As Catholics, it is a great consolation to know that we have a second mother in heaven, to whom we can entrust our tears. The sweetness of this is something I don’t think any Protestant can ever have.
We have a mother in heaven. We can – and should – run to her like little children, and confidently trust in her love for us and her intercession for our prayers.
But we should also ask our sweet mother in heaven that she helps us not only individually, but collectively; crushing heresy – now so widespread even within the Church – and helping us push back and defeat the horde of infidels now slowly but surely attacking our religion, our very civilisation with the active help not only of too many politicians and professional bleeding hearts, but of the very man who should be at the head of our army.
In times in which Popes talks like atheists, cardinals like muezzins and bishops like politicians, it is the greatest relief to know that our religion is based on immutable, rock-solid beliefs; and that even if our clergy has abandoned us, our sweet mother in heaven is on our side not only in our daily tribulations, but in our fights against the enemies of truth and the enemies of Christ.
I suggest once again that my reader take the habit to recite the rosary every day. And I suggest that they make the small effort of learning by heart the Hail, Holy Queen (everywhere on the Internet) and recite it every now and then during the day; perhaps when our fears and sorrow try to take our serenity away from us; and perhaps, also, whenever we hear news about the now ongoing attempt to completely destroy our once so Christian West.
Ora pro nobis, sancta Dei Genitrix!
Just in case your local trendy priest has not informed you of the fact, here in the United Kingdom (and, I am sure, pretty everywhere else) the feast of the Assumption is a day of obligation, in the sense that the obligation is not moved to the following Sunday, (in which case is no obligation anymore: every Sunday is obligation) but must be fulfilled on the day.
It might be good to plan in advance, and if possible have a plan B if the train fails one.
Again, in normal times there would be no need for this post.
We do not live in normal times.
I might have said this, in one form or another, in the past; but as they say, repetita iuvant.
Tomorrow (but celebrated today in the UK) is the Feast of the Assumption. It is the principal feast of the principal victim (after Truth, and Church Unity) of Protestantism.
The Church had already always believed the truth of the Assumption, but it was only with the great Pope Pius XII that the Assumption of Mary was proclaimed as dogma. Before, almost everyone believed. Afterwards, everyone had to believe.
What we are requested to believe is the same that was believed by fifteen centuries of Church history before the heresies of Luther and co., as well as afterwards. The Church never changes Her theology, but her theology organically grows, like a tree that is always the same tree when young and slender or when old and mighty. Please tell this to your Lutheran acquaintances when the occasion arises. The Church doesn’t innovate Her theology.
Protestants miss all this. Most of all, they miss Mary.
A Catholic is not – thank God – so imbibed with Scriptural verses to be thrown around everytime it is helpful to underpin the one or other individual position (tot capita, tot sententiae might have been coined for Protestants, so fitting to them it is); but he knows that he has a Mother in Heaven. He feels the love, the vicinity, the help, the maternal consolation, the loving intercession of his heavenly Mother more than a Protestant ever will.
I pity the man who cannot direct at all times his eyes to heaven knowing that She is there, loving him all the time, suffering for him as a mother, helping him as she can as a mother.
I pity that man, because he has rejected Truth and Love and has closed himself to a great source of love, of consolation in difficult times, of joyous thanksgiving in good ones.
What is more immediately evident to us from the tenderest age, than Motherly Love? What is nearer, more keenly felt, more lovingly remembered? It has been said that by dying, most soldiers pronounce the affectionate word for “mother” they used as a child. I do not doubt it in the least. It truly tells something.
In His infinite Goodness, God has given each and everyone of us such a gift in much greater measure than every earthly mother could; He has given such a consolation and hope to those ( many in the past, less in modern times) who could never know the love of a biological mother; He has provided each and everyone of us with a source of unconditional motherly love, bigger than we could ever imagine.
Then Luther came, and so many were cut out if not from the love, certainly from the consolation.
Poor chaps. The Blessed Virgin loves them so much, and they miss most of the warmth, the love and the beauty. Oh, to have a Mother in Heaven, and not fully realise it!
Hail Mary, conceived without sin,
pray for us now and in the hour of our death.
Soon the Feast of Ascension will be upon us; it will be followed, soon after, by Pentecost.
When I used to live in Germany, these were both public feast days. Actually, at Pentecost the festivity was the following day.
I never can understand when even people who consider themselves religious manage to separate the calendar from their religious convictions. Religion is not a private matter, something that you remember only when you are closed in your own bedroom and pray. Religion is very much a public matter, and Christianity, with its inherent claim to evangelisation and expansion, is the most public matter of them all.
It is true that Christians would celebrate Christmas even if it wasn’t a public festivity; but it is also true that when a Christian festivity is a feast day the following happens:
1) the Christian character of a country is reaffirmed;
2) Christianity is forcefully put to the attention of non-Christians;
3) the Christian calendar moulds collective identity, even for non-churchgoers.
The idea that it be all right for Christians to celebrate, say, Labour Day or those insipid, utterly stupid, PC-stinking “bank holidays” we have here in the UK without pushing for their substitution with Christian holidays is, in my eyes, not very Christian. In my opinion, public feast days on, at the very least, Ascension, Pentecost, Corpus Domini and Assumption should be in the private list of grievances of every UK Catholic, and the first two in that of every Christian. The Catholic – and not only Catholic – hierarchy should push for the recognition of at least the first two in lieu of those stupid, politically correct, tofu-like “bank holidays” or, in case and when necessary, through the reduction of statutory holiday rights. They might, admittedly, not succeed in this generation, but their assertiveness would put Christianity high on the agenda and force the country to think about what it want to be, and what price it would pay if the wrong decision is taken.
These days, middle ways are difficult to maintain and – as I have heard saying – he who stays in the middle of the road risks ending up under a truck. Cue the calls for the abolition of Christmas as a festivity, or the renaming of Christmas markets as “winter lights” – or such bollocks – already seen all over England.
Christianity can’t be protected by half, and neutrality is of no use. You either fight for the Christian values of your country, or you will be forced in a rearguard battle by the ever complaining, now more and more aggressive atheists.
In countries like Italy – where the situation is not ideal, either – every city has a feast day on the day of his patron saint. Think of what this means: that the city puts itself under the protection of a saint, and that this is made clearly visible as a social, and not merely religious, event.
Feast days alone will, admittedly, not cause a country to become more Christian. But by clearly marking the Christian ground, they will at least make it more difficult for it to become less Christian, and will be a public call to conversion in times of licence and unbelief.
Christianity is not a private matter.