LENTCAzT 45 2018 – Good Friday: “Every soul is Calvary and every sin a rood.”

Today is Good Friday.  The Roman Station is Santa Croce.  

In gratitude especially to benefactors who help me and this blog, during Lent I’m once again offering 5 minute daily podcasts to encourage you in your own use of this holy season.

You’ll here something from one of the best chant discs I’ve ever heard, a little hard to get now.

Fulton Sheen tells us that it isn’t over yet.

Today, spectacular chant for Good Friday.


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About Fr. John Zuhlsdorf

Fr. Z is the guy who runs this blog. o{]:¬)
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7 Responses to LENTCAzT 45 2018 – Good Friday: “Every soul is Calvary and every sin a rood.”

  1. Malta says:

    Yeates was very close to converting to the Catholic faith; but speaking of the rood, this is a nice poem:

    To the Rose upon the Rood of Time
    Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days!
    Come near me, while I sing the ancient ways:
    Cuchulain battling with the bitter tide;
    The Druid, grey, wood-nurtured, quiet-eyed,
    Who cast round Fergus dreams, and ruin untold;
    And thine own sadness, whereof stars, grown old
    In dancing silver-sandalled on the sea,
    Sing in their high and lonely melody.
    Come near, that no more blinded by man’s fate,
    I find under the boughs of love and hate,
    In all poor foolish things that live a day,
    Eternal beauty wandering on her way.

    Come near, come near, come near—Ah, leave me still
    A little space for the rose-breath to fill!
    Lest I no more hear common things that crave;
    The weak worm hiding down in its small cave,
    The field-mouse running by me in the grass,
    And heavy mortal hopes that toil and pass;
    But seek alone to hear the strange things said
    By God to the bright hearts of those long dead,
    And learn to chaunt a tongue men do not know.
    Come near; I would, before my time to go,
    Sing of old Eire and the ancient ways:
    Red Rose, proud Rose, sad Rose of all my days.

  2. Malta says:

    If Father allows it, I’ll post my story about the battle of Fredericksburg, which the MilitaryTimes has agreed to publish, and it is relevant to this post, because it deals with the passion of a Catholic soldier during the civil war:


    The Colonel’s mind remembers the fields in Ireland where he grew up as he touches the tall wheat-colored, dead grass (it is December in Virginia).  He and his men, after days of rain-darkened dreariness, emerge from the woods into this sun-filled field.  Their drummer begins a song, and they all sing to it.  He is relieved to have freedom of movement as they continue to march towards Fredericksburg.  The evergreen pines around the field are swaying gently in a mild wind; the grass is also gently swaying.  He relishes this calm in the midst of calamity, and lifts he sweaty head-up to feel the breeze in the cool sunshine.

    He hasn’t battled in months, but his men are dying of fever all around him.  One-by-one he holds their trembling hands and cushions their sweaty heads with whatever fabric or foliage is available.  Though an officer, when they die, he sweats, struggles and spends himself, shirtless–despite the cold–as he digs in dirt, and cuts through rock, burying them.  Bodies lined around him, he finally falls asleep in the dirt; one of his men puts two blankets over him.   Three hours later, as the sun rises, he rises, and begins helping his men bury the dead.

    Joseph Boyer, 18, is more boy than man; that fact does not impede his bravery.  He is almost always by by the Col’s side; looking at him, learning from him.

    They advance on Fredericksburg to the yells and scream all around them; a volley ensues.  Men are pushed back by velocity.  To his left, he sees a man’s head undone by mortyr.  They trudge on, re-charging their rifles.  Boyer looks to him as they move on, the din of death and screams around them.  A man towards the front turns in fear and tries to run back into his company; he is turned back by a punch in the head.  The drummer beats on, and the men, despite their fighting sing on.

    Men fall and scream in agony on all sides.  Blood and bone cover his face.  Boyer still looks to him, as they recharge their weapons and carry on.

    A canon shot whistles next to his head but hits Boyer; Boyer explodes on him.  He runs to the dead boy, who is part of him.

    He grabs his weapon up again and is more adamant about the enemy.

    As he charges the front, he is almost simultaneously shot in the stomach, thigh, and the the side of his head.  He flops down into the grass, unable to move more than a few inches at a time.

    He is amazed to find himself fully aware; he looks around at the moaning men around him; a mist of gun powder still surrounds them, but, aside from a few shots, the fighting has stopped

    He pushes a flap of skin and bone back, and recovers his skull.  He can’t move; his stomach is shot through and his leg in tatters.  As he bleeds out–feeling weaker by the minute–he pulls out his daguerreotype of his black-silk haired twin daughters.  He hold the picture so as not to let blood submerge it; he kisses it.  He puts it back into his coat, and pulls out his beads.  He supplicates for his family and himself.  Finally, when his tongue is parched by dryness, and his body almost completely devoid of blood, he yells out, “I thirst!!”

    Other men yell out: “We thirst!”

    Almost as an apparition of an angel, Lt. Col__ sees a man jump the barricade, with a bucket in his hand.  A few shots ring-out from the Union side until all on both sides realize he has has come to succor not to slay, and yell for them to stop.   The angel zig-zags between the moaning men, ladling water into their mouths, he asks each man, “Soldier where are you from?”

  3. Malta says:

    This is actually a true story. I tried to put it into a story, but the Angel of Maryre’s Heights was a real soldier who risked his life to provide water to dying soldiers. Pretty amazing heroism.

  4. dforan1 says:

    Thank you, Father, for the podcasts. Our family will continue to pray for you especially this wonderful and busy weekend. It sounds like the cold is clinging to you. Perhaps God needs you to suffer for a particular soul, maybe even for me. Thank you, also, for your priesthood and for all that you do.

  5. JabbaPapa says:

    Today, I finished my first English-language reading of the Old Testament (I read the Bible the first time in St Jerome’s Latin, during the course of my conversion to the Catholic Faith).

    The perfect day to reach this point.

  6. Malta says:

    JabbaPapa–that’s really great! I too am a convert. I think the Ignatius Catholic RSV Catholic version study bible is really good (Cf. https://www.ignatius.com/promotions/catholic-study-bible/) I just finished reading it, and all of its footnotes. I also bought the Orthodox study bible (cf. https://www.amazon.com/Orthodox-Study-Bible-Hardcover-Christianity/dp/0718003594) to go through the Old Testament. I bought it because one Catholic reviewer said that it uses the Septuagint, which is the Greek that the Gospel writers quote from. I’m always cautious when it comes to the bible because I’m not a theologian, and I don’t want to make the mistake of making my own interpretations like so many protestants do. But the deeper I delve into it the more amazed I am by it. As a former atheist I came to realize that at the time Paul wrote his epistles it was beyond anything conceivable in ancient Greece and the Mediterranean world with its cult of Temple sacrifice to the gods, etc.

  7. Mariana2 says:

    Thanks, Father!