I took the day off today and didn’t write. Read, thought, prayed the Rosary, and, nope, did not write anything at all. Well, maybe a few notes about things to fix on the blog. Until now. I’m going to share a link to a blog post with you from The Sacred Page, a really excellent site where Brant Pitre, John Bergsma, John Kincaid, and Michael Barber write about the Bible and theology and Catholicism.
Gonna grab some grub in a few minutes and read the rest of the article and then read some other stuff. Got way behind on reading while overhauling the blog (not that I’m finished with that, I’m just finished for a little while) and a whole lotta books are calling my name. Listen. Can ya hear ’em? ;)
Hope your Ascension Sunday (in my neck of the woods, anyway) has been happy and holy. Thanks for visiting and reading. Until next time, whoever and wherever you are, may the Lord bless and keep you and may His peace be always with you. Amen.
We interrupt our reguarly scheduled programming to bring you this important announcement: There are no ascended masters. There is the Ascended Lord, the One Christ Jesus Who ascended into Heaven. He was begotten not made, True God and True Man, One in being with the Father, was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, crucified under Pontius Pilate, suffered, died and was buried. For us men and for our salvation He came down from heaven, and no one—and I mean NO ONE—goes to the Father except through Him.
For the sake of His Sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world.
Miss Lucy Dawg and I are about to sit down to lunch and we wanted to take a moment to say, Happy and Blessed Divine Mercy Sunday, y’all! God bless you, each and every one. I’ll be here on site working on the Rosary Project later on. Need to do a couple of things around the house, then pray the Rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet, which I’ll be adding to the site soon in a new Devotions section. Stay tuned.
Happy Easter, friends! I hope your Lenten season was fruitful and that your Easter season will be richly blessed. My own recovery continues and I’m feeling more and more like myself again. And happy to be back here and active on the site, too.
I’m logged in tonight, building the pages for the Rosary Project. So if you see anything going all wonky, it’s probably not you, it’s probably me, trying something out and discovering that it doesn’t work. ;) I’m going to build the pages, text first, then add the images. Still debating on whether to put several large images on one page or smaller ones linked to larger ones, or just use a gallery for them instead. I dunno. We’ll see what happens. Say a prayer for me that I don’t mess up the entire site somehow and have to start over. I think I’d close it down and go hide in a corner if that happened. Or not. Twitter has made me bolder and more thick-skinned. (That place can be brutal!)
Have a great Easter weekend, y’all. God bless you. May His peace be always with you.
*Translation: The Lord is risen indeed. Praise the Lord!
Twenty-three years ago I experienced my first Holy Thursday liturgy. I remember parts of it, other parts are beginning to fade. I decided to record what I still remember and post it here tonight on this Holy Thursday. Technically, it’s Good Friday now but only by five minutes.
After the Holy Thursday liturgy a few people stayed in the pews to watch with Him. Fr. — had stripped the altar, had set up the tabernacle, palm fronds around it in the dimly lit, darkened nave. Hushed voices became softer and softer until they fell silent as the last stragglers left, leaving just three of us there. In the tabernacle the Lord was preparing to face the ordeal of ordeals. In the pews were His three disciples, fighting to stay awake, nodding off, not understanding what was taking place then, having no idea what would be taking place in a matter of hours.
I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to take in everything, everything I saw or heard or felt. I wanted to hold onto it, to remember. I heard snores behind me. I grew more determined to stay awake and watch.
At nearly midnight, the priest entered the sanctuary with two altar servers, one on either side of him, holding long-handled candle lighters which, in the dimlit darkness, looked exactly like spears. They’ve come to arrest Him! I watched, unable to stop them. I looked around to see if anyone else saw what I did, but they were sound asleep. I was alone, beholding the unfolding scene.
The altar servers stood holding their spear-candlelighters while the priest stepped forward and bent down to open the tabernacle door and lifted the Lord from His place of repose. Then he walked slowly away, the two trailing behind with their spears. They left through the sacristy door. The tabernacle door was left open, exposing the emptiness within. All was silent—except for the snores behind me. I wanted to turn and shake them awake. They arrested Him! They took Him away! Did you not see? Why didn’t you help me? Why didn’t we stop them, why didn’t we help Him?
Ah, get behind me, Satan! “Christ was obedient unto death.” And so must we all be.
I’ve been Catholic now since April 1996 and all I can say is thanks be to God and praise to You, Lord Jesus Christ! Lord, have mercy on us. Make our hearts like unto Thine. Amen!
Image credits: The Agony in the Garden, Luca Giordano; The Taking of Christ, Caravaggio, c. 1602. Wikimedia Commons, public domain.