I love my brothers, very much.
(I have six of them.)
I also, for the most part, like them.
Some of them I like a great deal.
One of them, who I think is one of the kindest, smartest, nicest, best people I know, was once engaged.
The woman was a harridan. She was unkind, treated him like dirt, belittled him, was rude and imperious to his family and friends, from whom she isolated him.
He was constantly apologizing for her behavior.
She was very beautiful, but in a trashy, over-sexualized way, which she accentuated by dressing trashily.
She was not very bright.
She spent money like a drunken sailor, hers, (which she didn't have, it was a charge-card sort of life,) and his without consulting or even telling him.
She betrayed him and the engagement was broken off.
My brother was very sad, and I was sad for his sorrow.
But I also rejoiced and thanked God.
Universalis, your very own breviary in pixels...
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4 comments:
What does this mean, in light of its headline? -- Confused
Hello there!
I saw your comment at my blog and you mentioned that we met at the Colloquium.
By all means, drop me an e-mail so I know who you are and keep in touch!
frrobATearthlinkDOTnet
Scott, it means that I understand that members are in pain as the Communion disintegrates, and I feel for them and mourn with them for their pain, but I think ultimately it is a good thing; and I rejoice because I believe that what is best, what is most valuable, what is holiest in the Anglican Communion will be able to separate itself from the very idea of that separate communion (which is unworthy of them, unworthy of Christendom, unworthy of the Body of Christ;) and find its way home.
And home is in communion with the successor of Peter.
There was a fairly rancorous thread on another, mostly Roman Catholic, blog, in which there seemed to be some rejoicing, some mourning, some gloating, and some attempt to explain the mixed feelings many Catholic have toward the impending implosion, between gafcon, the Lambeth conference, et al.
I recognized my own feelings about the whole mess, (and it is a mess,) in my reactions to my brother's situation lo those many those years ago. (He's married with three lovely infants and toddlers now...)
It was a metaphor.
God can draw straight with what seem to us to be, and sometimes are, CROOKED LINES.
And so I celebrate crooked lines, however ugly and crooked they seem at the time.
(Save the Liturgy, Save the World)
Ah, thanks. In that case, I disagree heartily and must say I'm quite happily an Anglican Catholic who does not see Rome as home.
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