Much confusion in the Church today rests in the doubts of many Christians regarding Revelation and Tradition, the two pillars of the Church. Over many days, I have shared a bit of Henry Cardinal Manning's thoughts from The Temporal Mission of The Holy Ghost.
One reason I have been recommending this book is the furor of this current pope.
When one understands that the Holy Spirit is the ONLY Teacher and Guide of the Church and that no man or individuals can change the immutable teaching of the Church, then one does not get so upset about sound-bites.
The problem is not with Revelation, but with the Protestantized mind-set of the media and groups of Catholics, both which do not understand the preservation of Truth in the one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic Church.
No person can change the Church's teaching. Protestants see the doctrines of the Church as corrupted. The opposite is true. They have corrupted the doctrines.
The media has seen the doctrines of the Church as out-dated and unnecessary. The Church alone knows what is necessary for salvation.
Weak Catholics, who have not taken time to study the history of the Church or whose minds and hearts hold vestiges of revolution and relativism, fall into confusion, and all confusion is from the devil.
As Manning indicates, there is the "perpetuity of truth" within the Church, not settled on one man who speaks like a human except in certain circumstances, (why we HAVE a teaching on infallibility). This perpetuity of truth has been given and is guided by God, the Holy Spirit.
Reform in the Church comes from the Holy Spirit and this reform is not a change of doctrine ever, but merely a clarification of truth.
Let me quote Manning one more time from this book:
"The illumination of the Spirit informs the collective and continuous intelligence of the Church with adequate and precise conceptions of revealed truth, and the assistance of the Holy Spirit guides and sustains the Church in the adequate and precise enunciation of those conceptions."
That trads seem to be more upset with sound-bites indicates to me that they, of all people, seem to have either forgotten the truth of the Holy Spirit within the Church from Pentecost down to this present day, or they simply do not believe this is true.
Too bad history and Church history were subjects dropped from Catholic curricula so long ago. History and the study of the councils and doctrine give a perspective sadly missing from many commentators today.
Friday, 30 May 2014
Moon Fire, Sun Fire, Pat's Fire
Fire heart of Patrick made the
old priests angry by his sign
of rebellion against older ways.
Moon fire, sun fire, Pat's fire
changing generations of those
who watched and waited into
holy saints, winding their way
to small huts, to coracles,
crossing seas in fierce faith.
Miles from the Hill of Slane,
but in Christmas-tide, not
the bright day of Resurrection,
on a night of wandering thoughts,
an Irish moon, huge, orange took
the sky by the horns and grappled
for attention over the starry forms,
gracing the edges of trees. St. Pat's
challenge created fire out of the faith,
like this moon, this giant overseer of
land and green hills. Thirty months
passed, leaving petals dried in bowls,
while the sun, this evening, stood over
the rolling hills of black cattle and doe
as graceful as lace on the tablecloth.
Orange sun, ball of fire, finally giving in
to the small forest of oak and maple,
trees planted by farmers who wanted
privacy, but this sun cries out for
attention, searing the eyes, then
sightly fading into a distant flame
now a memory, like Patrick's fire,
like my moon over County Meath
in January, in a world older than
these glacial hills, which barely felt
the footsteps of men, and more of
beast, wild and domestic, together
ignoring each other as they eat the
new grass under the sinking red
sphere, oblivious to my humanity.
old priests angry by his sign
of rebellion against older ways.
Moon fire, sun fire, Pat's fire
changing generations of those
who watched and waited into
holy saints, winding their way
to small huts, to coracles,
crossing seas in fierce faith.
Miles from the Hill of Slane,
but in Christmas-tide, not
the bright day of Resurrection,
on a night of wandering thoughts,
an Irish moon, huge, orange took
the sky by the horns and grappled
for attention over the starry forms,
gracing the edges of trees. St. Pat's
challenge created fire out of the faith,
like this moon, this giant overseer of
land and green hills. Thirty months
passed, leaving petals dried in bowls,
while the sun, this evening, stood over
the rolling hills of black cattle and doe
as graceful as lace on the tablecloth.
Orange sun, ball of fire, finally giving in
to the small forest of oak and maple,
trees planted by farmers who wanted
privacy, but this sun cries out for
attention, searing the eyes, then
sightly fading into a distant flame
now a memory, like Patrick's fire,
like my moon over County Meath
in January, in a world older than
these glacial hills, which barely felt
the footsteps of men, and more of
beast, wild and domestic, together
ignoring each other as they eat the
new grass under the sinking red
sphere, oblivious to my humanity.
Meteor at Dusk-May 29th
Here, today, I said a feeble prayer,
almost afraid to ask for a sign, a
small signature from God in His
sky. But, feeling weak and young,
I did ask, for an orange ball of fire
to wing its way past my window,
just after the sunset when the sky was
dark as dark in this countryside.
Twenty seconds of musing and then,
across the lower sky, a red core of
fire, followed by hot white streaked
past my window. I did believe in this
sign, so quickly answered, as if my
Father in Heaven had planted that
small meteor in His plan to remind
me that I am one of His small ones.
A daughter without much to show
without much to leave to my one
descendant, but a meteor memory,
written in a poem of little account.
A few seconds of assurance that one
someone, somewhere, (where I do
not know), is thinking of me in a
kind and gentle manner on another
shore, where the sea makes the sky
as big as paints this prairie.
almost afraid to ask for a sign, a
small signature from God in His
sky. But, feeling weak and young,
I did ask, for an orange ball of fire
to wing its way past my window,
just after the sunset when the sky was
dark as dark in this countryside.
Twenty seconds of musing and then,
across the lower sky, a red core of
fire, followed by hot white streaked
past my window. I did believe in this
sign, so quickly answered, as if my
Father in Heaven had planted that
small meteor in His plan to remind
me that I am one of His small ones.
A daughter without much to show
without much to leave to my one
descendant, but a meteor memory,
written in a poem of little account.
A few seconds of assurance that one
someone, somewhere, (where I do
not know), is thinking of me in a
kind and gentle manner on another
shore, where the sea makes the sky
as big as paints this prairie.
Cottonwood Memories
Puffs from the Cottonwood trees sail past
my window, slowly, gracefully in this heat.
Once seen, each disappears across the road,
into the hedges, into the copses of now-full trees.
Few notice the days white flies about the fields,
caught on barred-wire fencing, brushing cows,
in softness. Soon, this invasion will disappear
into the past, as May ends and June turns the
days into corn-growing heat and ennui. The
cycle of the Cottonwoods has lasted for
centuries here, near the Wapsi, where the
Blackbirds and Cowbirds make a racket,
in the brush. Three small brown birds chase
the Fan-tail Hawk away from their hidden
nests, nests full of puffs. Perhaps the birds
are the only creatures which notice or use
the soft white down of the trees. But, I
am told that long ago, long, long ago,
the Native Americans used the bark
and roots, but not necessarily the fluffy
seeds. I am afraid today, that my presence
in your memory will be only a white puff,
gently rolling on the wind, but gone, caught
in nothing, dropped and forgotten even by birds.
my window, slowly, gracefully in this heat.
Once seen, each disappears across the road,
into the hedges, into the copses of now-full trees.
Few notice the days white flies about the fields,
caught on barred-wire fencing, brushing cows,
in softness. Soon, this invasion will disappear
into the past, as May ends and June turns the
days into corn-growing heat and ennui. The
cycle of the Cottonwoods has lasted for
centuries here, near the Wapsi, where the
Blackbirds and Cowbirds make a racket,
in the brush. Three small brown birds chase
the Fan-tail Hawk away from their hidden
nests, nests full of puffs. Perhaps the birds
are the only creatures which notice or use
the soft white down of the trees. But, I
am told that long ago, long, long ago,
the Native Americans used the bark
and roots, but not necessarily the fluffy
seeds. I am afraid today, that my presence
in your memory will be only a white puff,
gently rolling on the wind, but gone, caught
in nothing, dropped and forgotten even by birds.
Too bad the descendants were ignored
http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/may/30/richard-iii-no-bunch-backed-toad-hunchback-research-lancet?CMP=twt_fd
Too bad Shakespeare made him so ugly...but the play is great, nonetheless.
Too bad Shakespeare made him so ugly...but the play is great, nonetheless.
Summer Family Activities
One of the interesting things one can do in the summer holiday months, when the children are out of school, are family activities concerning religion.
One thing could be a night, or even two nights, when the entire family studies the Catechism of the Catholic Church together, if one has children over the age of 13 or so.
Another fun thing to do is to make videos of the lives of the saints-let the kids do this.
A third possibility is making a Bible Garden, which would be planting and harvesting some of the plants mentioned in the Bible.
There are resources out there for such things.
Do not waste the hours of daylight and the time off.
We would make little dramas for the other kids in the neighborhood. Moms would share gifts making crafts and having kids over to learn new skills.
Sharing is a great way to build community, but begin with and in your own family.
Give your children wonderful memories and ideas to carry on into the next generation.
One thing could be a night, or even two nights, when the entire family studies the Catechism of the Catholic Church together, if one has children over the age of 13 or so.
Another fun thing to do is to make videos of the lives of the saints-let the kids do this.
A third possibility is making a Bible Garden, which would be planting and harvesting some of the plants mentioned in the Bible.
There are resources out there for such things.
Do not waste the hours of daylight and the time off.
We would make little dramas for the other kids in the neighborhood. Moms would share gifts making crafts and having kids over to learn new skills.
Sharing is a great way to build community, but begin with and in your own family.
Give your children wonderful memories and ideas to carry on into the next generation.
Books, books, books
I am currently reading Cardinal Manning's two books on the Holy Spirit, finishing up the first one and starting the second, plus continuing with Garrigou-Lagrange's Providence and Predestination, which I am re-reading after many years.
I am also trying to learn Maltese with the help of a friend. Interesting language. Here is the Hail Mary.
I am not good with languages and have to concentrate.
I am also trying to learn Maltese with the help of a friend. Interesting language. Here is the Hail Mary.
Sliema ghalik, Marija,
bil-grazzja mimlija.
Il-Mulej mieghek,
imbierka inti fost in-nisa,
u mbierek il-frott tal-guf
tieghek Gesu.
bil-grazzja mimlija.
Il-Mulej mieghek,
imbierka inti fost in-nisa,
u mbierek il-frott tal-guf
tieghek Gesu.
Qaddisa Marija, Omm
Alla, itlob ghalina
midinbin issa u fis-siegha
tal-mewt taghna, Amen
Alla, itlob ghalina
midinbin issa u fis-siegha
tal-mewt taghna, Amen
I am not good with languages and have to concentrate.
The Homeless
Why are these statistics true?
40% of the homeless men in America are veterans, despite the fact that male veterans make up only 34% of the entire population.
Only 2% are Asian.
46% have chronic illnesses and diseases such as diabetes, high blood pressure, cancer.
Can one see trends here, just in these statistics?
And, can one see that Asian families help their own more than other ethnic groups?
more stats here.....
40% of the homeless men in America are veterans, despite the fact that male veterans make up only 34% of the entire population.
Only 2% are Asian.
46% have chronic illnesses and diseases such as diabetes, high blood pressure, cancer.
Can one see trends here, just in these statistics?
And, can one see that Asian families help their own more than other ethnic groups?
more stats here.....