As the storm approaches, I have a strange kind of calm. I know that my wife and my children love me, so that’s all right; and I do trust that they know I love them. But a man wants something other than that. We need to be needed.
Archbishop Weakland, sworn by his office to teach what the Church teaches, did his best to undermine it, to sow indifference or contempt whenever the teachings touched upon his own most precious field of sin.
The pope has not bothered to call upon those faithful who love the old rite to speak with them. He has spent less time critiquing the old rite than he has spent belittling that small portion of the faithful who will not go along with his disdain.
The pope warns against aestheticism. Rightly so. Aestheticism is to a full experience of beauty as sentimentality is to profound and genuine feeling. But it is not aestheticism to long for beauty, as it is not sentimental to long for love.
I have read too much, I have beheld too much, I have heard and sung too much. I am a restorationist. I am like someone who knows there are riches around a corner, and I want everyone to come and see. I can’t help it anymore.
The unborn child is strange and familiar at once. Set aside all the muddle of your fears and desires, your resentment, your self-opinion, your politics, whatever. Look at that child. That was you, that was me.