On the "Real Housewives of Beverly Hills" they have this new housewife called Carelton who is a Wiccan. She has decorated her home in a Neo-Gothic style with religious imagery all over the place. There are crosses on every wall and religious articles everywhere. Even a confessional booth as illustrated in this photo. Now this idiot claims to be a Wiccan who practices "White Magic." Now they have traditionally appropriated Catholic symbols for their rites so this is no surprise. But they treated these Catholic symbols as a joke.
This was particularly galling to me because of the last episode of "The Mentalist." At the end of the episode the protagonist Patrick Jane goes to a Catholic Church to pray. Now in the last eight years of the series there is not mention that Jane is Catholic. The basic story is his hunt for the serial killer known as "Red John." We are supposed to get the payoff in the next two episodes. They had narrowed it down to seven suspects who were almost all law enforcement officers. They killed off the suspects one by one until only the head of the CBI is left. Of course that would be too easy. It looks like the final confrontation will take place in a Church. What do you want to bet that the serial killer will turn out to be a priest.
There are many strains of Catholicism. There is the touchy feely guitar Mass type where it is all peace and love all the time. But there is also the tougher one of the Nun with the rulers and the priests who didn't stand for any crap. You could sin and get forgiveness but never doubt that you were a sinner and that you did something wrong. I am of the old school of Cardinal Spellman and Cardinal Hughes and Sister Asunta not the touchy feely pabulum they feed the kids today. I wish there was someone who would stand up to this nonsense. The type of Catholicism where you don't have to apologize for going after the enemy no matter where they might be. I think those days might be past.
More and more I feel like a Dinosaur.
23 comments:
People don't waste their time attacking lies for the most part. I mean, we all know that Scientology is a crock, so why bother spending any time pointing out how stupid it is. On the other hand, the efforts of Hollywood and other degenerates against Christianity is telling. My theory is that deep down, they want to believe, so they're testing it to see what it can withstand. Then again, there are those who simply want to rebel, and it's more fun to rebel against good than evil.
Trooper, they attack and ridicule because we are right.
It is Dinovember!
Although you are sort of like Mr. Bear who wants to punish those who have been naughty.
The real question is why you watch garbage like The Mentalist. That show sucks.
Sixty, in response to your query, probably because the Commish is no longer on.
Troop, I had the old school Catholic education, I hear you. The best priests and nuns were the ones who combined empathy with a clear line of right and wrong.
Windbag and Michael Haz are right about media attacks. And you are right to be pissed off. I see that stuff all the time and it pisses me off. The media went nuts over priest abuse, but when members of the Teacher's Union do it they seem to get a pass.
The eternal verities are eternal for a reason:
They do not comport to the rage of each passing season
But loom above the fray, like a rock against the tide.
Take heart: fools oft rule the day; the truth doth abide.
Trooper, think of it this way. Catholics are the Yankees of religion.
Dutch Reformed are the Red Sox. Who?
Wiccans are the Cubs. All the trappings without the happy ending.
...and the Mets will be stuck in Purgatory forever...
Sixty, You hit the nail on the head.
Old School!
What's wrong w/ The Mentalist?
Besides Rigsby and Van Pelt, of course.
They are too pussy to attack Muslims, that's why.
I started watching "Call The Midwife" which is set in 1950's Britain. After a first episode with no male characters they finally introduced an old school priest but he's Anglican of course.
Jack Lalanne lectures on sugars and alcohol: link
It's almost like the guy knew chemistry.
The Mentalist
vs.
The Mental Case(s)
My nickname in high school was Mental. Not for any psychic abilities, either.
It's hard for me to tell when TY is passing gas and when a dinosaur egg has been laid.
One of Panera Bread's new winter/Christmas slogans this year is "Filled with Fa la la!" Which seemed to me to be a great description of what the celebration of Christmas has become.
Misuse of symbol and misapplication or disregard of "rules" for the purpose of entertainment is wide spread. In fact, it happens right here at TY on a repeat basis, whenever Brother Bear goes on one of his sprees or Laura Bush decides to purge the memory bank.
When it comes to the Catholic Church, the heart of the matter appears to me (a member only in the more universal definition of the term) to involve ever deepening consideration and participation in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, to such a point that those who comprise that body are willing to ingest His Body and Blood as a form of communion.
When faith centers on this form of Truth and Grace, the church realizes something that allows it to grow in a power that transcends "right" to become Light.
Ricpic's poem made me smile, for the veracity contained within, as well as the reference to the Rock. Whether that reference was intentional or not, that I found it fitting enough to wonder if the author was well-read, Messianic or lucky?
"And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."
On a side note, the Clarence Thomas video posted a TOP contained a reference by him to the Litany of Humility, which I'd not encountered before. Making it through proved more difficult than it first appeared. Although I got through the fears and desires part, I bogged down at the last third.
Of course it was intentional! Me, Fredo and Rodney: under-appreciated...and lovin' it!
MamaM I don't claim to not be a hypocrite.
I just get tired of the fact that villains are always priest or white businessmen or just old white guys.
I also don't think Laura Bush is quite the same as the Catholic Church. Just sayn'
I might just be cranky.
My pressure is very low today.
Well, I left "Whose that Girl" untouched, so there's that. Much of the time my comments here represent something I'm in the process of working out for myself. The post yielded some good comments, including a poem that goes into the Best of TY category in my book.
To return the favor, here's one that's been a long time favorite, one that goes beyond rules to address the mystery at the heart of the matter:
FOLLOW
by Roland Flint
Now here is this man mending his nets
after a long day, his fingers
nicked, here and there, by ropes and hooks,
pain like tomorrow in the small of his back,
his feet blue with his name, stinking of baits,
his mind on a pint and supper — nothing else —
a man who describes the settled shape
of his life every time his hands
make and snug a perfect knot.
I want to understand, if only for the story,
how a man like this,
a man like my father in harvest,
like Bunk MacVane in the stench of lobstering,
or a teamster, a steelworker,
how an ordinary working stiff,
even a high tempered one,
could just be called away.
It’s only in one account
he first brings in a netful —
in all the others, he just calls,
they return the look or stare and then
they “straightaway” leave their nets to follow.
That’s all there is. You have to figure
what was in that call, that look.
(And I wouldn’t try it on a tired working man
unless I was God’s son —
he’d kick your ass right off the pier.)
If they had been vagrants,
poets or minstrels, I’d understand that,
men who would follow a different dog.
But how does a man whose movement,
day after day after day,
absolutely trusts the shape it fills
put everything down and walk away?
I’d pass up all the fancy stunting
with Lazarus and the lepers
to see that one.
Thank you for posting that.
If I Did Not Work
A working stiff.
A term with contempt in it.
A man who ends the day weary.
Bone tired.
And gets up to do it again.
Each day.
Every day.
For the rest of his working life.
How?
How does he do it?
How is it done?
There is an answer.
One answer.
Only one.
If I Did Not Work, These Worlds Would Perish.
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