Musings of an Entish Presby-Catholic medievalist on training the soul in virtue in the postmodern West
Nurture Faith
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Apropos the current conversation on whether (liberal) Christianity can be saved, my thoughts as a member of our vestry on our mission to nurture faith.
Once upon a time, there was a man named Theophilus who made a bargain with the devil. Thank God that Our Lady was able to help him! Do you want to know the full story? Listen here ! * The Prayer of Theophilus O miserable wretch that I am, what have I done and what have I wrought?... Where shall I, unhappy sinner, go, who have denied my Christ and his holy mother ( Christum meum et sanctam eius genitricem ) and have made myself a servant of the devil ( seruum diaboli ) through a chirograph of wicked warrant ( per nefande cautionis chirographum )? Who, do you think, will be able to pull it away from the hand of the devil, the destroyer, and help me? Why was it necessary for me to become acquainted with that wicked Hebrew who should be burned? (For this same Hebrew had been condemned a little while before by law and judge.) Why indeed? For thus are they honored, who forsaking God and the Lord, run to the devil.... Woe ...
It all started with a bat. Bats fly about at night. I’m sure you’ve seen them in Halloween decorations, flying across the Moon. Once upon a time, people knew to be wary of the Moon, with its 28-day cycle ( according to NASA, 27-days ) and its affinity for the feminine. Back in the Middle Ages, before Copernicus used his number magic to prove that the Earth revolves around the Sun, people understood that the sublunary sphere—that is, the Earth with its atmosphere—was a place of transience and change. People were wary of the Moon with its reflected light and its dark splotches. Were they shadows? Were they seas? People knew to pay attention to the Moon—and not just on Halloween. Moon magic—or so they knew, back in the Dark Ages—is dangerous. Moon magic drives men mad. Moon magic makes people put on masks and hide from the sun. Moon magic turns living souls into ghosts. * I went grocery shopping with my brother the other day. We are in Texas, staying with our mother, praying for our ...
By Mel of the Dragon Common Room Do not buy Satan’s greatest trick that Christians can’t be Catholic. Holy dead will rise! Open your own eyes! Divided families remain sick. The battle to keep chastity— a true struggle of vanity. Humiliation, mortification teaching us through the Trinity! Most people He will require purification by fire. Holy repentance, heavenly entrance permits a righteous retire. Her greetings hailed by an angel! Her answer fiat – miracle! Conceived Holy Ghost, seek higher than most! Mary is his Tabernacle! Nothing is impossible with God; through the darkness His light will prod! This is not pagan; don’t be mistaken! Understand, and don’t be a fraud! Try not to rewrite history misunderstanding mysteries! Buried in our graves we’re no longer slaves: traditions of our Rosary! What were the pagan rituals? NOT scruples, those aren’t mutual. Animal slaughters? Sacrificed daughters? Temple worship? Procedurals? Th...
Like Jesus , Francis of Assisi did some pretty outrageous things. Everybody knows how he went and preached to the birds, but not everybody knows why he did it. It wasn't, as certain 1970s movies would have it, because he was a nature-loving hippie (although I do love Donavan's soundtrack, especially the theme song). It was because the human beings he was preaching to wouldn't listen. He had wanted to preach the word of God in Rome, but when he arrived there, the people scorned him because he was dressed poorly, so they thought him an idiot. He tried for several days to gain their attention, but could not overcome their hardness of heart. "I grieve deeply over your misfortune," he told them, "because you are not only spurning me as a servant of Christ, but you are also really despising Him in me, since I have been preaching to you the Gospel of the Redeemer of the world. And so I am now leaving Rome. And I call as witness of your desolation Him who is t...
I’ve started this post in my head several times in the last few days, but it keeps changing before I get an opportunity to sit down and write. At first it was simply going to be a “Where’s Waldo” reflection on looking for statues of the Blessed Virgin Mary on street corners (they’re everywhere here in Belgium; statues, that is, not just street corners). But then I started worrying about what this profusion of Marys might mean. A day or so ago, I hit my Protestant wall: I was no longer tickled to spot yet another Virgin peeking out over the doorway or under a spangled canopy overlooking the street, but rather almost disgusted at the near idolatry of it all. Then I started getting depressed. Was I the only one even paying attention to the fact that the Virgin Mother of God was supposedly watching over every street? Many of the statues are chipped and apparently uncared for. Perhaps Belgians notice them only when tourists clutter up the sidewalk taking pictures of them. I started ...
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F.B.