This is one of those days in Catholicism that sounds like so many hoops to everyone else, like a Pelagian's great idea, but to a Catholic who knows that he can't do anything without grace, it's like winning the lottery.
Divine Mercy. The short, short version is that Jesus gave some visions to St. Faustina about the greatness of his love, and of his suffering, and also relayed some prayers to us. The gist of what He said was, "You cannot fathom how much I love sinners. If you only knew..." Once again, days like today tempt me to laugh in the face of those who say that the faith is about rules. Which Catholic Church is that again?
But if you must know, Mass, Confession, and prayer for the pope gets thee out of Purgatory. I'm not really worried about it, because it's not Hell, for one thing. What a mercy it really is, if we understand the holiness of God, and his fatherly care. All the same, I'm not opposed to skipping it altogether.
I had just gone to Confession on Thursday, but there is a lingering wound from some time ago. I still don't think it's fair, and I still get mad. And knowing, Heaven help me, that I have been angry enough about it to not pray for the person who hurt me, I should ask for the grace and love to let it go. It was my fault, but two wrongs don't make a right. The priest said I should pray for that person whenever I can. I cannot control how people react to things. I certainly feel sorrow about what happened. And he said I could give that to God. Unite it to the sufferings of Christ. Easier said than done. But I prayed for my friend as though the bonds had never been broken. At least today, I can say that.
I think the Mass is the greatest thing since sliced (unconsecrated) bread. I'm pretty used to my Latin Rite, and probably won't leave. But here, there, and everywhere, let's just say that the liturgies of the true People of God are the most beautiful song this side of Heaven. I do my best to keep my head in the game, but results may vary.
Father Chrismation (names altered to protect the innocent) seems like a very holy priest. His homilies are great. But I daresay he will not win style points for the manner in which he says the Mass. It seems like he is afraid of messing it up. So it's quick and devoid of vocal personality. He and Father "Jim Boeheim" should say Mass together and see if they can set a speed record. [Does that other priest really look like Coach Boeheim?--ed.] Yes, man. I'm telling you. I've stopped short of asking him what he's doing here since the Orange have a game in two hours like 12 times. [You watch too much sports.--ed.] I know.
And so it was. I absolutely know that you'll never go anywhere or do anything without knowing utterly that you are loved by God. Even if that knowing passes like winds through forests, and comes again. But to presume upon it is something else. Let us at least desire to be found in Him. If they call us fools, so be it.
Divine Mercy. The short, short version is that Jesus gave some visions to St. Faustina about the greatness of his love, and of his suffering, and also relayed some prayers to us. The gist of what He said was, "You cannot fathom how much I love sinners. If you only knew..." Once again, days like today tempt me to laugh in the face of those who say that the faith is about rules. Which Catholic Church is that again?
But if you must know, Mass, Confession, and prayer for the pope gets thee out of Purgatory. I'm not really worried about it, because it's not Hell, for one thing. What a mercy it really is, if we understand the holiness of God, and his fatherly care. All the same, I'm not opposed to skipping it altogether.
I had just gone to Confession on Thursday, but there is a lingering wound from some time ago. I still don't think it's fair, and I still get mad. And knowing, Heaven help me, that I have been angry enough about it to not pray for the person who hurt me, I should ask for the grace and love to let it go. It was my fault, but two wrongs don't make a right. The priest said I should pray for that person whenever I can. I cannot control how people react to things. I certainly feel sorrow about what happened. And he said I could give that to God. Unite it to the sufferings of Christ. Easier said than done. But I prayed for my friend as though the bonds had never been broken. At least today, I can say that.
I think the Mass is the greatest thing since sliced (unconsecrated) bread. I'm pretty used to my Latin Rite, and probably won't leave. But here, there, and everywhere, let's just say that the liturgies of the true People of God are the most beautiful song this side of Heaven. I do my best to keep my head in the game, but results may vary.
Father Chrismation (names altered to protect the innocent) seems like a very holy priest. His homilies are great. But I daresay he will not win style points for the manner in which he says the Mass. It seems like he is afraid of messing it up. So it's quick and devoid of vocal personality. He and Father "Jim Boeheim" should say Mass together and see if they can set a speed record. [Does that other priest really look like Coach Boeheim?--ed.] Yes, man. I'm telling you. I've stopped short of asking him what he's doing here since the Orange have a game in two hours like 12 times. [You watch too much sports.--ed.] I know.
And so it was. I absolutely know that you'll never go anywhere or do anything without knowing utterly that you are loved by God. Even if that knowing passes like winds through forests, and comes again. But to presume upon it is something else. Let us at least desire to be found in Him. If they call us fools, so be it.
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