Was that a butterfly coughing or a Bishop speaking out?

My Tesco trolley from now on

It's been around for a few days now and I've been thinking on't as they say in Herriot country. This is the news that supermarket giant, Tesco is to sponsor the London Pride Gay March. What to do? Take away my custom? OK but it needs a few more than Mrs Linen and myself to make an impresssion on their multi billion annual turnover.

I also object to the title of the homosexual sashay (one can hardly call it a march). London Pride is a very fine bitter brewed by Fuller's; it is also an attractive herbaceous plant. Neither deserve to be associated with the nauseating shenanigans that take place on these occasions.

Not a pansy, it's London Pride!

Thankfully, we have the English Bishops of England and Wales who, as our leaders, boldly step into the breach to proclaim the teachings of the Catholic Faith and to lead us in this battle against immorality.

So what do they have to say on the matter? One minute, here it is......umm....well.....it sort of appears as if.....ummm...err....so far there has not been a statement on the matter.



A Clouded Bishop Butterfly

But I wish that butterfly would stop coughing!

You might like to write to politely complain to Tesco's CEO,
(every letter helps!)

Mr Phillip Clarke
Tesco Stores Ltd.,
New Tesco House
Delamere Road
Cheshunt
EN8 9SL



Could you get insured - against becoming Catholic?

I mean, why not? Do I look like a Catholic? Speak like one?

Can you see evidence of my faith in my manner or my dress?

Do my actions betray me?

Just how should a Catholic appear?  What insurance company would take me on?

The Acme might just consider it.......

Forgive them Father for they know not what they do





The horror of the recent stage play (click here) in France where the face of Christ was publicly defiled  reminded me of this poem…for Birmingham read ‘Paris’

 A famous poem by an Anglican vicar:

When Jesus came to Golgotha

they hanged him on a tree.

They drave great nails through

hands and feet,

And made a Calvary.

They crowned Him with a crown of thorns,

red were His wounds and deep.

For those were crude and cruel days,

And human flesh was cheap.

When Jesus came to Birmingham

they simply passed Him by.

They never hurt a hair of Him,

they only let Him die.

For men had grown more tender,

And they would not give Him pain,

they only just passed down the street

and left Him in the rain.

Still, Jesus cried,

“Forgive them for they know not what they do,”

and still it rained the wintry rain

that drenched Him through and through;

the crowds went home and left the streets

without a soul to see,

and Jesus crouched against a wall

and cried for Calvary.

G A Studdert-Kennedy

In Flanders the poppies were red...let's keep them that way

The First World War was, arguably, the worst man-made holocaust the world has ever seen.
Constant shelling, gun batteries drawn by mules and horses, heavy supply wagons and  men by the hundred thousand, all created a battlefield that was a swamp of mud with bodies lying several feet deep in some places.

Picardy and Flanders were the areas most devastated but, in the midst of what must have been a foul smelling Spring time, red poppies sprang up across No man's land - the only vegetation to grow under those conditions.

The shedding of blood symbolised by

the red poppy

Ever since, the red poppy has become a symbol of the fallen war dead or those incapacitated by war.

It is used as a means of fund raising by the Royal British Legion and the cash raised from the sale of poppy badges goes to provide for the welfare of the men and women of the armed forces who have fought on our behalf and who are now suffering as a result.

A few years ago a group of CND types and Quakers introduced a white poppy as a counter to the red.

And now the white poppy campaign is slowly gaining momentum and this just must not be allowed to continue.

Offered under the strapline "White poppies for a culture of Peace" the campaign carefully inserts the innuendo that a red poppy must stand for war.

That is, of course, just not true.

The red poppy and all the ceremonies and church services surrounding Remembrance Sunday are aimed at helping us to remember the sacrifices made on our behalf; they do not ever 'glorify' war.

The white poppy exercise is, I believe, a pacifist manoeuvre and I hold no respect for pacifists who abstain from their duty at times of national crisis.
It is also unclear as to where the cash raised from white poppy sales goes to.


This is the famous poem by John McCrae.....

                                           

 In Flanders fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

       

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.



So this year, wear a red poppy as a token of gratitude to those who gave their lives, limbs or good health as a sacrifice on our behalf.

A Missa Cantata will be held at the Church of St Therese de Lisieux, Sandfields, Port Talbot on Sunday 13th November at 5pm.

Celebrant: Fr Paul Brophy

Free them from their sins Lord

Absolve Domine......for the Holy Souls

Remember, each day, the Holy Souls

Libera Me

Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna
in die illa tremenda
quando coeli movendi sunt et terra,
dum veneris judicare saeculum per ignem.

Tremens factus sum ego et timeo,
dum discussion venerit atque venture ira:
quando coeli movendi sunt et terra.

English Translation:

Deliver me, O Lord, from eternal death
on that awful day
when the heavens and earth shall be shaken
and you shall come to judge the world by fire.

I am seized with fear and trembling
until the trial is at hand and the wrath to come:
when the heavens and earth shall be shaken.

 

Sin - on four wheels!

A couple of Sundays ago I was reminded of the old saying when life deals you a bitter blow - "What has fairness got to do with it?"




The Road to Perdition


I was returning from a distant Mass and enjoying the spiritual afterglow as well as the beautiful North Pembrokeshire countryside and my mind, admittedly, was on a higher plane level. The roads were clear and free of traffic as only the  roads of Baptist country can be at 5 o'clock on a Sunday afternoon.

Suddenly, as I rounded a bend, there was a police speed trap. I did not falter one iota; I kept on at my steady pace, confident in the belief that I was a law abiding citizen; ahead of me stretched a half mile of visibly open road - dim problem as they say in those parts.

And then, ten days later I received a speeding summons. For driving at 35 miles per hour in a 30 mile limit area! Is there no justice, Lord?

The episode reminded me of how the great Archbishop Fulton Sheen used to address priests attending one of his retreats.

He would begin by saying:

"Who amongst you is with sin?"  There would be an uncomfortable silence and a 'no show' of hands.

"Alright" the Archbishop would say, "who amongst you broke the speed limit on the way here?" Red faces all  round.

It is a fact that we so often take everyday offences for granted and forget to tag them with the 'sin' label.

Breaking the reasonable law of the land is a sin; driving beyond the capacity of road conditions is a sin.
Not maintaining the service level of your car is a sin, maybe a small one of the venial variety but, if you injured someone in a car that you had deliberately or negligently not kept at the correct levels of safety, it would be a much more serious sin, possibly of the mortal variety.

Now comes the part that Protestant readers of this blog (if they exist, which I doubt) will throw their hands in the air and say: "I told you so".

Did I confess my 'transgression?' No. Why?

Well I thought about it long and hard and reasoned that my speeding was a result of human error and ignorance.
All had looked good on the road; I was in a 30 mile zone on the outward road from a small village and, within the next hundred yards it switched to being a 60 mph zone (I had thought all along that I was in a 60 mph zone).

I had not wilfully broken the law.

That has no currency in man's court, but, in God's, it does.

God of mercy and compassion

One of the best hymns...and perfect for November

For the deceased family, friends and benefactors of all who read this blog

Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord

And let perpetual light shine upon them.

May they rest in peace.

Amen

An English chapel and a bottle of water from Wales

Today, November 3rd is the feastday of St *Winifred of Wales, or, in the Welsh tongue, Gwenffrewi Sant.

A noblewoman of the 7th century she rebuffed the advances of a local by the name of Caradog as she wished to remain chaste and to dedicate her life to Almighty God as a nun.

According to the records, Caradog was enraged at being thwarted in love and he took his sword and decapitated the young woman on the spot.

Life in Wales was pretty bloody in those days and Winifred's brother, Owain, sought and actually killed Caradog in a violent act of revenge.

Now the tale becomes somewhat twisted as some accounts state that the young saint  was then restored fully and her head rejoined to her body by her uncle, Saint Beuno. Other accounts state that she made a pilgrimage to Rome and became Abbess at Gwytherin in North Wales.

She is the patron, obscurely of payroll clerks and, more obviously, of virgins.

"The Welsh Lourdes", Holywell

Where her head had fallen a well sprang up and was found to have a curative effect on the sick and diseased.
It became a place of pilgrimage and remains an important focal point for pilgrims today.

The Latin Mass Society organises a pilgrimage each year in July and the well has earned its reputation as the "Welsh Lourdes".

Now come with me to the English Midlands, some 150 miles or so from Holywell, shrine of St Winifred.

We are entering a small 15th century manor house called Baddesley Clinton, we proceed up the stairs and across the landing to enter a Chapel; one that  was once a Recusant Chapel where priests on the run covertly celebrated Mass for the family and friends. Possibly, even, linen was draped on the hedgerow to indicate a Mass that day.

The Chapel appears, more or less, as it was nearly 500 years ago but, on the window ledge stands a bottle half filled with water. Pick it up, shake it, it is clear as....well, it's gin clear. Not a sign of green algae, yet it has stood in full sunlight for some considerable time, months or even years.

Besides the bottle is a card that simply states: "Water from St Winifred's Well"

I asked several guides for information on the bottle but there was no enlightenment, doubtless, members of the family kept it there to bless themselves with...who knows?

But it was good to find such a poignant reminder of my adopted home in the heart of England.

Prayer to St. Winifred

O blessed Winifred, pure virgin and glorious martyr, so especially chosen, so divinely graced and so wonderfully restored from death to life!

Hope of all that fly unto thee with full confidence and humility!

We, though, unworthy, yet thy devoted pilgrims, make our petitions unto thee. Sanctuary of piety, look upon us with patient eyes; receive our prayers, accept our offerings, and present our supplications at the throne of mercy, that through thy powerful intercessions God may be pleased to bless us, and to grant our requests and desires; through Christ our Lord.

Amen

                            ST WINIFRED - ORA PRO NOBIS

* also Winifride or Winefride

Catholic demonstrators take London by storm!

40 Days for Life volunteers praying outside the

BPAS abortuary in Bedford Square

Picture: 40 Days for Life

But, on a sadder note, an attempt to hold a fund raising event on behalf of SPUC by volunteers in Bath appears to have fallen on deaf ears.

No response from Bishop Declan Lang whose permission the volunteers sought to use the City's Main RC Church Hall....it was due to be held on November 5th but it now looks as if it will be a damp squib! Ugh!

The Feast of The Holy Souls

A soul is carried up to Heaven

See A Reluctant Sinner's post for a very beautiful account of those souls most in need.

Through our intercession, by means of prayer, we can aid the release of souls from the torments of Purgatory.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace. Amen.

Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine; et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace. Amen.

Dies irae, dies illa
Day of wrath and doom impending,
David's word with Sibyl's blending,
Heaven and earth in ashes ending!

O what fear man's bosom rendeth,
When from Heaven the Judge descendeth,
On whose sentence all dependeth!

Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth,
Through earth's sepulchres it ringeth,
All before the throne it bringeth.

Death is struck, and nature quaking,
All creation is awaking,
To its Judge an answer making.

Lo! the book exactly worded,
Wherein all hath been recorded;
Thence shall judgment be awarded.

When the Judge His seat attaineth,
And each hidden deed arraigneth,
Nothing unavenged remaineth.

What shall I, frail man, be pleading?
Who for me be interceding,
When the just are mercy needing?

King of majesty tremendous,
Who dost free salvation send us,
Fount of pity, then befriend us!

Think, kind Jesu!-----my salvation
Caused Thy wondrous Incarnation;
Leave me not to reprobation.

Faint and weary Thou hast sought me,
On the Cross of suffering bought me;
Shall such grace be vainly brought me?

Righteous Judge! for sin's pollution
Grant Thy gift of absolution,
 Ere that day of retribution.

Guilty, now I pour my moaning,
All my shame with anguish owning;
Spare, O God, thy suppliant groaning!
Through the sinful woman shriven,
Through the dying thief forgiven,
Thou to me a hope hast given.

Worthless are my prayers and sighing,
Yet, good Lord, in grace complying,
Rescue me from fires undying.

With Thy sheep a place provide me,
From the goats afar divide me,
To Thy right hand do thou guide me.

When the wicked are confounded,
Doomed to shame and woe unbounded,
 Call me, with Thy Saints surrounded.

Low I kneel, with heart's submission,
See, like ashes my contrition!
Help me in my last condition!

Ah! that day of tears and mourning!
 From the dust of earth returning,
Man for judgment must prepare him:

Spare, O God, in mercy spare him!
Lord, all-pitying, Jesu blest,
Grant them Thine eternal rest. Amen.

MOST loving Jesus, I humbly beseech Thee, that Thou Thyself wouldst offer to Thine eternal Father on behalf of the Holy Souls in Purgatory, the Most Precious Blood which poured forth from the sacred Wounds of Thine adorable Body, together with Thine agony and death. And do thou likewise, O sorrowful Virgin Mary, present unto Him, together with the dolorous Passion of thy dear Son, thine own sighs and tears, and all the sorrows thou didst suffer in His suffering, in order that, through the merits of the same, refreshment may be granted to the Souls now suffering in the fiery torments of Purgatory, so that, being delivered from that painful prison, they may be clothed with glory in Heaven, there to sing the mercies of God for ever and ever. Amen.Absolve, O Lord, the Souls of all the faithful departed from every bond of sin, that with Thy gracious assistance they may deserve to escape the judgment of vengeance and enjoy the blessedness of everlasting light.

Prayer for Deceased Parents

O God, Who hast commanded us to honour our father and our mother, in Thy mercy have pity on the souls of my father and mother, and forgive them their trespasses, and make me to see them again in the joy of everlasting brightness. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

 Prayer for the Faithful Departed

O Most compassionate Jesus, have mercy on the Souls detained in Purgatory, for whose redemption Thou didst take upon Thyself our nature and endure a bitter death. Mercifully hear their sighs, look with pity upon the tears which they now shed before Thee, and by virtue of Thy Passion, release them from the pains due to their sins. O most merciful Jesus, let Thy Precious Blood reach down into Purgatory and refresh and revive the captive souls who suffer there. Stretch out to them Thy strong right hand, and bring them forth into the place of refreshment, light and peace. Amen.

Anti capitalists are the new reds!

It all looks so very familiar - banners and placards proclaiming 'tax the rich' and 'need not greed' and I am sure there are a few 'ban the bomb' ones as well in the midst of the mob.
I can just about remember the Aldermaston marches in the 1950s and the demonstrators look exactly the same. The same people rioted in France in the 1960s with the student protests and, I am sure that every decade since has seen them put in an appearance for some cause or another.
Private Eye dubbed them 'Rent a Mob' and this does have the ring of truth about it even if we are now seeing the grandchildren of the CND movement camping outside St Paul's Cathedral in the City of London.

Where next? The Piazza outside Westminster Cathedral? That thought must be clamping a few sphincter muscles in Archbishop's House.

Of course, the danger is that we all wish to subscribe to the sentiments, or at least the essence of them, as paraded on Wall Street and the City of London; we all want an end to war, we all want an end to poverty. The problem is, how do we achieve it?

Bankers are the new lepers and the constant cries are get rid, sack, legislate. But, in reality, we do need financiers with skill and flair and we do need to pay them handsomely.

Pre War Germany treated the Jews in a similar fashion; they were branded as capitalist leeches feeding off the backs of the poor. Are we in danger of falling into the same trap?
 And the French Revolution was aimed at the landowners and the wealthy - was it right to guillotine those people just because of their heritage?

Stalin and Mao made the grave error of attempting to iron out the social and economic troughs of the Russian and Chinese populations by introducing schemes making 'all men equal'.

The cabbage farmer who laboured industriously from dawn to dusk received the same rewards as his lazy neighbour who let the land run to weeds and ruin.
Then the industrious farmer threw in his hand seeing no advantage in working hard. And the people starved to death in their millions - the poor first and foremost.

The equal division of land, money, property, just does not work and it is also unfair. It is difficult to generalise here because we all know of genuine cases of poverty who are suffering through no fault of their own and who have worked hard to try to get out of their situation.

But a large proportion of the less wealthy (I regard the starving peoples of Ethiopia and The Sudan as being the real poor) make no attempt to 'improve their position' as Mr Pickwick might have put it.

The sticky end of the welfare state stick is the belief that one's country has a duty to clothe and feed you regardless of effort. There is an apathy regarding self improvement in Great Britain; Lord Tebbit was right when he said that the unemployed should get on their bike and look for work. And I can say that with conviction because I have had to do that several times during my career - it is hard and unpleasant but a damn sight better than taking handouts.

So, consider for one minute, what will happen in 48 hours time when the unhappy campers of St Paul's get moved on by the force of law?

Will Archbishop Nichols welcome them with open arms?

Will there, perhaps be a condemnation of such activities from a church spokesman? (Don't hold your breath)

This is how communism gets a grip; it happened in China, Russia, Italy, Cuba, and it almost happened in Portugal but, thanks to Our Lady of Fatima the plans of the reds crumbled to dust. We need her intercession now to help the poor and the starving as well to aid the bankers. After all, we all know how much they are going to have to reduce their weight by to get through the eye of the needle!

This woman holds a card that strikes a common chord with me

H/T to Small Dead Animals blog
http://www.smalldeadanimals.com/archives/018232.html#comments