- Through the philosophy of materialism, a left-over from the Enlightenment
- Through relativism, all religions are the same and deserve the same protection-it is the duty of the State to protect the true Faith only and tolerate others
- Through the acceptance of fornication, adultery, homosexual acts, and even incest
- Through the great sins of abortion and contraception
- Through the complacency of those who think they will not be affected by suffering
- Through gross individualism and selfishness, narcissism and the hoarding of personal wealth
- Through corruption at the highest levels of society, in banks, corporations and even the Church
- Through the lies of Masonry including the biggest one, that man can save himself without God, without grace
- Through satanism, which leads to temporary power
- Through the denial of heaven, hell and purgatory
- Catholics refusing to become holy because they do not want to suffer and face what it takes
- The apostasy of the clergy
- Attacks on the family
- Attacks on independent thought, independent media, independent anything
- Denial of sin, satan
Remember when I wrote this?
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Unreal City
Sometimes, some of us are blessed with being in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the
right time.
In my life, since my twenties, when I was living in Minneapolis in a lay community, I had premonitions in my
In my life, since my twenties, when I was living in Minneapolis in a lay community, I had premonitions in my
soul and input from friends and spiritual advisers that things in the next thirty years or more, were going to get bad.
The fact that the cultures of Europe and America are not only post-Christian, but anti-Christian has not
The fact that the cultures of Europe and America are not only post-Christian, but anti-Christian has not
shocked me.
I have been prepared for over forty years for persecution and have tried to cooperate with grace in order to be strong.
I am strong in my spirit and in my mind. I wish my body were stronger, but no matter, God is in charge
I have been prepared for over forty years for persecution and have tried to cooperate with grace in order to be strong.
I am strong in my spirit and in my mind. I wish my body were stronger, but no matter, God is in charge
. I must pray for perseverance. We all must.
We are now at the crossroads of massive changes in all countries of the West. Catholics will and must choose between being cultural or counter-cultural.
Thankfully, my dad, when I was 16, a long time ago, told me that to be a Catholic was to be counter-cultural.
He was correct then, and more so now.
If there are any Catholics still living with the old head in the sand syndrome, they must stop hiding from the reality of these massive changes which were predicted and known by some of us for a long time.
For some, life is the status quo. May I quote T. S. Eliot from The Wasteland, which I first studied in depth in 1979:
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar kine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu,
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the hyacinth girl."
–Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: "Stetson!
"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
"You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable—mon frère!"
If you are a Catholic in denial about the coming great persecutions, wake up out of your sleep. Otherwise,
We are now at the crossroads of massive changes in all countries of the West. Catholics will and must choose between being cultural or counter-cultural.
Thankfully, my dad, when I was 16, a long time ago, told me that to be a Catholic was to be counter-cultural.
He was correct then, and more so now.
If there are any Catholics still living with the old head in the sand syndrome, they must stop hiding from the reality of these massive changes which were predicted and known by some of us for a long time.
For some, life is the status quo. May I quote T. S. Eliot from The Wasteland, which I first studied in depth in 1979:
I. The Burial of the Dead
April is the cruellest month, breedingLilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar kine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu,
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
"They called me the hyacinth girl."
–Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Oed' und leer das Meer.
Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.
Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: "Stetson!
"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
"You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable—mon frère!"
If you are a Catholic in denial about the coming great persecutions, wake up out of your sleep. Otherwise,
you will not be prepared for what is to come.
In my next post, I have some suggestions....
