My View For Awhile: Domum

I have been contemplating the set of vestments in green which should be underway. Do I want the dalmatics to fasten with buttons?

Shopping for supper with the editor of New Liturgical Movment. I contemplated pajjata.

Puntarelle

Saltimbocca

From Vespers and Benediction earlier.

And then…. time to leave Rome.

On the way to get a taxi.

Racing past the door of my seminary back in the day.

The Alitalia lounge is only slightly better than nothing, but I think I won’t stay long. It is jammed and uncomfortable.

MEANWHILE…

This is something I don’t see very often.

Please share!

About Fr. John Zuhlsdorf

Fr. Z is the guy who runs this blog. o{]:¬)
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6 Responses to My View For Awhile: Domum

  1. Eriugena says:

    Dear and Reverend Father,
    Dalmatics and Tunicles with ties are a HUNDRED times easier for the Acolytes to close than those with buttons, and in this wat the Subdeacon and Deacon are free to help the Celebrant much earlier to vest for Holy Mass…

  2. JustaSinner says:

    Homeward bound,
    I wish I was,
    Homeward bound,
    Home where my thought’s escaping,
    Home where my music’s playing,
    Home where my love lies waiting
    Silently for me.
    Tip of the hat to Art Garfunkel…Paul too, I guess.

  3. Fr_Sotelo says:

    JustaSinner,

    “Home where my love lies waiting” LOL. In the case of a priest, that would refer to the Blessed Sacrament in the tabernacle of the rectory chapel.

  4. UncleBlobb says:

    Go with God, Father Z. May Our Lady Help of Travelers bless you.

    Wish you were coming here sometime, though…. ;)

  5. Semper Gumby says:

    Safe travels Fr. Z.

    An epic journey in Italy calls for an epic poem. Unfortunately, what follows ain’t that. What follows is from the occasional scribble over the last two weeks after a recent reading of GK Chesterton’s “Ballad of the White Horse.”

    My sincere apologies to my high school English teacher who really tried to keep me on the straight and narrow.

    _______

    A Quest Perilous

    Sing, O Heavenly Muse!
    Your trusty Bard is on the booze.

    When the showers of April belched forth,
    Beowulf and dog were napping on the porch.
    Arthur was swinging Excalibur, weeding the lawn of Camelot.
    Odysseus was on a shopping errand, for fair Penelope an apricot.

    (At the checkout aisle Odysseus hears of a dastardly plot in Italy fomented by unclean spirits to bring about the swift destruction of Honor, Fair Maidens, Dirty-Faced Children in Rags carrying Empty Bowls in search of Porridge, etc. Odysseus makes haste to inform Beowulf and Arthur of these evil tidings and demands they all sail for Italy on the next tide.)

    Hark! cried Arthur, attend to my words!
    We are Men of Valor, not Fishwrap nerds.
    A Man of God to quest with us in Italy,
    Dispatch a Herald! Alert Friar Z!

    (At the MeadHall, in the flickering glow of the massive stone fireplace, Friar Z repeats the Herald’s Tale to his boon companion: the legendary seadog and Master and Commander Jack Aubrey. Master Jack listens with visage grim to the Friar’s Tale. Then he pushes aside a platter of Brie cheese, slams down his tankard on the wooden table and cries, “A quest perilous! Hoist the mizzen and weigh the anchor!” Thus the Fellowship sailed on the morning tide from the Havens of the West for the perilous lands of the, er, West. Wind filled their sails, salty air filled their nostrils, and barrels of salt pork filled their bellies. They had narrow escapes, twice from Barbary pirates, once from the dreaded siren Rihanna. Finally one afternoon the hills of Italy rose on the horizon and the Fellowship rowed ashore where they were met on a rocky beach by the Monks of Norcia. They sang a Te Deum and the monks provided the Knights Errant with horses, a portable altar, and a keg of Holy Water.)

    On their quest they briefly rest,
    on the hillsides of Puglia.
    Viewed the frescoes of Andrea de Litio,
    Enjoyed a little formaggio,
    Pronounced it all “delicious-o!”
    Then Mass and off to Calabria.

    Fingering their Rosary beads the Heroes rode their trusty steeds.
    Rode to the hill town of Rossano.
    They gazed in awe at the Codex Purpureus Rossanensis,
    “A sixth-century Greek Gospel” explained Tourist Bob the Dentist,
    Bob added, “The Tenth Roman Legion was named Fretensis!”
    At which the Fellowship departed for drinks and risotto.

    (The Fellowship travels on for weeks and begins to tire, but doves sent by St. Scholastica guide them to the end of their quest: the terrifying Castle Bugnini. As the Fellowship picked their way cautiously through swamp and fen, the eerie sound of liturgical tamborines and handclapping grew louder. Lost in the shadows of trees and crouching in brambles lurked leopards, lions, and she-wolves. The Knights Errant pressed on and spotted the castle shrouded in a foul-smelling fog atop a low hill in a valley. Bats circled over the towers, and a fierce army of guitar-wielding men and women roamed the battlements endlessly shaking hands. The Friar assembled the Fellowship for Holy Mass. After Mass the Heavens opened and there fell a torrential downpour of Holy Water. Then, after a bit of swordplay, wrestling matches, and fisticuffs the Castle Bugnini lay in ruins. The clouds parted and the fog burned away. The song of goldfinches floated over fen and forest. The fell creatures who once lurked in tower and dungeon now lined up quietly alongside a sparkling sunlit stream running through a valley glowing with lilies, their heads bowed, awaiting Confession.)

    Thus endeth the perilous quest of the Fellowship of the Risotto.

    ______

    GK Chesterton et al can rest easy.

    [LOL! I needed that this morning. Thanks!]

    Fr. Z's Gold Star Award

  6. JustaSinner says:

    Fr. S, indeed!