I
ILdoc82
Guest
Evil as they are, homosexual priests and apostate theologians may not be the biggest problems facing the Catholic Church.
The more insidious tribulations of heterodoxy and the rejection of tradition and solemnity in the Mass have likely done as much damage.
Consider the latest innovations in the modern sacrifice of the Mass: Hand puppets and TV Land lingo.
**Our Parish
**Before reading about that in detail, know that traditionalist Catholics suffer in parishes, such as the one in our town, where the Faith is a mockery of what it was.
The church here built an abominable addition to accommodate growth. The old Church is a small, sturdy, stone edifice worthy of the Church Militant. The addition, to quote a quip I heard, looks little better than a Quaker Meeting House.
Beautiful statues and other Catholic art are absent. The stained glass is sterile and modern, devoid of sacred imagery. The new addition has one holy water receptacle, a baptismal font that resembles a small jacuzzi. Laughably, it was empty during Lent, after the fashion of moron clerics who think “sacrificing” something for Lent means sacrificing the sacramentals. You wonder if they sacrificed the Rosary as well.
Of course, the parish is hip. Altar girls seem to outnumber the altar boys, and often, particularly during summer, you see bare legs under vestments. Shorts and halter tops are proper attire at Mass for the modern Catholic.
This is the physical milieu in which Mass is held, and unsurprisingly, reverence and solemnity are virtually unknown. During the consecration of the Eucharist, for instance, some people defiantly refuse to kneel.
After Mass one day, the vessels of Holy Communion were carried down the main aisle in what appeared to be a repainted shoe-shine box. The music is detestable, often Protestant. One Sunday, some loony woman was shakin’, rattlin’ and rollin’ to a perfectly hideous recessional hymn more appropriate to a tent revival in backwater Alabama. Grabbing my sons, I fled the ecumenical attack in horror.
As for the priest, in the two years my family attended the church, we never heard a sermon on abortion, birth control, divorce, the apostles, the saints, confession, or anything important. The priest never offered a serious exegesis of the readings from Scripture. He rarely mentioned sin, and when he did, he fretted about people sinning against each other, not against God. Hell? Never heard of it. “Titanic,” however, that execrable cinematic vessel of cultural poison, was just great.Thus do we drive 30 miles to attend Mass in a parish with a real Church, real priests and real altar boys, but sometimes the drive is too much. We dread going to Mass here, but with a family of seven, sometimes we compromise.
We always regret it, and this weekend reminded us why. This church, by the way, has a new priest whom we expected to bring a new regime. He did. It’s worse.
At one Mass, a typically undisciplined altar girl, wearing Sponge Bob flip-flops, assisted the priest, who delivered a unique homily. Sermonizing during the usual ballet in front of the altar, his right hand gradually emerged from under his vestments. Out came Winnie The Pooh.
Hand-puppet Pooh observed that we are all God’s puppets, or some such nonsense, then the priest, morphing back to his real self, finished with a few lines that bordered on pantheism.
Stay tuned for next week’s sermon, he said, “same Bat time, same Bat channel.”
This, fellow Catholics, is the Church.
The more insidious tribulations of heterodoxy and the rejection of tradition and solemnity in the Mass have likely done as much damage.
Consider the latest innovations in the modern sacrifice of the Mass: Hand puppets and TV Land lingo.
**Our Parish
**Before reading about that in detail, know that traditionalist Catholics suffer in parishes, such as the one in our town, where the Faith is a mockery of what it was.
The church here built an abominable addition to accommodate growth. The old Church is a small, sturdy, stone edifice worthy of the Church Militant. The addition, to quote a quip I heard, looks little better than a Quaker Meeting House.
Beautiful statues and other Catholic art are absent. The stained glass is sterile and modern, devoid of sacred imagery. The new addition has one holy water receptacle, a baptismal font that resembles a small jacuzzi. Laughably, it was empty during Lent, after the fashion of moron clerics who think “sacrificing” something for Lent means sacrificing the sacramentals. You wonder if they sacrificed the Rosary as well.
Of course, the parish is hip. Altar girls seem to outnumber the altar boys, and often, particularly during summer, you see bare legs under vestments. Shorts and halter tops are proper attire at Mass for the modern Catholic.
This is the physical milieu in which Mass is held, and unsurprisingly, reverence and solemnity are virtually unknown. During the consecration of the Eucharist, for instance, some people defiantly refuse to kneel.
After Mass one day, the vessels of Holy Communion were carried down the main aisle in what appeared to be a repainted shoe-shine box. The music is detestable, often Protestant. One Sunday, some loony woman was shakin’, rattlin’ and rollin’ to a perfectly hideous recessional hymn more appropriate to a tent revival in backwater Alabama. Grabbing my sons, I fled the ecumenical attack in horror.
As for the priest, in the two years my family attended the church, we never heard a sermon on abortion, birth control, divorce, the apostles, the saints, confession, or anything important. The priest never offered a serious exegesis of the readings from Scripture. He rarely mentioned sin, and when he did, he fretted about people sinning against each other, not against God. Hell? Never heard of it. “Titanic,” however, that execrable cinematic vessel of cultural poison, was just great.Thus do we drive 30 miles to attend Mass in a parish with a real Church, real priests and real altar boys, but sometimes the drive is too much. We dread going to Mass here, but with a family of seven, sometimes we compromise.
We always regret it, and this weekend reminded us why. This church, by the way, has a new priest whom we expected to bring a new regime. He did. It’s worse.
At one Mass, a typically undisciplined altar girl, wearing Sponge Bob flip-flops, assisted the priest, who delivered a unique homily. Sermonizing during the usual ballet in front of the altar, his right hand gradually emerged from under his vestments. Out came Winnie The Pooh.
Hand-puppet Pooh observed that we are all God’s puppets, or some such nonsense, then the priest, morphing back to his real self, finished with a few lines that bordered on pantheism.
Stay tuned for next week’s sermon, he said, “same Bat time, same Bat channel.”
This, fellow Catholics, is the Church.
you need to find a more orthordox parish. there is so much of this … and if more people understood the yes’ and no’ of mass they would be much better off.
Singing the theme to ‘The Golden Girls’ (Thank You for Being a Friend), or a surprise visit from The Looney Tunes characters? 
