Was there a GOOD point made in the sermon you heard at the Mass for your Sunday (obligation or none), either live or on the internet? Let us know what it was. Too many people today are without good, strong preaching, to the detriment of all. Share the good stuff.
Also, are your churches opening up? What was attendance like?
For my part,…
Remember… real priests wear rosacea!
Let’s have a poll. Choose your best answer. Anyone can vote, but only registered and approved users can comment.
And here is another for those who saw rose or pink… what shade?
Yeah… just go with it.
Speaking of madder, I am reminded of the scene in the Aubrey/Maturin novel by Patrick O’Brian‘s HMS Surprise. (UK HERE) The ship’s surgeon, an eminent naturalist, Dr. Stephen Maturin was conducting an experiment on some rats. He had been feeding them madder. He intended eventually to dissect them to see if the red stuff had colored their bones and penetrated to the marrow. It was not to be. Hungry midshipmen ate his fat, madder saturated rats whilst he was marooned on St. Paul’s Rock. Note the spiffing partitive genitive in the first sentence of the following:
In time it appeared that Babbington had eaten of the Doctor’s rats; and that he was sorry now.
‘Why, no, Babbington,’ said [Capt.] Jack. ‘No. That was an infernal shabby thing to do; mean and very like a scrub. The Doctor has been a good friend to you – none better. Who patched up your arm, when they all swore it must come off? Who put you into his cot and sat by you all night, holding the wound? Who – ‘
Babbington could not bear it; he burst into tears. Though an acting-lieutenant he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and through his sobs he gave Jack to understand that unknown hands had wafted these prime millers [aka rats] into the larboard midshipmen’s berth; that although he had had no hand in their cutting-out – indeed, would have prevented it, having the greatest love for the Doctor, so much so that he had fought Braithwaite over a chest for calling the Doctor ‘a Dutch-built quizz’ – yet, the rats being already dead, and dressed with onion-sauce, and he so hungry after rattling down the shrouds, he had thought it a pity to let the others scoff the lot. Had lived with a troubled conscience ever since: had in fact expected a summons to the cabin.
‘You would have been living with a troubled stomach if you had known what was in ‘em; the Doctor had -’
‘I tell you what it is, Jack,’ said Stephen, walking quickly in. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon.’
‘No, stay, Doctor. Stay, if you please,’ cried Jack.
Babbington looked wretchedly from one to the other, licked his lips and said, ‘I ate your rat, sir. I am very sorry, and I ask your pardon.’
‘Did you so?’ said Stephen mildly. ‘Well, I hope you enjoyed it.
Listen, Jack, will you look at my list, now?’
‘He only ate it when it was dead,’ said Jack.
‘It would have been a strangely hasty, agitated meal, had he ate it before,’ said Stephen, looking attentively at his list. ‘Tell me, sir, did you happen to keep any of the bones?’
‘No, sir. I am very sorry, but we usually crunch ‘em up, like larks. Some of the chaps said they looked uncommon dark, however.’
‘Poor fellows, poor fellows,’ said Stephen in a low, inward voice.
‘Do you wish me to take notice of this theft, Dr Maturin?’ asked Jack.
‘No, my dear, none at all. Nature will take care of that, I am afraid.’
Stephen is eventually revenged in a creative way – involving laxatives – which also kept him true to his Hippocratic Oath.
Later in that same book, by the by, Jack will debauch Stephen’s pet sloth with grog and turn it into an alcoholic.
Which it’s tough going for the Doctor on the high seas, as Preserved would put it.
But I digress.
Have a rosy Sunday.
And Army has brought back the great Pinks and Greens!