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Sunday, 2 August 2009

"In the name of, hey! how're ya doin'?"

When Himself has a gig, he often finds himself in different parishes, at different times for Sunday Liturgy.
He forgets how changed is his level of concentration when he is neither chanting/song leading, nor singing in a choir, and thus how much more easily he is distracted by occurrences, or rather practices to which he objects -- he came home absolutely livid over a jolly "let's all turn and say hello to our pew mates, and if you don't know them, ask their name, see how they're doing!" beginning to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

I hope this isn't my fault.
I hope I am not infecting him with my too great a readiness to criticize, to nit-pick -- or even just to note idiosyncrasies -- or idiot-syncrasies?

It's not fair of me, he is much in general more generous-hearted and easier-going, (and more oblivious,) than I, but once having his back is up, it stays up, he cannot let go of things, so this will affect him more.

Am I remembering right, was it Mosebach who wrote something like, "the problem with the reformed Liturgy is that we are all positively obliged to talk about the liturgy now, we go to Mass to talk to God but come away theatre critics"?

See what I've done, or at least am trying to do?
That's me all over, I never accept blame for anything.

Oh no, it can't be my griping that's at fault, it's the mucking around with the ritual that others presume to have the right to do, that's responsible.


Charles said...

O Lord, G, you're my twin sister of different moms. God help us.
At least you've met W and know why I'm doomed, at best, to ____ in Purgatory.
Yes, our griping does have a bit, a tad, a smidge, a skosh, to do with it. But God love us and help us just the same.

Scelata said...

"O Lord, G, you're my twin sister of different moms. "

Yes, I'm thinking of growing a beard...

In all seriousness, yes, I've met W and if anything, it makes me think BETTER of you.
As reflection on Himself improves my self-esteem.

Yes, yes, yes, Jesus loves me, this I know, but let's face it, He loves everyone, it's his metier.

On the other hand, Himself, who does not "love" everyone, loves me.

He loves ME.

I must have some good quality! there's the proof!

And if Wendy loves you, Charlie, just think how very swell a human being you must be!

Besides all the aspects of you that all of us can see and admire, she must know something quite special about you.

And quite laudable.

My time in purgatory, (well, that thatis not ameliorated by having had to listen to "We are called, we are chosen, we are...." too, too many times,) will be for never having had a mean thought that I imagined was funny, that I did not express.

(Save the Liturgy, Save the World)

Charles said...

"When I am laid, am laid in earth, May my wrongs create
No trouble, no trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate."

Glad for your cable-one can't get enough of Sir Anthony Hopkins, can one? Or Tim Roth.