much I have learned there. The worship is sincere and joyful, and the preaching is fantastic. I have learned a great deal about Scripture, and how necessary it is for the faithful to read and study it actively. As Matt said in a recent sermon, the Bible is like the sea, whose depths we will never completely plumb. Catholics do not, in general, pay enough attention to it (neither do the "mainline" Protestants). I look forward to going to the Scripture Study at the Cathedral and seeing how they do it there.
Another thing I learned at Austin Stone Community Church (ASCC) is the absolute indispensibility of true community in the life of faith. They have there what they used to call "community groups" (after a re-vamping and emphasis on smaller ones, they are now called simply "small groups"), where partners are encouraged to "do life" together. I can tell you that when a group of believers really commit themselves to each other, and meet weekly to read and discuss the Bible and pray together, remarkable things can happen. That is something I miss sorely, as my own group was dissolved when the re-vamping took place, and I have not found another to replace it. Of course, we Catholics have something like these groups, "small Christian communities", and I plan to check out a few of them at St. Austin's parish (there are none presently at the Cathedral, but that will not be the case for long if I can help it).
In short, I know that God brought me to ASCC for several reasons : to provide me with a circle of faith that would help me learn about how to live a life in community with other believers, how to have a personal relationship with Our Lord, and how to live a missional life, one that was about what God wants rather than about what I want. And beyond that, to take what I have learned and share it with people who don't know about those things, inside and outside the Church. My time as a member is completed...but I pray I never lose the friendships God has forged there, nor cease to be a part of them in the Spirit.
May God continue to bless The Stone with His Presence, and use it as a part of that Light which the darkness will never shut out.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
The Solemnity Of the Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ.
Et Verbum caro factum est et habitavit in nobis et vidimus gloriam eius gloriam quasi unigeniti a Patre plenum gratiae et veritatis.
~ St. John 1:14 (Vulgate)
Now at home with my family. Had a wonderful day; went to The Stone last night at 7pm, and midnight Mass with the Bishop at the Cathedral.
To quote Scrooge after his conversion :
A Merry Christmas to the whole world !
Et Verbum caro factum est et habitavit in nobis et vidimus gloriam eius gloriam quasi unigeniti a Patre plenum gratiae et veritatis.
~ St. John 1:14 (Vulgate)
Now at home with my family. Had a wonderful day; went to The Stone last night at 7pm, and midnight Mass with the Bishop at the Cathedral.
To quote Scrooge after his conversion :
A Merry Christmas to the whole world !
Sunday, December 23, 2007
IV Advent
Allelulia, alleluia.
Come, O Lord, and tarry not:
forgive the sins of Your people Israel.
Alleluia.
(from today's Extraordinary Rite, English translation)
My apologies for not writing at all this week, and for not finishing up the Evangelical portion of my story, which is all that is left. I'll be spending Christmas in Virginia with my family, Deo gratias !, so I should have time to make a lengthy post or two.
Until Christmas Day, Pax vobiscum.
Allelulia, alleluia.
Come, O Lord, and tarry not:
forgive the sins of Your people Israel.
Alleluia.
(from today's Extraordinary Rite, English translation)
My apologies for not writing at all this week, and for not finishing up the Evangelical portion of my story, which is all that is left. I'll be spending Christmas in Virginia with my family, Deo gratias !, so I should have time to make a lengthy post or two.
Until Christmas Day, Pax vobiscum.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
III Advent : Gaudete Sunday
2 Now when John had heard in prison the works of Christ: sending two of his disciples he said to Him:
3 Art thou He that art to come, or look we for another?
4 And Jesus making answer said to them: Go and relate to John what you have heard and seen. 5 The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the poor have the gospel preached to them.
6 And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in Me.
7 And when they went their way, Jesus began to say to the multitudes concerning John: What went you out into the desert to see? a reed shaken with the wind?
8 But what went you out to see? a man clothed in soft garments? Behold they that are clothed in soft garments, are in the houses of kings.
9 But what went you out to see? a prophet? yea I tell you, and more than a prophet.
10 For this is he of whom it is written: Behold I send my angel before Thy face, who shall prepare thy way before Thee.
11 Amen I say to you, there hath not risen among them that are born of women a greater than John the Baptist: yet he that is the lesser in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
12 And from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away.
13 For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John:
14 And if you will receive it, he is Elias that is to come.
15 He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
~ Matthew 11 (Douay-Rhiems)
Today's (new rite) Gospel reading is one of my very favorites. "Art thou He that art to come, or look we for another?" We can hear the questioning in the Baptist's voice, the anxiety over whether his Cousin is truly the Messiah. Isn't that all of us, at times ? "And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in Me. " I think of this verse often, when some "victim group" or other is offended by a teaching of the Church-- or even the celebration of Christmas itself. Lord Jesus, let me never be scandalized in (offended by) You. And more especially, help me day by day to never cause You scandal. The Feast of the Incarnation comes quickly, dear friends !
"He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."
My apologies for such laxity in writing this week. Let me see if I can get back to the story :
Well, I got sober and joined the Evangelical church of my friends, and I am near the end of my story up to this point. Although I have tried to be an active partner of the Austin Stone, I have continued to go to Mass and read up on the Catholic faith. For the last three years I have had one foot in the Evangelical tradition and one foot in Rome, and I will never regret this time with the Evangelicals. I have learned a great deal-- nearly everything I do know, in fact-- about what I call "ambulatory Christianity" (the Walk of faith) from this church, and I have gained a respect and love for the Evangelical tradition that I would never have had. Indeed, I consider myself an Evangelical Catholic, and I hope to never lose that sense of my faith. A good exposition of what that actually is can be found here : http://www.stmarysgvl.org/discipleship/evangelical-catholicism
I have never been to this parish or met any of her priests, but Fr. Newman and Fr. Longenecker seem to have an excellent take on the faith and one that I will try to emulate as a full-fledged Catholic. (I highly recommend any of Fr. Longenecker's books-- he's an exceptional apologist.)
So what's so great about The Austin Stone ? It will be very hard to give a full answer to that question for those who can't experience it firsthand. First, here's the website : http://www.austinstone.org/
I actually have a "life story" on the website, which will probably be coming down, or at least revised, in the next month or so when I resign my partnership. I closely mirrors this one, but with a less Catholic bent (!).
I encourage all who visit here to go to the Stone's website and check it out, especially the sermons of the lead Pastor, Matt Carter. He is a truly gifted preacher, in style and content, and an authentic man of God.
The theology of The Stone is, like most Evangelical churches, rather Calvinist. Not overwhelmingly so--i.e., it isn't preached all, or even most, Sundays. But it is there, and The Stone's leaders have arrived at that theology in an entirely honest way. Calvinism is a very logical theology, much like Catholicism-- except that Calvinism starts with a flawed premise :
"God always exercises His sovereignty, in all things, at all times. And sola Scriptura can prove that." Unfortunately, it makes God out to be a rather unpleasant Deity, one that we as Catholics have great difficulty believing in. But Christ and the Gospel are preached with truth and clarity in every other respect, and the Reformed theology is not something that is headlined very often. The church is most definitely not anti-Catholic, in that never have I heard a nasty thing about The Church in all my time there. My switching over to Holy Mother Church will not thrill them, make no mistake-- but neither will it be occasion, I hope, for mourning and gnashing of teeth. We shall see. I plan to write my letter of resignation right after Christmas. I dread it, but it must be done.
More soon...
2 Now when John had heard in prison the works of Christ: sending two of his disciples he said to Him:
3 Art thou He that art to come, or look we for another?
4 And Jesus making answer said to them: Go and relate to John what you have heard and seen. 5 The blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead rise again, the poor have the gospel preached to them.
6 And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in Me.
7 And when they went their way, Jesus began to say to the multitudes concerning John: What went you out into the desert to see? a reed shaken with the wind?
8 But what went you out to see? a man clothed in soft garments? Behold they that are clothed in soft garments, are in the houses of kings.
9 But what went you out to see? a prophet? yea I tell you, and more than a prophet.
10 For this is he of whom it is written: Behold I send my angel before Thy face, who shall prepare thy way before Thee.
11 Amen I say to you, there hath not risen among them that are born of women a greater than John the Baptist: yet he that is the lesser in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
12 And from the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent bear it away.
13 For all the prophets and the law prophesied until John:
14 And if you will receive it, he is Elias that is to come.
15 He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.
~ Matthew 11 (Douay-Rhiems)
Today's (new rite) Gospel reading is one of my very favorites. "Art thou He that art to come, or look we for another?" We can hear the questioning in the Baptist's voice, the anxiety over whether his Cousin is truly the Messiah. Isn't that all of us, at times ? "And blessed is he that shall not be scandalized in Me. " I think of this verse often, when some "victim group" or other is offended by a teaching of the Church-- or even the celebration of Christmas itself. Lord Jesus, let me never be scandalized in (offended by) You. And more especially, help me day by day to never cause You scandal. The Feast of the Incarnation comes quickly, dear friends !
"He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."
My apologies for such laxity in writing this week. Let me see if I can get back to the story :
Well, I got sober and joined the Evangelical church of my friends, and I am near the end of my story up to this point. Although I have tried to be an active partner of the Austin Stone, I have continued to go to Mass and read up on the Catholic faith. For the last three years I have had one foot in the Evangelical tradition and one foot in Rome, and I will never regret this time with the Evangelicals. I have learned a great deal-- nearly everything I do know, in fact-- about what I call "ambulatory Christianity" (the Walk of faith) from this church, and I have gained a respect and love for the Evangelical tradition that I would never have had. Indeed, I consider myself an Evangelical Catholic, and I hope to never lose that sense of my faith. A good exposition of what that actually is can be found here : http://www.stmarysgvl.org/discipleship/evangelical-catholicism
I have never been to this parish or met any of her priests, but Fr. Newman and Fr. Longenecker seem to have an excellent take on the faith and one that I will try to emulate as a full-fledged Catholic. (I highly recommend any of Fr. Longenecker's books-- he's an exceptional apologist.)
So what's so great about The Austin Stone ? It will be very hard to give a full answer to that question for those who can't experience it firsthand. First, here's the website : http://www.austinstone.org/
I actually have a "life story" on the website, which will probably be coming down, or at least revised, in the next month or so when I resign my partnership. I closely mirrors this one, but with a less Catholic bent (!).
I encourage all who visit here to go to the Stone's website and check it out, especially the sermons of the lead Pastor, Matt Carter. He is a truly gifted preacher, in style and content, and an authentic man of God.
The theology of The Stone is, like most Evangelical churches, rather Calvinist. Not overwhelmingly so--i.e., it isn't preached all, or even most, Sundays. But it is there, and The Stone's leaders have arrived at that theology in an entirely honest way. Calvinism is a very logical theology, much like Catholicism-- except that Calvinism starts with a flawed premise :
"God always exercises His sovereignty, in all things, at all times. And sola Scriptura can prove that." Unfortunately, it makes God out to be a rather unpleasant Deity, one that we as Catholics have great difficulty believing in. But Christ and the Gospel are preached with truth and clarity in every other respect, and the Reformed theology is not something that is headlined very often. The church is most definitely not anti-Catholic, in that never have I heard a nasty thing about The Church in all my time there. My switching over to Holy Mother Church will not thrill them, make no mistake-- but neither will it be occasion, I hope, for mourning and gnashing of teeth. We shall see. I plan to write my letter of resignation right after Christmas. I dread it, but it must be done.
More soon...
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
Back to my saga, picking up after my first confession in 30 years :
I knew that my only hope of getting sober and starting a new life was to get out of New Orleans; I was too well known to the police to be able to walk freely about the city, even stone-cold sober. I knew several guys who had gone on the wagon for extended periods who had still been arrested, and lost their jobs and housing as a result. I also knew that the party atmosphere and ready availability of drink in the Crescent City was just too much temptation. So I tried to sober up and get to Baton Rouge, where there was a very good homeless shelter run by the St. Vincent De Paul Society. Unfortunately, I could not stay dry long enough to accomplish the task, and 2004 brought more jail time.
Around the 1st of August I had finally had enough. A drinking buddy of mine who had escaped to Austin several years before had been hounding me to come, and having no better place to go, I relented. I emailed my long-suffering, sainted mother and begged her to send me a bus ticket so I could escape the lure of the French Quarter, get sober, and get a life. She knew pretty well what I had been going through and she sent the ticket. I have no doubt that in doing so she saved my life.
I was very impressed with Austin-- the weather, the city, the people. Lacking a clear plan to get sober, though, my drinking continued. My circumstances did improve somewhat, but I was just as miserable. I knew that God was the only way out of this private hell I had constructed for myself, but I had no idea of how I could approach Him. "Religion", as I had been practicing it, had failed me. But, all praise be to Him, God had a plan. In due time, in His perfect timing, he drew me to Himself. And He did so through a group of godly Protestants.
I had started going to some early morning homeless breakfasts at First United Methodist Church, and to "Church Under the Bridge", a worship service led by an organization called "Mission Possible", on Sundays. After a few months I was meeting people of a sort I had never known before. They had been around all my life, in every city and every church I had ever been to, but I was so blind, and so lost, that I could not see them. I had always thought of Christianity as something one believed in one’s head, not as something that "regular" people could live out. I believed, in a cerebral way, in God's power, but I despaired of His intervention in my own life. But the people I met were different. Nearly all of them were from The Austin Stone Community Church and they were pretty much average folks except in one respect: they had deep, meaningful relationships with Christ. Their relationships with Him had changed them all, some in dramatic ways. Through their friendship with the Savior of the world, and their friendships with each other, they had become new people. Until I met them, I believed the whole idea of a personal relationship with the Creator of the universe was a silly concept. Through them, I saw that it was not only possible, it was essential.
One person I met in particular grabbed my attention-- a beautiful 30 year old woman named Tanya. The way she interacted with the homeless was truly remarkable to see. You could tell that this diminutive young lady really loved us for the lost children of God that we were, no strings attached. She wanted us to know Jesus and the transforming power of His love, and she had no other agenda than that. That kind of selfless love was something I had never seen so up-close and personal, and I began to believe that if she could experience the forgiveness of Christ and become a "new creation", then so could I.
God had shown me enough of Himself through their love and examples for the spark to kindle in my heart. On December 3, 2004, I had what I pray was my last drink, and finally let down my paper-thin armor. I surrendered to the King. St. Paul says, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God” (Hebrews10:13) but in this context, for me, it was also a wonderful thing. I fell into His hands not as His enemy, but as His child--at last.
I started going to The Stone immediately, and was even more astounded by the God I heard preached, and saw in action, through the partners of that part of the Body of Christ. Never before had I been exposed to such a large number of people who were so serious and joyful about their walk with Jesus. I felt that despite the fact that theologically I was 95 % Catholic, I had to join this body of believers. The Holy Spirit tugged at me mightily, and I became a "partner" at The Stone in February of '05, and I remain one to this day. I will be resigning at the end of the year with great sadness, but I will never regret having been a member. And as long as I live in Austin TX, I'll be there on Sunday nights with my Evangelical brethren.
More to come ...
Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Americas and the unborn : Pray for us !
Back to my saga, picking up after my first confession in 30 years :
I knew that my only hope of getting sober and starting a new life was to get out of New Orleans; I was too well known to the police to be able to walk freely about the city, even stone-cold sober. I knew several guys who had gone on the wagon for extended periods who had still been arrested, and lost their jobs and housing as a result. I also knew that the party atmosphere and ready availability of drink in the Crescent City was just too much temptation. So I tried to sober up and get to Baton Rouge, where there was a very good homeless shelter run by the St. Vincent De Paul Society. Unfortunately, I could not stay dry long enough to accomplish the task, and 2004 brought more jail time.
Around the 1st of August I had finally had enough. A drinking buddy of mine who had escaped to Austin several years before had been hounding me to come, and having no better place to go, I relented. I emailed my long-suffering, sainted mother and begged her to send me a bus ticket so I could escape the lure of the French Quarter, get sober, and get a life. She knew pretty well what I had been going through and she sent the ticket. I have no doubt that in doing so she saved my life.
I was very impressed with Austin-- the weather, the city, the people. Lacking a clear plan to get sober, though, my drinking continued. My circumstances did improve somewhat, but I was just as miserable. I knew that God was the only way out of this private hell I had constructed for myself, but I had no idea of how I could approach Him. "Religion", as I had been practicing it, had failed me. But, all praise be to Him, God had a plan. In due time, in His perfect timing, he drew me to Himself. And He did so through a group of godly Protestants.
I had started going to some early morning homeless breakfasts at First United Methodist Church, and to "Church Under the Bridge", a worship service led by an organization called "Mission Possible", on Sundays. After a few months I was meeting people of a sort I had never known before. They had been around all my life, in every city and every church I had ever been to, but I was so blind, and so lost, that I could not see them. I had always thought of Christianity as something one believed in one’s head, not as something that "regular" people could live out. I believed, in a cerebral way, in God's power, but I despaired of His intervention in my own life. But the people I met were different. Nearly all of them were from The Austin Stone Community Church and they were pretty much average folks except in one respect: they had deep, meaningful relationships with Christ. Their relationships with Him had changed them all, some in dramatic ways. Through their friendship with the Savior of the world, and their friendships with each other, they had become new people. Until I met them, I believed the whole idea of a personal relationship with the Creator of the universe was a silly concept. Through them, I saw that it was not only possible, it was essential.
One person I met in particular grabbed my attention-- a beautiful 30 year old woman named Tanya. The way she interacted with the homeless was truly remarkable to see. You could tell that this diminutive young lady really loved us for the lost children of God that we were, no strings attached. She wanted us to know Jesus and the transforming power of His love, and she had no other agenda than that. That kind of selfless love was something I had never seen so up-close and personal, and I began to believe that if she could experience the forgiveness of Christ and become a "new creation", then so could I.
God had shown me enough of Himself through their love and examples for the spark to kindle in my heart. On December 3, 2004, I had what I pray was my last drink, and finally let down my paper-thin armor. I surrendered to the King. St. Paul says, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God” (Hebrews10:13) but in this context, for me, it was also a wonderful thing. I fell into His hands not as His enemy, but as His child--at last.
I started going to The Stone immediately, and was even more astounded by the God I heard preached, and saw in action, through the partners of that part of the Body of Christ. Never before had I been exposed to such a large number of people who were so serious and joyful about their walk with Jesus. I felt that despite the fact that theologically I was 95 % Catholic, I had to join this body of believers. The Holy Spirit tugged at me mightily, and I became a "partner" at The Stone in February of '05, and I remain one to this day. I will be resigning at the end of the year with great sadness, but I will never regret having been a member. And as long as I live in Austin TX, I'll be there on Sunday nights with my Evangelical brethren.
More to come ...
Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Americas and the unborn : Pray for us !
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Lord, You have prepared a worthy place for Your Son by the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin; grant, we pray, that as You preserved her from all stain of sin in Your foreknowledge of His death, so we, by her intercession, may come to You with pure hearts... Amen.
~ English translation of the collect for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, Extraordinary Rite
What a blessed feast day this is, surely one of my favorites in the whole calendar. This is the day that I celebrate my conversion, as it falls so close to the anniversary of my last drink; also, as I have noted, it was my recognition of the words "I am the Immaculate Conception" as true that started me onto the path I am now following to completion at the Great Vigil of Easter. Thank you, Blessed Mother, for your intercession and love for me !
I celebrated the day by attending the Tridentine Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception of Mary in downtown Austin, a beautiful old church I am proud to have as my parish. Let me say for the record that although I attend the Latin Mass fairly often, I also love the new Mass and attend it as often as the Latin. Tomorrow I'll go to the High Mass at noon, which is always done with reverence and dignity. I am absolutely not a "Pius X"-er. Though Lefebvre and his ilk did a great service to the Church by helping to preserve the Old Mass, they did so at the expense of schism. They may say out of one side of their mouths that they respect the authority of the Pope; at the same time their "bishops" accuse the same Pope of being a heretic. They can't have it both ways. As far as I'm concerned they are anathema. "Where Peter is, there is the Church."
Last night I attended a Christmas party with some very dear friends in Christ, good disciples and friends of Jesus whom I have known and loved for the last three years. They are partners (members) of The Austin Stone Community Church... as I have been since Feb. 4th of '05. I know that doesn't really compute-- I'm Catholic and Protestant ? Well, not Protestant, but definitely Evangelical, the tradition that church embraces. At the end of the month I will be formally resigning my partnership, a chore that I dread and that I know will break my heart. That church has done more to form my faith and heart than any other single church I've been associated with...but I need to get on with finishing my story so that I can explain all of that.
I left off in late January of 2004, a few days before my 40th. birthday. The Holy Spirit had been dragging me kicking and screaming back to Himself and His Church, and the sinfulness of my lifestyle was weighing heavily on me. I was going to Mass frequently and receiving, a horrible sacrilege that I did not grasp until about this time. (As I said earlier, I had little memory of my preparation for First Communion and Confession, and I was not aware of how bad it was to receive the Eucharist when not in a state of grace. That's no excuse, and I will no doubt pay for that in Purgatory; yet at the same time, I know in my heart that God used my imperfect reception of the Sacrament as a powerful means of drawing me to the Truth.) The more I paid attention to the teachings of the Church, the more I knew I had to get right with God by going to confession, the first one in 30 years.
I didn't want to go to one of the churches I usually attended, so I picked the one on Rampart Street on the edge of the French Quarter known by a number of different names : The Mortuary Chapel, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and / or Shrine of St. Jude. It's a lovely little church which is one of the oldest structures around the Quarter, close to St. Louis' Cemetary no. I, and built to bury the dead from when yellow fever ravaged the old city. There was confession before the noon Mass every day, so I screwed my courage to the sticking place and dragged myself in and made as complete and thorough a confession as I could. The priest was wonderful, and I left that church after the Mass feeling like a new man. In point of fact, of course, I was. I wish I could say that my life changed dramatically from that point on, but alas, that was not the case.
Yet it was the beginning of the realization that I could be a friend of God, or His enemy-- but NOT both. I had to make a choice as to which one I was going to be.
I knew that I had to get out of the horrendous mess I was in-- the drinking, the sinning, the wasting of my entire life. Here I was 40, and had accomplished nothing of any worth except those four years in the Army. I had to get the hell out of New Orleans if I was ever going to get sober-- that much I knew to be a fact. So I began to plan my escape.
More soon...
~ English translation of the collect for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, Extraordinary Rite
What a blessed feast day this is, surely one of my favorites in the whole calendar. This is the day that I celebrate my conversion, as it falls so close to the anniversary of my last drink; also, as I have noted, it was my recognition of the words "I am the Immaculate Conception" as true that started me onto the path I am now following to completion at the Great Vigil of Easter. Thank you, Blessed Mother, for your intercession and love for me !
I celebrated the day by attending the Tridentine Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception of Mary in downtown Austin, a beautiful old church I am proud to have as my parish. Let me say for the record that although I attend the Latin Mass fairly often, I also love the new Mass and attend it as often as the Latin. Tomorrow I'll go to the High Mass at noon, which is always done with reverence and dignity. I am absolutely not a "Pius X"-er. Though Lefebvre and his ilk did a great service to the Church by helping to preserve the Old Mass, they did so at the expense of schism. They may say out of one side of their mouths that they respect the authority of the Pope; at the same time their "bishops" accuse the same Pope of being a heretic. They can't have it both ways. As far as I'm concerned they are anathema. "Where Peter is, there is the Church."
Last night I attended a Christmas party with some very dear friends in Christ, good disciples and friends of Jesus whom I have known and loved for the last three years. They are partners (members) of The Austin Stone Community Church... as I have been since Feb. 4th of '05. I know that doesn't really compute-- I'm Catholic and Protestant ? Well, not Protestant, but definitely Evangelical, the tradition that church embraces. At the end of the month I will be formally resigning my partnership, a chore that I dread and that I know will break my heart. That church has done more to form my faith and heart than any other single church I've been associated with...but I need to get on with finishing my story so that I can explain all of that.
I left off in late January of 2004, a few days before my 40th. birthday. The Holy Spirit had been dragging me kicking and screaming back to Himself and His Church, and the sinfulness of my lifestyle was weighing heavily on me. I was going to Mass frequently and receiving, a horrible sacrilege that I did not grasp until about this time. (As I said earlier, I had little memory of my preparation for First Communion and Confession, and I was not aware of how bad it was to receive the Eucharist when not in a state of grace. That's no excuse, and I will no doubt pay for that in Purgatory; yet at the same time, I know in my heart that God used my imperfect reception of the Sacrament as a powerful means of drawing me to the Truth.) The more I paid attention to the teachings of the Church, the more I knew I had to get right with God by going to confession, the first one in 30 years.
I didn't want to go to one of the churches I usually attended, so I picked the one on Rampart Street on the edge of the French Quarter known by a number of different names : The Mortuary Chapel, Our Lady of Guadalupe, and / or Shrine of St. Jude. It's a lovely little church which is one of the oldest structures around the Quarter, close to St. Louis' Cemetary no. I, and built to bury the dead from when yellow fever ravaged the old city. There was confession before the noon Mass every day, so I screwed my courage to the sticking place and dragged myself in and made as complete and thorough a confession as I could. The priest was wonderful, and I left that church after the Mass feeling like a new man. In point of fact, of course, I was. I wish I could say that my life changed dramatically from that point on, but alas, that was not the case.
Yet it was the beginning of the realization that I could be a friend of God, or His enemy-- but NOT both. I had to make a choice as to which one I was going to be.
I knew that I had to get out of the horrendous mess I was in-- the drinking, the sinning, the wasting of my entire life. Here I was 40, and had accomplished nothing of any worth except those four years in the Army. I had to get the hell out of New Orleans if I was ever going to get sober-- that much I knew to be a fact. So I began to plan my escape.
More soon...
Friday, December 7, 2007
My apologies (mea maxima culpa) for breaking off my story in the middle and not getting back to it in a timely manner. I hope to make a long post in the next day or two and finish the tale.
In the meantime I will say that on December the 4th. I celebrated three solid years of sobriety--thanks be to God !!!-- so that at least gives a clue to how much my life has improved since New Orleans.
A blessed Feast of the Immaculate Conception to you all.
Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
In the meantime I will say that on December the 4th. I celebrated three solid years of sobriety--thanks be to God !!!-- so that at least gives a clue to how much my life has improved since New Orleans.
A blessed Feast of the Immaculate Conception to you all.
Pray for us, O Holy Mother of God
That we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Where do I start with this ? How exactly does one lay out an account of one's spiritual journey ? Anyone curious enough, and kind enough, to read this, please forgive me if I ramble. I want to tell the story, and the remaining process, in a manner that is complete without being too voluminous. In this first week of Advent, it seems a good idea to start by looking at my religious life up to this point.
I was born into a Catholic family, right smack in the middle of the Second Vatican Council; at the age of one month, on 23 February 1964, I was baptized by Fr. K. M. Rizer, at Blessed Sacrament parish in Norfolk, VA. I received First Communion on the 29th. of April, 1972 at the same parish. (My memory of that is very vague, and I have no memory of my first confession at all.) In between these two sacraments, at the age of 5, was an event which would ultimately result in my leaving the Church for the next 30 years : the divorce of my parents. It was an extremely difficult experience for me, one which formed my personality in a way that over the years has brought me to much grief. But I intend to point no fingers of blame here ; divorce is unfortunately a very common practice in this age, one that millions have had to deal with. I simply mention it because of the impact it has had on my life.
That was an odd time for the Church. Latin was on the way out, and I remember the use of guitars at Mass-- a practice I distinctly remember disliking even at that age. Blessed Sacrament was (and still is) a monstrosity of modern architecture, but all things considered my time there was not unpleasant. I recall virtually nothing of my early instruction in the Faith, but the sisters and priests must have done something right, for it resulted in a lifelong respect for the Church, even when I was outside of it, and it gave me an ingrained love of theology and ritual.
My mother remarried when I was about 10 years old, in the Episcopal Church (I remember liking that architecture much better-- it was an old traditional structure). She had made the decision by that time to leave the Church-- partly because she was under the impression that annulment would mean that my younger sister and I were illegitimate, and partly, I think, because she could see the Church of her youth changing irrevocably. Our new family moved out of the city to a small town where the only choices were the Southern Baptist and United Methodist Churches, and my parents chose the Methodists. Here started a whole new chapter in my spiritual life, one in which I became aware of the necessity of a personal relationship with Christ.
The pastor of the little Methodist church we attended was a wise and good man, well-educated and a good preacher. (He had the good fortune to be named Jim Tongue.) It was through him that I was first exposed to the work of C.S. Lewis, something for which I will be eternally grateful. His preaching spurred me to read Scripture for myself, and I became more and more aware, as a human who had attained the age of reason, of what Christianity was all about. I was confirmed in the Methodist Church at about 13 yrs. of age and became involved in their youth ministry; I also developed an admiration for John Wesley, and read a bit of his stuff, too. I was truly growing in my faith, as evidenced by an experience I had at the age of 16, during a Lenten sermon series by a visiting minister. I will recount that in a later post, but suffice it to say that I was made aware of God's nature, and of the costs of discipleship, in a way that I had not known before. This should have been the beginning of a truly victorious Christian life with a future in the ministry, but my conversion experience waned after a few years, and I became more and more immersed in the world, and less and less in the life of Christ. It was a slow process, and I have never, even in the darkest seasons of my life, lost the feeling that God has some sort of real vocation for me. But for many, many years I ran from Him instead of seeking His will.
After high school I went off to a small four year institution, Coker College in Hartsville,SC. The previous winter I had begun to be interested in the Episcopal Church; I had always been something of an Anglophile, and my admiration of Wesley led me in that direction. Even as a teenager I had been something of a "high church" Methodist. (I know now that it was the Holy Spirit directing me back toward Rome, but it took me many years to come to that understanding.) I asked for a Book of Common Prayer for Christmas, and fell in love with the Anglican liturgy immediately. By the time I got to college I was ready to check out the Episcopalians firsthand, and I was fortunate to find a lovely old Episcopal church, St. Bartholomew's, right on the edge of campus. The priest, Fr. Michael Malone, was also an excellent preacher, and by the time I returned to VA I was ready to make a permanent change. Closer to home was Emmanuel Episcopal Church, in Franklin , with Fr. Ben Duffey as rector. Another fine church and another fine priest-- I was confirmed in the Anglican Communion in 1984, and remained an Episcopalian (at least officially) for the next 20 years.
At this point in the story, though, we have the beginning of something which changed my life much for the worse, and would for many years to come. I developed alcoholism, and to try to escape it I joined the Army for four years. I'm very glad I did, but it didn't help the drinking. It got worse. I was honorably discharged in 1988, and then started a slow but inexorable slide into the gutter. I drifted from job to job, from city to city, from one broken relationship to another. I went through structured detox from alcohol about 40 times, and full treatment 5 or 6 times. Frankly, I don't remember them all. In 1994 I was convicted of drunk driving for the third time and had to do 7 months in jail. There is no way in this space to fully convey the misery and depravity of those 17 years, but my experience as a homeless drunk in New Orleans sums it up nicely-- the last leg of a truly sordid journey.
I had gone there in 1998 at the invitation of a woman I had become involved with in Virginia. We were two alcoholics who were going to be together in N.O., the North American capital of alcoholism, and live happily ever after. The insanity of that proposition was evident to me even then, but I attempted it anyway. Needless to say, it was a disastrous undertaking, and I found myself on the street pretty quickly. For the first time in my life I was truly "out there"-- no program, no long-term shelter, no nothing. Just me and Bourbon Street, the Disneyland of booze.
Every night found me on the Rue Bourbon, walking the 1/2 mile between Canal and St. Anne Streets and back again, drinking as much as I could get-- or if I was lucky, as much as I could hold. A police officer once called me the "town drunk"-- no small "accomplishment" in the Big Easy. Passing out in the streets of the French Quarter was something I became familiar with; I was taken to one of three hospitals about a dozen times. My best conservative estimate is that I walked at least 6000 miles on Bourbon St., including four consecutive Mardi Gras. Don't ever let anyone tell you that alcoholics are lazy. It is the hardest work in the world.
That whole 5 ½ year period was one long binge, one that I am certain would have resulted in my death were it not for God's grace and providential care. One thing that helped to keep me alive was jail, and God did not hesitate to use that tool in my life. The city of New Orleans has without a doubt the most corrupt police department and local government in the nation. Their "answer" to the large homeless problem was to put all the homeless in jail--as often as possible, for as long as possible, and for any reason possible. Of the nearly 70 months I was in the city, I calculate that I spent roughly 35 of them in jail—2 ½ to 3 years, 10 or 20 or 30 days at a time. "Life on the installment plan," we used to call it. My experience was by no means unique; I knew probably 100 men and a number of women who lived exactly the same way. What is miraculous is that I managed to escape it. Our God is truly the One Who "plucks my feet out of the net" (Ps. 25:15).
The last year and a half of my time in New Orleans, life became insufferably miserable. In 2003, the police went on a rampage that made them look as if they had been tolerant in the past. The cycle of jail and drunkenness took me to a level of desperation I had never sunk to before. I went to church frequently to appease a God that I thought was punishing me for my sinfulness. In retrospect, I was not too far off the mark. God was trying diligently to get my attention; the Faithful One was pursuing me doggedly, and was not about to make my life any easier until I surrendered to Him. And if there is one thing I am truly grateful for about those years in New Orleans, it is that Our Lord used my time there to draw me back to Holy Mother Church. I attended an Episcopal church there once or twice, but because of the apostate direction the church had taken in recent years, I knew it was no longer for me. Rome was truly the only place left for me, though I hardly knew how I would be able to reconcile my theological qualms. The Methodist and Anglican churches had made me into a Protestant, albeit a "high church" one; I had never slipped into anti-Catholicism, but the papacy, devotion to Mary, and a number of other dogmas were real stumbling blocks for me. Still, the Church of my baptism was calling. I first attended St. Louis' Cathedral, in the French Quarter; though it was beautiful, it seemed a little too much like a "show" church to me, more of a museum for tourists than a living parish. (I think I was wrong, but that's how it felt to me at the time.)
I next tried out Immaculate Conception Jesuit Church, on Baronne St., which also had a homeless ministry. Now THIS was a church. It looked like one, and the people seemed like a real community. The pastor, Fr. Harry Thompson (+ may perpetual Light shine upon him) was something of a local legend, and with good reason. In the "day center" of the homeless ministry there were a great many Catholic books available for reading, and I dove in headfirst. One of the books I was into was an account of the apparitions of Our Lady at Lourdes; I had come to believe that this was a true event, and as I puzzled over what it meant for my faith, I read about who she said she was : "I am The Immaculate Conception." Those five words literally started my path back to union with the Church. It is difficult to relate how dramatic that revelation was for me. If the apparitions were real, then the Church's teaching on Mary was true. But...the teaching was a function of the Pope's infallible magisterial authority. And if the Pope is who he says he is, and Mary is who the Church says she is, then...what else is there ? It wasn't quite that quick or easy, but that was the thought process.
In January of 2004 I was turning 40, and at this point I began to make a serious appraisal of my life. There was no question that I was on the worst of paths, one that would lead to an early death, and plenty more misery until that happened. The truth of the Church was becoming more and more apparent to me every day, and I decided that before I turned 40 I would be sacramentally reconciled with God and Holy Mother Church, as a prelude to a major reform effort.
More tomorrow...
I was born into a Catholic family, right smack in the middle of the Second Vatican Council; at the age of one month, on 23 February 1964, I was baptized by Fr. K. M. Rizer, at Blessed Sacrament parish in Norfolk, VA. I received First Communion on the 29th. of April, 1972 at the same parish. (My memory of that is very vague, and I have no memory of my first confession at all.) In between these two sacraments, at the age of 5, was an event which would ultimately result in my leaving the Church for the next 30 years : the divorce of my parents. It was an extremely difficult experience for me, one which formed my personality in a way that over the years has brought me to much grief. But I intend to point no fingers of blame here ; divorce is unfortunately a very common practice in this age, one that millions have had to deal with. I simply mention it because of the impact it has had on my life.
That was an odd time for the Church. Latin was on the way out, and I remember the use of guitars at Mass-- a practice I distinctly remember disliking even at that age. Blessed Sacrament was (and still is) a monstrosity of modern architecture, but all things considered my time there was not unpleasant. I recall virtually nothing of my early instruction in the Faith, but the sisters and priests must have done something right, for it resulted in a lifelong respect for the Church, even when I was outside of it, and it gave me an ingrained love of theology and ritual.
My mother remarried when I was about 10 years old, in the Episcopal Church (I remember liking that architecture much better-- it was an old traditional structure). She had made the decision by that time to leave the Church-- partly because she was under the impression that annulment would mean that my younger sister and I were illegitimate, and partly, I think, because she could see the Church of her youth changing irrevocably. Our new family moved out of the city to a small town where the only choices were the Southern Baptist and United Methodist Churches, and my parents chose the Methodists. Here started a whole new chapter in my spiritual life, one in which I became aware of the necessity of a personal relationship with Christ.
The pastor of the little Methodist church we attended was a wise and good man, well-educated and a good preacher. (He had the good fortune to be named Jim Tongue.) It was through him that I was first exposed to the work of C.S. Lewis, something for which I will be eternally grateful. His preaching spurred me to read Scripture for myself, and I became more and more aware, as a human who had attained the age of reason, of what Christianity was all about. I was confirmed in the Methodist Church at about 13 yrs. of age and became involved in their youth ministry; I also developed an admiration for John Wesley, and read a bit of his stuff, too. I was truly growing in my faith, as evidenced by an experience I had at the age of 16, during a Lenten sermon series by a visiting minister. I will recount that in a later post, but suffice it to say that I was made aware of God's nature, and of the costs of discipleship, in a way that I had not known before. This should have been the beginning of a truly victorious Christian life with a future in the ministry, but my conversion experience waned after a few years, and I became more and more immersed in the world, and less and less in the life of Christ. It was a slow process, and I have never, even in the darkest seasons of my life, lost the feeling that God has some sort of real vocation for me. But for many, many years I ran from Him instead of seeking His will.
After high school I went off to a small four year institution, Coker College in Hartsville,SC. The previous winter I had begun to be interested in the Episcopal Church; I had always been something of an Anglophile, and my admiration of Wesley led me in that direction. Even as a teenager I had been something of a "high church" Methodist. (I know now that it was the Holy Spirit directing me back toward Rome, but it took me many years to come to that understanding.) I asked for a Book of Common Prayer for Christmas, and fell in love with the Anglican liturgy immediately. By the time I got to college I was ready to check out the Episcopalians firsthand, and I was fortunate to find a lovely old Episcopal church, St. Bartholomew's, right on the edge of campus. The priest, Fr. Michael Malone, was also an excellent preacher, and by the time I returned to VA I was ready to make a permanent change. Closer to home was Emmanuel Episcopal Church, in Franklin , with Fr. Ben Duffey as rector. Another fine church and another fine priest-- I was confirmed in the Anglican Communion in 1984, and remained an Episcopalian (at least officially) for the next 20 years.
At this point in the story, though, we have the beginning of something which changed my life much for the worse, and would for many years to come. I developed alcoholism, and to try to escape it I joined the Army for four years. I'm very glad I did, but it didn't help the drinking. It got worse. I was honorably discharged in 1988, and then started a slow but inexorable slide into the gutter. I drifted from job to job, from city to city, from one broken relationship to another. I went through structured detox from alcohol about 40 times, and full treatment 5 or 6 times. Frankly, I don't remember them all. In 1994 I was convicted of drunk driving for the third time and had to do 7 months in jail. There is no way in this space to fully convey the misery and depravity of those 17 years, but my experience as a homeless drunk in New Orleans sums it up nicely-- the last leg of a truly sordid journey.
I had gone there in 1998 at the invitation of a woman I had become involved with in Virginia. We were two alcoholics who were going to be together in N.O., the North American capital of alcoholism, and live happily ever after. The insanity of that proposition was evident to me even then, but I attempted it anyway. Needless to say, it was a disastrous undertaking, and I found myself on the street pretty quickly. For the first time in my life I was truly "out there"-- no program, no long-term shelter, no nothing. Just me and Bourbon Street, the Disneyland of booze.
Every night found me on the Rue Bourbon, walking the 1/2 mile between Canal and St. Anne Streets and back again, drinking as much as I could get-- or if I was lucky, as much as I could hold. A police officer once called me the "town drunk"-- no small "accomplishment" in the Big Easy. Passing out in the streets of the French Quarter was something I became familiar with; I was taken to one of three hospitals about a dozen times. My best conservative estimate is that I walked at least 6000 miles on Bourbon St., including four consecutive Mardi Gras. Don't ever let anyone tell you that alcoholics are lazy. It is the hardest work in the world.
That whole 5 ½ year period was one long binge, one that I am certain would have resulted in my death were it not for God's grace and providential care. One thing that helped to keep me alive was jail, and God did not hesitate to use that tool in my life. The city of New Orleans has without a doubt the most corrupt police department and local government in the nation. Their "answer" to the large homeless problem was to put all the homeless in jail--as often as possible, for as long as possible, and for any reason possible. Of the nearly 70 months I was in the city, I calculate that I spent roughly 35 of them in jail—2 ½ to 3 years, 10 or 20 or 30 days at a time. "Life on the installment plan," we used to call it. My experience was by no means unique; I knew probably 100 men and a number of women who lived exactly the same way. What is miraculous is that I managed to escape it. Our God is truly the One Who "plucks my feet out of the net" (Ps. 25:15).
The last year and a half of my time in New Orleans, life became insufferably miserable. In 2003, the police went on a rampage that made them look as if they had been tolerant in the past. The cycle of jail and drunkenness took me to a level of desperation I had never sunk to before. I went to church frequently to appease a God that I thought was punishing me for my sinfulness. In retrospect, I was not too far off the mark. God was trying diligently to get my attention; the Faithful One was pursuing me doggedly, and was not about to make my life any easier until I surrendered to Him. And if there is one thing I am truly grateful for about those years in New Orleans, it is that Our Lord used my time there to draw me back to Holy Mother Church. I attended an Episcopal church there once or twice, but because of the apostate direction the church had taken in recent years, I knew it was no longer for me. Rome was truly the only place left for me, though I hardly knew how I would be able to reconcile my theological qualms. The Methodist and Anglican churches had made me into a Protestant, albeit a "high church" one; I had never slipped into anti-Catholicism, but the papacy, devotion to Mary, and a number of other dogmas were real stumbling blocks for me. Still, the Church of my baptism was calling. I first attended St. Louis' Cathedral, in the French Quarter; though it was beautiful, it seemed a little too much like a "show" church to me, more of a museum for tourists than a living parish. (I think I was wrong, but that's how it felt to me at the time.)
I next tried out Immaculate Conception Jesuit Church, on Baronne St., which also had a homeless ministry. Now THIS was a church. It looked like one, and the people seemed like a real community. The pastor, Fr. Harry Thompson (+ may perpetual Light shine upon him) was something of a local legend, and with good reason. In the "day center" of the homeless ministry there were a great many Catholic books available for reading, and I dove in headfirst. One of the books I was into was an account of the apparitions of Our Lady at Lourdes; I had come to believe that this was a true event, and as I puzzled over what it meant for my faith, I read about who she said she was : "I am The Immaculate Conception." Those five words literally started my path back to union with the Church. It is difficult to relate how dramatic that revelation was for me. If the apparitions were real, then the Church's teaching on Mary was true. But...the teaching was a function of the Pope's infallible magisterial authority. And if the Pope is who he says he is, and Mary is who the Church says she is, then...what else is there ? It wasn't quite that quick or easy, but that was the thought process.
In January of 2004 I was turning 40, and at this point I began to make a serious appraisal of my life. There was no question that I was on the worst of paths, one that would lead to an early death, and plenty more misery until that happened. The truth of the Church was becoming more and more apparent to me every day, and I decided that before I turned 40 I would be sacramentally reconciled with God and Holy Mother Church, as a prelude to a major reform effort.
More tomorrow...
Sunday, December 2, 2007
First Sunday of Advent.
11. And that knowing the season; that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep. For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed. 12. The night is passed, and the day is at hand. Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armour of light. 13. Let us walk honestly, as in the day: not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy: 14. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences. ~ Rom. 13:11-14 (Douay-Rhiems)
Blessings to you all on this first day of the liturgical year ! I am off to High Mass (Tridentine, in this case), and have little time to write this first post. There will be a long one tomorrow.
God grant us a holy and fruitful Advent season.
11. And that knowing the season; that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep. For now our salvation is nearer than when we believed. 12. The night is passed, and the day is at hand. Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armour of light. 13. Let us walk honestly, as in the day: not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and impurities, not in contention and envy: 14. But put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh in its concupiscences. ~ Rom. 13:11-14 (Douay-Rhiems)
Blessings to you all on this first day of the liturgical year ! I am off to High Mass (Tridentine, in this case), and have little time to write this first post. There will be a long one tomorrow.
God grant us a holy and fruitful Advent season.
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