Pope Benedict’s Sunday message (speaking about Isaiah, Paul, and Peter):
“In these three experiences we see how the true encounter with God brings man to recognize his own poverty and inadequacy, his own limits and sin. “But,” said Pope Benedict, “regardless of the fragility, the Lord, rich in mercy and forgiveness, transforms the life of man and he calls him to follow him.”
Allow me to introduce myself. I go by Gothmog, and I have used some underworld tricks to hack into Devin’s blog. He doesn’t know about it (yet), but even when he finds out, he will have a hard time finding out how I have broken in.
Who am I? Something you would call evil. I’m like Sauron in the Lord of the Rings, that detestable trilogy by Tolkien (who managed to escape our grasp–he and his twit friend Lewis). Sauron was first lieutenant under Morgoth. Hopefully you get the picture; I don’t have time to explain it all. Suffice it to say that me and my Master “have been through Hell and back.”
Well, Devin’s been writing for years now about this and that and whatever. I haven’t read all his posts (has anyone?), but lately it’s been all about “ecumenism” and “Christian unity,” two hated concepts where I’m from (though we’ve managed to subvert the first one pretty thoroughly). I’ve hacked his little blog here to weigh in with my thoughts about these issues, infinitely more interesting and worthwhile, I can assure you.
I’ll start with 1054 AD, the culmination of our Great Work, which you fools call the Great Schism or something like that.
I was infesting an area around the city once known as Constantinople. Those were heady days, stirring up pride within men’s hearts in such a great city; love it every time! You all know what happened. The Pope’s reps swagger down the aisle of some important church and throw down a bull of excommunication against the Patriarch of Constantinople. Such a sight, so beautiful.
Our hard work had paid off, but the whole thing could have been ruined by an act of humility on either side. Deliciously, none were made. No, just good ol’ pride–heavy and self-justifying–from everyone involved. Rome acting with its usual triumphalism, lording it over the lesser Sees, and that swelling jewel of the East, Constantinople, refusing to bow to anyone, much less that conquered, backward, stink-hole of a city out west.
Christianity was cloven solidly in two! We rejoiced like never before. Arius got close centuries prior but disappointed the big hopes we had pinned on him. This, however, this was the coup de grace: West from East, bishop against bishop, idiot successor of the Apostles Scourges against idiot successor. The East was broken into independent little churchy fiefdoms. The Catholic Church had one of its lungs punctured and deflated, and with only one lung left to breathe…we can squeeze, oh yes, we can squeeze hard.
All the Church Fathers, and all the Church men, couldn’t put the stupid Church back together again. (A delightful little rhyme I made up for the occasion.)
Nothing makes our work easier than divided Christians. “Divide and Conquer” is actually our Master’s motto, and in the 11th century, we struck a great blow for Division with the Catholic-Orthodox schism. Imagine our fear nowadays that Joseph Supreme Moron Ratzinger is making overtures to the Orthodox. I admit it: he’s landed more than a few solid blows on our collective chin, and his humility is disgusting, but we’ve lived through worse popes than him and come out on top.
That reminds me–I almost got carried away writing to you sniveling Christian twerps–I need to go stir up some more pride and triumphalism pronto if I’m going to stop this Reunion (which we call the Feared Disaster) from occurring. My Master has entrusted this vital task for all Helldom to me, and he doesn’t look on failure kindly.
P.S. I don’t have a picture yet but once I can figure out this infernal blog software’s image uploading I will be sure to post one so you can admire my handsome mug.
I didn’t join twitter for a long time because I thought it was stupid to tell people what I was doing every 15 minutes (and in under 140 characters).
Well, I joined twitter anyway a few weeks ago, and all of my worst suspicions were confirmed: it was weird, people I followed started following me (which at first I thought was an honor, until I learned that it is just twitter etiquette), I had to start using one of those odd url shortening services (e.g. bit.ly/38af). The whole thing stunk of seafood, which I just told you I detest.
But now it has grown on me, and though I am still a babe lost in the woods with it, I’m beginning to see the cool-factor. Case in point: I’m following Michael Pollan. (If you don’t know him, he’s one of the sustainable agriculture gurus behind lots of books and movies about why our industrial-ag food system isn’t the great thing we all grew up thinking it was–Andrews family and other farmers, don’t be offended, I still love y’all.)
So now when Michael Pollan(!) does something or sees something or finds something cool (like, a European interview with Joel Salatin wearing a suit and tie), I know about it and can check it out. Following someone on twitter let’s you in on what that someone has found or is learning about, and does so instantly.
Still think it’s stupid? I don’t blame you. Unlike visiting Israel, my life will probably be the same even after using twitter, but as a micro-blogging, “look what I just saw” way to communicate with others, I can totally dig(g) it.
So what are you waiting for, follow me on twitter, so that, in the words of the inimitable Mark Shea, no thought of mine, no matter how stupid, will ever go unpublished again!
I don’t like seafood.
But Jesus liked seafood. The Bible is full of him and his disciples catching and eating fish, which presents a problem, since he liked it and created it to be something good, but I don’t like it.
I figured out a solution to this problem earlier tonight.
Seafood was really good for people in Jesus’ time and in the Apostolic Age, but after the death of the last Apostle (St. John), seafood was no longer good to eat, so it’s okay that I dislike it.
I see this as a new form of Christian dispensationalism and am looking for some obscure biblical passages to support it. Feel free to help me find some (and I’m not averse to mining them out of the Old Testament, either).
Katie and I awoke this morning somewhere during the 4 am hour to little Edmund’s crying. I held him for a while, but nothing soothes our little guy like his mama, so she calmed him down and we got up for good around 5:30 am, our normal time.
I made eggs for me and Katie while she got ready for the day, as well as some coffee which was given to me as a gift for Christmas. Read the daily Bible readings (anointing of the sick foreshadowing in the Gospel today by the way), then I heard some coughing and crying in the boys’ room at 6:30 am, so I went in and gave Leo some medicine to help his cough and congestion.
At 7 am, Adele began knocking on her door (from the inside)–her way of letting us know that she was awake and ready to come out (it’s really cute). I went in and gave her a hug, then brought her into the boys’ room to begin changing them all and dressing them.
The great thing: All three children were happy! They were playing together, laughing, and obeying my voice. It was so heartening to see them in such good spirits, especially after the past several weeks of difficult behavior, and Katie and I both agreed that it was a foretaste of how things will be more and more often as we all begin to bond deeply as a family.
It’s been a whirlwind the past few months, and though we guessed ahead of time that it would be like this when we said yes to the invitation to welcome Adele into our family, we didn’t fully realize how challenging and fun and exhausting and beautiful that it would be.
This is our family. Not the way we expected it to happen, but the way that God in his unfathomable wisdom and brilliance planned it out and, step-by-step, revealed it to us.
In his gracious acceptance of the St. Edmund Campion award, Anglican Archbishop Rowan Williams avoids confronting the painful irony that Campion was martyred by Anglican Protestants for being a Catholic.
And so, in very gratefully and humbly accepting this generous award, I would want to join with you all in celebrating the fact that “pardon’s the word to all,” the fact that man and woman is more than this or that, and the fact that in our hearts God has placed his image, which means the capacity for reconciliation and the capacity for utter and radical gift. That gift, that compassion, that readiness for risk, we love and acknowledge and celebrate in saints like Edmund Campion.
via America Magazine – Rowan Williams’ Remarks.
Hat tip to my friend Phil (who really needs to create a blog).
Imagine my surprise when, just five-minutes ago, I heard footsteps outside my door. Because, it is nap time, and I was just congratulating myself on the fact that each of my four children was sleeping soundly and thinking with satisfaction that I was about to join them for a much-needed nap.
Except for the fact that now, three of the four are awake and not very happy about it. Because, you see, I have a very enterprising 2-year old who likes to act as the liberator of her brothers. So, apparently, she awoke early from her nap and, while Mama was not looking, went in to the boys’ room, awoke them from their naps, and let them out of their room (their door has a child-proof handle on the inside, so as to keep them in–we are such brutal parents).
Edmund is still sleeping soundly, like a good boy, but the older three are awake. Too bad for them, however, because I still need a nap. So, I have now decreed it time for “quiet play” in their rooms, so that I can get an hour of much needed sleep. Hmmph.
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