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Photos from today's Angelus (and Mass in St. Peter's Basilica).

Nota bene: I couldn't find any from Reuters, so I am not posting any here.

1 posted on 01/06/2010 9:52:32 PM PST by ELS
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To: clockwise; bornacatholic; Miss Marple; bboop; PandaRosaMishima; Carolina; MillerCreek; ...
Weekly audience ping!

Please let me know if you want to be on or off this ping list.

There wasn't a general audience today. Being the Feast of the Epiphany, there was a Papal Mass in St. Peter's Basilica and then the Holy Father prayed the Angelus from his apartment window overlooking St. Peter's Square.

2 posted on 01/06/2010 9:58:24 PM PST by ELS (Vivat Benedictus XVI!)
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To: ELS
Today we celebrate the great feast of the Epiphany,

Not in America we didn't (necessarily).

3 posted on 01/06/2010 10:06:00 PM PST by the invisib1e hand (if you can read this you're too close.)
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To: ELS
It would have been natural to return to Jerusalem, to Herod's palace and the Temple, to proclaim their discovery.

Right. Now, if they were so smart, why did they go to Herod do begin with? Doing so resulted in the slaughter of the innocents. Yes, of course you could say "to fulfill prophecy," but I'm not sure really answers the question.

4 posted on 01/06/2010 10:11:36 PM PST by the invisib1e hand (if you can read this you're too close.)
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To: ELS; netmilsmom; thefrankbaum; markomalley; Tax-chick; GregB; saradippity; Berlin_Freeper; ...

Papal audience ping!


9 posted on 01/07/2010 6:09:45 AM PST by NYer ("Where Peter is, there is the Church." - St. Ambrose of Milan)
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To: ELS

Journey of the Magi

“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For the journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins,
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death,
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

— T. S. Eliot

(The first four lines are quoted from a Christmas sermon by Lancelot Andrewes.)


18 posted on 01/08/2010 7:50:27 PM PST by lightman (Adjutorium nostrum (+) in nomine Domini)
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