Replies

The line from that song I find most applicable to the traditionalists on this forum is the one about "bad luck". You folks seem to have an infallible homing instinct for the absolute worst that any particular geographical area has to offer. Your buddy pascendi (courtesy ping), for example, on his one and only trip to northern Virginia, winds up in a parish that ... well ... if they ever have to give the Diocese of Arlington an enema, I know where they'll stick the tube. MMJ's (courtesy ping) son, on his (apparently) one and only foray into the regular Catholic Church, finds himself in a hellhole of a diocese, confessing to a priest who doesn't believe in sin. Yuck. Every one of you seems to tell the same story.

I, on the other hand, by the simple expedient of assisting at Mass at the geographically closest Catholic Church to my hotel, generally find my standards (posted earlier on this thread) met. The most frequent violation of my standards is unorganized and incomprehensible preaching. The second most common is bad music.

Now I have to wonder "what's normal"? What is the state of the Church really? Who am I supposed to believe, the trads or my lyin' eyes?

If the shoe fits, wear it.

Well, it's true. In fact, it happened at the exact time I ripped my family out of the New Order and plunked them down into the traditional Mass and they've enjoyed every ounce of it ever since. One of the best moves I've ever made.

For the most part it was my last NO experience with only a few exceptions. In fact, we had been looking to go to a traditional Mass that Sunday, but it didn't pan out. How I found the name of the parish was by googling pictures of parishes because I remember that ugly tweaked cross on the building.

About all I really remember was this theatre-sloped, half circle shaped interior and a bunch of overly friendly, spirit-filled people with NeoCatholic hair. A really weak sermon, bad music, that orans posture stuff. There was this outer vestibule thing with coffee and donuts everywhere. I recognized those things, so I hung out in the vestibule.

Send the shoes; I'll wear them.

This "all VII parishes are nutso" stuff is urban legend, mostly from the 100 or so examples found by the Remnant staff over a period of 20 years of searching.

It's the same 100 pictures, stories, etc.,--although now and then someone finds another one.

Broadsword, the Gospels don't print pictures of Christ. How do you KNOW he never smiled or laughed? Did He have a really sad childhood? Do you suppose that when those children approached him he gave them the "parental Eye?"

Good heavens, man--