"Precious Blood"

Last week I filled in an hour of adoration for a friend of the family away on vacation.

It was late, and of course, I was tired, and sometimes when I'm tired I have a hard time concentrating on prayer. I picked up the hymnal. It was a good one, no Bernadette Farrell or Dolores Dufner. This chapel is at a Franciscan Friary dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the friars there don't put up with any bull.

I was struck by this verse of "Precious Blood", the Italian hymn Viva, Viva Gesu, translated by Frederick William Faber, Cong. Orat. :

3. Oh, Sweetest Blood, that can implore
Pardon of God, and heav'n restore,
The heav'n which sin had lost,
While Abel's blood for vengeance pleads,
What Jesus shed still intercedes
For those who wrong him most.

No pandering, diversity praising, self-congratulations. No "Gather Us In" or "Sing a New Church" in this place.

No, we worship the God who paid the price of our sin. In paying any ransom, the cost must be something dear, something we want not to part with. Ransom has to hurt to be a ransom. But all of the universe is God's creation; by His word it exists, by His will it came to be, and if He willed it so (God forbid!), it would all cease to be. All of creation is external to God, and is not "of Him." Truly, and this is not a limit on God, but a recognition that He is necessary, and we are not, He had nothing with which to pay off a creature's debt except that which is truly His: His own Son, inseparable from and co-equal with Himself.

And in the flesh, Christ had nothing to give of Himself but the very lifeblood in his veins, which He shed willingly: "No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own. I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again." (John 10:18) As Isaiah foretold of Him, "Like a lamb led to the slaughter or a sheep before the shearers, he was silent and opened not his mouth." (Is 53:7)

All for us! "But he was pierced for our offenses, crushed for our sins, Upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole, by his stripes we were healed." (Is 53:5) We sometimes get the erroneous impression that the Church is a social club of good-feeling people, or a wax museum of long-dead saints. But it is a hospital for sinners. People have been scandalized by the visible sins of Christians, many understandably so. Others think their own sins too grave to be brought out into the open. But both conclusions are nonetheless wrong. The only unforgiveable sin is our own choice to reject God's forgiveness; even in mercy, God does not force Himself upon us.

Our sins caused and necessitated the nails in Christ's hands and feet. But like the hymn says, His blood does not cry out for vengeance, as Abel's blood did. Christ's blood cries out for mercy. When we resist His mercy, Christ cries out the louder to plead for our forgiveness.

The sinner who sins out of spite, knowing the gravity of his actions, throwing his defiance into the face of God, is nonetheless loved by God, though he hurts Him most. It is not our place to reject them, (although we reject the sin) but to pray and encourage their repentance and mercy.

"Oh my God, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of Hell. Lead all souls to Heaven, especially those in most need of your mercy."

Fr. Tito's Rummage sale starts tonight...

And I'm not kidding, it's like this:





Like Msgr. Tony Rosaforte says, tie a rope around your waist before going in to make sure you can find your way out!

If you're in the Baltic, CT area, please help out a fantastic priest in his parish's main fundraiser for the year.

Just a quick post to say...

...I'm still alive. Work went from being like the Maytag repairman to being, well, buried.

I'm taking a much-needed break today to go to a Catholic Men's conference in Woooosta, MA with a bunch of other guys from my area. (Thanks, honey!) Fr. Mitch Pacwa and Dale Alquist are among the speakers. It should be a good day.

Keep praying for votes, not just "no" votes, but "HELL, NO!" votes.

This health care bill is not only an attack on the sanctity of life, but also the freedom of all Americans in this country. Have you called your Congressman?

Did I mention to pray?

Champions for Life

Tim Tebow isn't the first football player to speak out about the atrocity of the abortion holocaust in the U.S. Players from the 1986 Suberbowl champion NY Giants speak out here: (I'm sorry, am I allowed to say Superbowl?)



H/T Newsbusters via CMR

Help out a Regular Guy

Fellow blogger and Catholic Dad Paul Mitchell is taking a stand to change things for the better. He's a strong pro-life conservative running for State Representative in the 62nd district in Illinois. Please help him out any way you can, either by prayer, money, or real estate on your blog. Thanks, Paul!

A petty gripe and a lesson learned

I've never been good with confrontations. I'm the kind of guy who always tries to be nice, no matter what, who has no street smarts and always thinks of the right thing to do or say about ten minutes after I should have done or said it. Lee Marvin I am not. Case in point:

Wifey and I took the kids shopping the other day to a local discount store. You know, the kind with factory closeouts, store buyouts, crap from China, 5,000 two-cent pencils with "Revere Police Department" printed on them, last year's editions of the Rand-McNally road atlas for $1.00, and other such stuff. This particular retail cornucopia announces its presence with a 50-foot fiberglass cowboy in the parking lot holding an American flag. Let's just say that everyone around here has shopped there at least once and will refer to it while smirking or rolling their eyes. Or both.

Well, we needed some small household stuff and some homeschooling supplies, so we loaded up into the family bus and headed on down the road. Our time through the store was pretty normal: we found more stuff to put in the cart than was on our list. The boys were really helpful, if only because I gave them jobs to do to keep them occupied. I'd be at one end of the aisle and wifey was at the other with the baby and the cart. I'd pick a few items and hand them to the boys who dutifully marched them to Mom and came back for more. They stayed out of trouble, didn't scream or break anything and didn't knock anybody else over. So far, a success. They even got to pick out one small toy each.

When we decided we'd had enough, we gave the order. "OK, kids, go to the register." Wifey and I trailed about ten feet behind as Fric, Frac and Fred raced to the counter. I was pushing the cart, paying attention to what I was doing, so I didn't see what happened next, it all happened so fast. Fred, who is 3, found an entire cardboard rack of emergency whistles hanging there. Of course, he put one to his lips and blew. (You might be thinking that this story is about a busted eardrum or us getting kicked out of the store, but you'd be wrong. In fact, there was no audible noise at all from the whistle.) The cashier immediately left her perch, walked over to the whistles and announced to my wife that we had to buy that whistle. She pointed to the sign. "It says right there if you blow the whistle, you have to buy it." She proceeded to untangle the whistle in question. My wife, immediately replied "Fine, I'll pay for it, but you can throw it away. Why would I want that in my van?" Unfazed, the cashier continued to untangle the whistle. We explained to Fred that because he had to buy the whistle, we had to put his toy back. Fine, I think he forgot about it within five minutes. Wifey and I exchanged some looks and some hushed conversation, then she took the boys outside while I paid.

Here's what I did: I asked the lady if she thought 3 year olds could read. She didn't answer. I then explained to her that if that was their store policy, then the whistles should not be there at the register, unpackaged, unprotected, and at the eye level of a 3 year old. I took the whistle display and moved it to a more, um, appropriate spot. Then I paid and left. (I know, the word wuss comes to mind.)

Here's what I realized after I left the store I should have done: I should have handed the cashier the dollar, plus six cents for the tax, and told her to keep the whistle as well as all the $80.00 worth of items in my carriage.

Here's what I will do: send a note to the manager of the store bemoaning not the dollar lost, but the policy they have to set their customers up. According to sources close to me, they've been pulling that crap for years. Well, gripe done and lesson learned. But that's the last dollar they'll get from me. Next time, I'll go to Job Lot. I think I can pick up a copy of the Dirty Dozen there. I need to do some studying.