Retreat

 

It's that time of year when our diocesan clergy go on retreat at the Jesuit set up on Lake Dallas, Montserrat. It's good to get away and refocus on the spiritual life. 

It's been good, too, to hear a series of excellent meditations by Bishop Iker. What an outstanding bishop. But more on this later, it's time for Mass.

Salve,

LSP

Stations of the Cross

 

This is very strange. It's Thursday evening here in Texas and there hasn't been a storm following Stations of the Cross. Who knows, perhaps someone craftily paid off an installment of the hated Weather Tax to appease our idolatrous carbon deity. 

Perhaps, but that didn't detract from the power of this evening's devotion in which we prayed and meditated on our Lord's Passion and Crucifixion, all to the end of finding greater union with his sacrificial action; the same union which is given to us in the Sacrament of Altar.

I find this powerful, by Austin Farrer:

What, then, was done to this body? It was stripped, scourged, and nailed to a cross: stripped of all dignity and all possession, scourged with the stroke of penal justice, and nailed up like a dead thing while it was still alive. The body you receive in this sacrament accomplished its purpose by nailing to a tree. You are to become this body, you are to be nailed: nailed to Christ's sacrificial will. The nails that hold you are God's commandments, your rules of life, prayers, confessions, communions regularly observed. Let us honour the nails for Christ's sake, and pray that by the virtue of his passion they may hold fast.

 

Yes indeed,

God bless,

LSP

Storm

 

What is it about Stations of the Cross on Thursday evenings which invites ferocious weather. I don't pretend to understand the mystic corollary between the Via Dolorosa, Golgotha and our ancient adversary the Weather, but there it is, the battle between Good and Evil played out in the cosmos itself.

It started with brisk wind and slight rain, which fast escalated into a beating tempest. A lull, a calm, a quiet point as birds sang thinking it was Spring. And then?  Clouds rolled in from the South, tornado watch, and it was time to capture the moment from the front porch.

Would this burgeoning storm blast our bucolic farming community or would Weather's wrath pass us by? Thank Gaia, our enemy the Weather chose to strike East and punish the Deep South, like Sherman's army. We pray our brothers and sisters survived.

Stand firm, resolute, and draw the moral of this story as you take it.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Apocalyptic Reflection

 

Ferocious rain whips against this old wooden house as thunder rumbles and lightning flashes apocalyptically across the night sky. What is it about Stations of the Cross on a Texan Thursday evening that brings this on. I don't know, I can't fathom the ways of our old enemy the Weather, but it seems appropriate to this evening's devotion.

After all, what is the crucifixion if not the seeming triumph of Antichrist and with that we're reminded of a bestial number, a threefold series of sixes. St. John casts light on infernal mathematics in his Gospel.

At the sixth hour Christ is met by the harlot at the well. Again at the sixth hour, the followers of Caiaphas the false prophet stamp themselves with the mark of the beast, crying out, "We have no king but Caesar." Then darkness falls upon the land at the sixth hour as Jesus hangs dying on Calvary.

There it is, 666 and the character of Antichrist spelled out, whorish infidelity, idolatrous irreligion, and the murderous extinction of life itself. Such is Satan's revolt against God and the serpent appeared to have won, but not so fast.

The Samaritan woman at the well repents and becomes a great evangelist and martyr, St. Photina, in receipt of living water. The false prophets are swept away and the darkness of the cross gives out to the light of Easter and the empty tomb. Life, light and truth win over the deathly night of the beast.

All this played out in Christ's life, setting the template, model, figure and type of the final battle between good and evil. Every day draws us closer to this point and with it the lines are ever more clearly drawn and distinct. Hasten to enlist on the right side of this divide.

In the meanwhile, thunder and lightning crash down with the very force of the Eschaton itself.

Here endeth the Lesson,

LSP

Stations of the Cross and Benediction

 

"It's almost that time of year, LSP, can you you help out?" asked the Rector of St. Matthias. I zeroed in, like a thermal on a hog, "You'd like me to give a Lent talk? Sure, count me in," and took the last Friday of the course.

My job was to drive to the Metrosprawl yesterday and comment on the last sentence of the Apostles Creed after assisting at Stations of the Cross. Which I did, contrasting the fear, uncertainty and deceit of the world with the boldly asserted truth of the Creed. 

Thurifer, get down!

Then came Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament,  Therefore we, before him bending, this great Sacrament revere; types and shadows have their ending, for the newer rite is here; faith, our outward sense befriending, makes our inward vision clear.

A blessing, and it was good to be back at St. Matthias and its people. The Metrosprawl? Fun to visit Ma LSP's HQ and have dinner with her and BW. Less fun to see all the mask zombies wandering about with their made in China talismans covering their faces, voluntarily. 

"I say, what's that?" "We call it a 'laptop' LSP."

They proudly "follow the science" even though the scientific language on the Chinese mask boxes says, quite specifically, that the facial wares enclosed don't protect the wearer from viruses. You'll remember Goebbels:

If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it. The lie can be maintained only for such time as the State can shield the people from the political, economic and/or military consequences of the lie. It thus becomes vitally important for the State to use all of its powers to repress dissent, for the truth is the mortal enemy of the lie, and thus by extension, the truth is the greatest enemy of the State.

 

He and Magda poisoned their beautiful young children, and then killed themselves as the truth caught up with their lie at the end of the war. Death and destruction, perhaps especially of children, are the hallmarks of the People of the Lie and their Father, who was a murderer from the beginning.

The Ninth Station, Jesus falls for the third time

Compare and contrast that to the God-given truth and life of the Creed.

Your Friend,

LSP

Lightning!

 

No sooner had Stations of the Cross and the obligatory Lenten meal and class finished than it began to rain. Not heavily, but the drops were big, Texan style. Then the wind picked up and ominous rumbling filled the air. Thunder, like the sound of guns along the Oder Front, or Deep Purple.

Lightning began to arc, illuminating clouds which scudded across the firmament of heaven as night turned to electric day. It was easy, at that moment, to believe in the Electric Universe. Roll on, Nicola Tesla.

In other news, it's the Feast of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary tomorrow. Here's the Collect:

WE beseech thee, O Lord, pour thy grace into our hearts; that, as we have known the incarnation of thy Son Jesus Christ by the message of an angel, so by his cross and passion we may be brought into the glory of his resurrection; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

Somehow this seems apt in the storm and my mind goes to  I beheld Satan as lightning fall from heaven.

God bless,

LSP

This & That

The day started off well, with strong covfefe on the porch.

It moved ineluctably to guns, note health food.

And now? Stations of the Cross.

God bless,

LSP

Reconnaissance

On Wednesday there's Stations of the Cross followed by a class on the Apostles' Creed. On Thursday there's Stations of the Cross at a different church, followed by soup and salad and fellowship. That's Lent for you but here's the thing, the second church is close to a lake.

So, after a tasty if frugal meal of soup I drove down to the lake for a recce to see what the fish were up to. 

These New Rods Need To Be Broken In

It felt good to clamber down the limestone bluff as the sun was setting and you could smell Texas; cedar and sage blown in on clean, clear air. It smells like freedom and a land that's barely been settled but did it augur fish?

No, not this time. I didn't see anything break the water, despite the golden hour time of day. They were probably sleeping, like Western Civilization itself before the onslaught of fanatical Jihad. Fish are like that, they lie suspended and unthinking in the chill water of the lake, waiting for warmer weather to stir them on.

Where's The Fish?

Still, even though the fish were asleep at the wheel, the heavens weren't and it was good to see the sun set over the lake.

We'll be back and back in force; there's outrageously good fishing to be had in just this spot. I know this from experience.

Texas

Wait 'til the Bass are blitzing.

Your Old Mate,

LSP

Country Life in Texas, Part Something or Other

Things started off well. Get up with the dawn, walk the dog, drink some coffee, say Morning Prayer and then go for a ride. That meant driving out to my friend's ranch near Aquilla and meeting up with him and two youngsters. I met them riding down the ranch road and told them I'd catch up, and that's what happened. Tack up and gallop.

As always, it was beautiful to ride out in the morning sun and I enjoyed myself weaving in and around the mesquites and going through the gaits. The kids had fun too, though at a more sedate pace. Thanks a lot, RP, for the riding hospitality.

Ride over, I stopped to get some coffee on the way home and learned that a churchperson was very sick in hospital. So I made a swift turnaround and drove to Waco, but not before taking a picture of my neighbor's peacock. It's one of several and likes to roost in the trees when not shrieking with a high and crazed insanity.

The day finished appropriately, with Stations of the Cross, and that's just the way it is.

God bless,

LSP

Huge Hat Small Gun

some fool with a hat

Sometimes extremely large hats seem to go together with smallish guns... but I just got back from a preaching engagement in Dallas. The theme? The two thieves who were crucified alongside Our Lord. They serve as types of sinful humanity and were bad outlaws, which is why they were crucified. One repents, so there's hope for us all.

When I was invited to speak at this Lenten series and told that the theme was on various aspects of the Stations, I said, "Sure, I'll talk on the thieves." The Senior Warden looked at me and said, "I thought you would."

I find that vaguely unsettling.

God bless,

LSP

Shot Dead

I was driving to the local Tom Thumb after early morning Mass in Dallas when I noticed flashing lights in the rear-view. The cops were out in force.

Seems that a gunman was waiting outside the local Western Union for a cash delivery. When the armored car pulled up everything got "stand and deliver" but the driver wasn't having any of that, so he got shot in the arm, returned fire and fatally wounded the robber, who died later in hospital. 

I use that Western Union from time to time. Maybe I'll reconsider.

Stations of the Cross tonight. 

Die to wickedness and sin.

LSP