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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

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Haven Hotel: That’s Disengagement!

A princess with long black wavy hair walked out onto a high balcony. She wore a black undershirt with a white bow tie on top. A dark teal shirt, long white pants and white high heel shoes completed the look. Her face was pale white and teal blushes were present on her cheeks. Her eyes consisted of white pupils and dark blue sclera. Perched on her head was a black spiked crown. She was the inverted, antithesis of Charlie, the princess of Hell in a parallel world.

“For all my life, I’ve been taught that all angels have good inside them. But I know that to be a lie. Ever since Lucifer and Lilith, God’s closest angels betrayed Him… I don’t think I can believe in these flawed teachings anymore…”

The princess was Coerciona Egnam, Coercia for short. She was born and raised in Heaven…though she was not at all one would expect her to be in such a place. Self-entitled and pessimistic, nothing much could cheer her up except heavy metal music, rebelling against the rules and the occasional brawl.

“It makes sense that only a worthy few are able to be here in Heaven. Choosing them out of the sea of sinner scum. Yet ironically, even the saints and Heaven-born aren’t flawless all the time. It’s inevitable that all those imperfect beings will go to Hell. They deserve to deal with suffering and challenges. Best of all, they wouldn’t be bound by social expectations. Heck, I wouldn’t be too surprised if it were me. I do enjoy my comfortable life here, just not these restrictions.”

Her servants Pub and Chub were fat white naked cherubs with horns on their heads, small white feathery wings, and black eyes. One tested the strings on an electric guitar while the other shot out torpedoes from a small cannon.

Outside was a white clock tower standing tall against the blue sky. The numbers read 0 then changed to 365 days. Writing above the numbers read “Days until the next cleanse in Hell.”

The black Exorcists did their job in eliminating part of the demon population in 2P Hell like they did every year in the canon Hell. But at the same time each year, the Anti-Exorcists, risen white demons with white bat wings and horns, invaded 2P Heaven. They carried glowing black pitchforks and turned innocent denizens into demons. The Anti-Exorcists would carry books and tempt angels with their innermost desires. Sex, sin, self-expression, sorcery, whatever that need was. Then, once they were hooked, they were stabbed with the pitchforks, causing their wings to burn off and sending them plummeting down to Hell. Nearby families would grieve at their loss.

It was quite the entertaining show for Princess Coercia!

Coercia leaned against the marble balcony and began to sing in a low growl.

(“I’m Always Evading Shadows”)

“At the end of the journey, there’s suffering

Denying it, how often I’ve tried

But my life’s a disgrace

Just a slap in the face

And the harsh truths have all been denied”

“A sliver of despair in this world of light

I know this world’s not free of sin

I search for the good

But get misunderstood

And reality will always win”

“Why have I always been imperfect?

Lost in this brainwashed sea

I wonder if the world’s to blame

I wonder if it could be me”

“I’m always evading shadows

Trapped, drowning in the social flow

Free-will forbidden, my answers are hidden

Lying down below”

“Some people sugarcoat their speeches

I always blab out what I mean

I may be cruel but I am no fool

Things are never what they seem

Believe me”

“I’m always evading shadows

Waiting for people to awaken

In vain”

A nearby portal opened and out came the Exterminators, bloodstains over their wings and bodies and harpoons. They took off their creepy LED masks, their white angelic faces revealed. One by one, the citizens clapped and cheered. One of the Archangels with four black wings flew up to the front, his spiked halo glowing. He took off his mask, revealing a white stern face with yellow eyes and short black hair. In his utility belt were a few daggers, whips, chains and a bottle of emergency holy water.

“Another successful purge,” their leader Samael (Venom of God) praised. “You cleansed more sinners while still keeping the population in a good balance. Well done, all of you.” He cleared his throat and made a cross symbol over his heart. “For the greater good in the name of our Lord.”

The angels repeated the phrase.

“Until next year. Dismissed.” The Archangel soldiers saluted and then flew off separately to see their families. Several of the angels, having been brainwashed in their Exterminator states, shook their heads sadly at what they had done.

All around Coercia, Holy City was basked in a heavenly glow. The city was located up in the sky among the clouds, but no one had to worry about falling, even the ones without their wings out. A large church with the appearance of the Notre Dame Cathedral stood proudly in the city square, made of polished marble. Choirs and songs floated through the stained glass windows as the regular angels went in and out to pray and visit with their neighbors. A large fountain sprouted non-alcoholic wine of a golden color. It had a white statue of Mary and Jesus as a young boy at the top, both with welcoming faces.

The streets were spotless and clean. Roofs and roads were powered by the sun’s rays. The Cloud 9 supermarket had endless amounts of food for sale…no one ever had to worry about going hungry. Charity workers and volunteers worked by the dozens, passing out food and bestowing miracles for those who needed them in the lower levels of Heaven. Metatron, the highest ranking angel, was busy keeping records of human lives, deaths and the messages of God.

This version of Heaven was very similar to the Heaven in the realm next door, the one above the familiar Hell with the Hazbin Hotel. The architecture was almost the same. But unlike those angels with their blonde hair and red blushes, these angels most often had black hair and teal blushes on their pale cheeks. Like in the other Heaven, some of the bipedal angels displayed animal-like characteristics: some had heads of doves, others had swan wings and mannerisms. Many of them had fur, ears, and fluffy tails of dogs and wolves. It was the only place where dogs and cats could dance and prance together without conflict. Still a few others had faces of flowers or even objects like harps and musical instruments.

God’s Palace was the grandest place of all: it was settled at the highest point of Heaven like Mount Olympus. Only a few angels were allowed to visit there. God’s abode, the Empyrean, had an elite group of angels guarding it. Seraph angels with six fiery rainbow wings guarded the throne of God, chanting “Holy, holy, holy!” much to the annoyance to those nearby. There were rumors that in the palace gardens, the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge were grown there, heavily protected.

Lucius and Lilian were Coercia’s parents, those who took the place of Lucifer and Lilith after they were banished. They were named the new king and queen of heaven (Under God and a few Archangels), thus Coercia became the princess.

Lucius had a white face, teal blushes on his cheeks and short dark hair. Lucius wore a gray suit with a dark blue bow tie and a black top hat with two white feathers attacked to the brim. Lilian’s hair was long and black, and she too had the teal blushes and typical angel features. She wore a golden halo crown and an elegant white sequined dress. Both had white wings which could turn black when they were angry or defensive.

In a nearby movie studio, Valentine the butterfly producer, Nil the TV angel and Ashen, the doll angel sat together playing a board game. Despite liking old fashioned shows and the like, they still controlled much of Heaven’s technology and media. Iris, owner of an emporium, cried as she crossed out the name of her former female colleague, Francesca.

Along the street, a red car stopped beside the sidewalk. A tall creature opened the car door and stepped out. The spider angel had a furry dark gray face and body, plus multiple slender arms: six in total. He wore tall boots, green gloves and a shirt with a teal bow-tie near the top. His shirt and sleeves had black and dark green stripes. Green dots resembling eyes were located under his eyes.

“Thank you for the ride,” said the spider angel.

“No problem, Devil Grit,” said the driver Sivart, a white furry owl guy wearing a top hat. He tipped his hat to him and drove away.

Devil Grit walked over to a vending machine and bought himself a granola bar. He then gave it to a homeless guy leaning against the wall.

He walked inside a building and onto a stage in an auditorium. His opponent was already standing nervously at his spot, a microphone rising from the ground and stopping in front of him.

Sir Anguis was the nervous white snake. He had a white face with large slightly teal eyes with white pupils. He wore a white bow tie with a blue circle in the center below his thin neck. Surrounding his face on a flap of skin were bright teal eyes against dark purple. His suit was light gray with dark purple vertical stripes. Finally, he wore a large light gray top hat with a large green moving eye in the center.

The crowd settled into their seats and the debate began.

“Those other brave do gooders will do great with helping me with my presentation. Anyone want to try?”

A couple of hands shot up. Mechanical eggs on robotic legs moved around to help out the white snake lord.

“Oh thank you, my Nestlings,” he said.

Air Anguis pushed a button and a presentation showed up on a screen titled “Heaven Economics and Invention Ideas.”

“I don’t like to fight,” Sir Anguis said, clearing his throat, “and I’m super nervous up here…”

The Nestlings rolled their eyes.

Devil Grit glared at his cowardly opponent who then yelped, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Heaven doesn’t need any future technology,” Devil Grit argued as he stepped to his podium, “because we already have better things: friendships, food, and fun.”

Sir Anguis glanced down nervously at his note cards and read from them. “At this rate I will persuade the entire East end of Holy City by night’s beginning. Or was it day’s end? And nothing, not a single beauty in this paradise of bliss, will be able to change my mind or escape the constrictive grasp of persuasive argumentation.”

“Heaven will be ours, though it’s mine in my mind. And everybody will know the name of…”

“Scared Snake,” said a female voice.

“W-who said that?�� Sir Anguis asked.

“You ready for a debate, old man?”

The voice belonged to Berri Blossom, the opposite of Cherri Bomb in Hell. She was a tall cyclops with black skin, with a single green eye with a black cross in the center. She wore a long dark green dress and white high heeled shoes. Her black skin was decorated in some areas near her shoulders with tiny teal specks. Her long hair was curly, blue at the top and black near the bottom. She pushed her thin dark rimmed glasses up to her face, looking at her organized set of notes in front of her.

She walked over beside her academic partner Devil Grit. “Why don’t you play with your tinker toys somewhere else while I go over the logistics of divine law school?” She looked professional and poised. “Seven Reasons Why Heavenly Traditions Never Fail.”

“You want to go, madam?” Sir Anguis asked, a spark of rebellion in him. He fiddled with a few gadgets before the well-dressed Nestling eggs…egged him on to continue. He flicked his hood back. “Well, let the battle for tenure and status begin!”

A neon logo appeared on the screen, saying “777 News” surrounded by a halo. The names of the news cast appeared on the bottom of the screen.

“Good afternoon, Holy City!” smiled a pale woman with short black hair, wearing a light blue dress. “I’m Catie Carejoy!”

“And I’m Ron Wrench!” said the man next to her, wearing a business suit and who had a wrench for a head.

After discussing the weather, various humane societies, and legends on Earth, Catie continued, “The debate battle is underway between inventor and coward Sir Anguis and professional economics expert Berri Blossom. Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of His Majesty Lucius, who’s here to discuss her brand new passion-project! All that and more after the break!”

Inside the break room, Phalla the romantic butterfly angel adjusted Coercia’s white bow tie. Nearby, a blue tinted sign read “No smoking.” Another sign read “In The Air” in large letters.

“Okay, you remember what to say?” Phalla asked Coercia.

“Yes, I’m ready,” Coercia stated.

Phalla brushed her long black hair from her face, the ends of her black hair teal. Like Vaggie in Hell, Phalla’s thick hair extended down to her legs, giving her hair the appearance of moth wings. She had a glowing green cross over her right eye and her left eye was purple with a white pupil. A teal bow was perched on top of her head. Her skin was light gray and she wore a dark gray crop top with white Xs over her breasts. She also wore leggings, her right legging striped dark green and light gray, her left legging light gray.

“Oh this is gonna be great!” Phalla squealed happily. “How about you make your speech sound more exciting?”

“Come on, Phalla, I know what I’m going to say,” Coercia answered, crossing her arms.

Phalla walked over to the pitcher of ambrosia punch on the table. Pub and Chub ate bagels from the table. Phalla got an idea. “Oh! What if you…”

“Sing a song about it?” Coercia asked, with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not going to. This is serious!” She curled her hand into a fist and brought it down on the palm of her other hand. “They won’t take me serious if I start belting out some random song. Life isn’t a musical.”

“But neither is it an emo tragedy,” Phalla pointed out. “Life is great, especially with all the cute guys around.” Her single purple eye shinned.

“Romance, bleh,” Coercia made a face and Phalla giggled.

“Hey,” Phalla brightened, pulling out a piece of paper. “I have some ideas about what you could say.” She bounced up and down. “The highlighted bits are the best parts!”

“They’re all highlighted,” Coercia replied, scanning the paper. “You call your childish drawing your ideas for me?”

“Sure!” Phalla said. “Look here.” It showed a list of different terms “sinners = winners” “Misunderstood are still good” and “demons and angels party between worlds!” Skulls were lined up at the bottom of the page: “we’re all connected by death.”

“Say, that’s actually pretty good!” Coercia said with a smile of sharp teeth.

“Thanks!” Phalla beamed.

Coercia snatched the piece of paper from her friend and tore it in half, much to her shock. “But you should know my ideas are always better.” She tossed the pieces of paper aside, gave a salute and walked out the door.

Catie waved with a smile. “Hi. I’m Catie Carejoy.” She held out her hand but Coercia didn’t take it, instead remarking, “You can put that away. I don’t touch commoners, I have standards.” Catie, looked stunned, pulling her hand back. “So this project of yours, when did you come up with this idea of creating a hotel in order to…break the law as the rumors say?”

The angel crew murmured nervously.

“I’m gonna keep this short,” Coercia said as she walked over to the desk. “You might think my idea doesn’t hold water, but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m too influential to give a flying feather about what some stuffy old news lady thinks of my proposal.”

The crowd gasped. Ron shook his head.

“Well, if you can’t take constructive criticism and be polite…”

“…and we’re live!” called a voice as a buzzer sounded.

“And we’re back!” Catie said, rushing over into her seat. “So, Carrie…”

“It’s Princess Coerciona Egnam,” said Coercia, sitting in a chair beside her and Ron Wrench.

“Sorry. So tell us about your project.”

Coercia took a deep breath. “As most of you know, I was born here in Heaven, and growing up, I’ve always tried to see the good in everything around me. But recently, I don’t believe that’s always the case. We just completed another Extermination. So many sinful souls lost but for what reason? God said in the Commandments “thou shall not kill,” yet killing random people is okay? If we can’t even trust ourselves with our actions and thoughts, is Heaven truly paradise? Not to mention that ever since Lucifer and Lilith betrayed Him, we don’t know who to really trust. Some people are given too many chances!” She pounded her fist on the desk, startling Catie.

Coercia stood up and made her way forward. “No one is truly flawless. Mistakes are made, but we get blamed for doing things we sometimes enjoy. Sex, drugs, partying, swearing, even violence. All because we don’t live up to impossible standards imposed upon us, both here and on Earth! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such lies and propaganda! So, I’ve been thinking…isn’t there a more liberating way to hinder forced compliance here in Heaven? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to express change through…recreation?”

The angels talked quietly amongst themselves. Phalla nodded in appreciation.

“Well I think yes,” Coercia continued. “So that’s what this project aims to achieve.” She walked back to the desk and sat down. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind, a hotel that encourages moderate amounts of so-called sin!” She spread out her arms.

The audience stared in stunned silence. Many of the adults were shaking their heads.

“Who is that girl?” asked a dragon watching from inside a soup kitchen. “What’s her deal with trying to cause more trouble for this world?”

“She’s nuts!” added another angel with an eagle’s head and wings, wearing a suit.

Coercia added nervously while still trying to keep a glare, “I figure it would serve a purpose…a place to work toward self-expression. Yay.”

Among the crowd of angels watching the news outside, a tall man with a thin pale face stood toward the back. He wore a light blue dress suit, had blue and white hair, fluffy deer-like ears, and large blue eyes. His white wings were folded behind him. He watched the program with a look of worry. A deer creature made of light appeared beside him. A sign posted on the wall showing the same man as a DJ read: “Counseling and good times with the Techno Angel!”

A camera man shook his head at Coercia. Phalla walked up to him and pleaded, “Please give her a chance.”

Coercia sighed. “Look, I know every single one of you has insecurities and issues that need not be bottled up. If you could just embrace those sides of yourselves…”

Coercia then smirked. “Maybe I’m not getting through to you.”

Phalla clapped her hands and “ooohed” in excitement as Rub and Chub got the electric guitar ready.

Coercia showed a pair of sharp white teeth and black curved horns emerged from her head. Black feathery wings sprouted from her back and an X appeared over her right eye. A harpoon appeared in her right hand and a spiked halo appeared over her head. She was in her dark angelic Exorcist form. She posed over the desk and began.

(“Inside of Every Angel is a Sinner”)

“I have a dream

I’m here to tell

About a fantastic mind-blowing hotel

One of a kind, go and yell

A great place to dwell

Catering to specific clientele”

*Guitar starts and scream vocals*

“Inside of every angel is a sinner

Inside of every do-gooder is a beast

Inside of every jolly go-lucky mentality

Is a subconscious portion we know the least”

“Resist all the rules

You’re not passive fools!

With just a little time

Down at the Hazbin Hotel!”

“So all you rescuers, priests, and heroes

Gifted athletes, jocks, and cheerios

And the sheep citizens, relief is here!

All of you angels, leaders, and stars

Traditionalists with fancy cars

And the activists on Mars

Show no fear

No taboos, no laws

Embrace your flaws

You’ll be truly free

Check in with me

It’s the right path, you’ll see”

“There’ll be no more pressure

And no more status quo

Just friendship, fun, and endless bags of dough

Establishment put to rest

You’ll be like, “Yes!”

In the tunnel of darkness you’ll go!”

“So all your hierarchies, GMOs, politics, and isms

Lectures, labor standards, and diamond studded prisms

Ancient Indian elitisms

All must die”

“All you fantasizers, artists, servers, and lords

Spoiled children, winners of awards

Imposers of chores

Face your fear!”

“Be who you are

And you’ll go so far

Our service will raise the bar

You’ll be the star

Come from near or afar at the Hazbin Hotel!

Yeah!”

“Wow,” said an angel in a top hat. “That was…alright.”

The crowd clapped half-heartedly.

Catie shook her head. “What in the Nine Levels makes you think a single denizen of Heaven would give two feathers about becoming a sinful person? You have no proof that your little experiment even works! You want people to disobey God and the rules just…because?!”

Coercia lifted up her head. “Well, we have a patron already who believes in our cause.”

“And who might that be?” Catie asked.

“Oh just someone named…Devil Grit.”

“The grumpy old spider?” asked Ron Wrench.

“He’s not old,” argued Catie. “He just acts older than he is.”

“Anyway,” said Catie to Coercia. “You couldn’t even get that guy to do something bad, even if a gun was pointed at his head.”

“Oh I beg to differ,” Coercia argued. “He’s been troubled, dirty, and having conflicted thoughts for two weeks now.”

“Breaking news!” called a voice as the screen changed to a recent debate shown in a building.

The news came on, detailing Devil Grit and his recent TED talk about the 7 Heavenly Virtues.

“Well, it looks like the one discussing the Heavenly Virtues is none other than…conservative Devil Grit! What a coincidence!”

She and Ron did a “ratings!” and jazz hands.

Corceria rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry to say, but it looks like your plan’s departed on arrival,” said Catie. “I hope you learned a good lesson here.”

Coercia’s eyes twitched, her teeth barred. “Lesson?! I’ll teach you a lesson, bitch!” The princess and Catie fought fist and claw on the desk. Ron called for security.

After Coercia was kicked out, Phalla followed her wordlessly to the white limo. Devil Grit, Phalla, and Coercia rode back to the hotel.

Devil Grit lounged in the far seat, wearing an outfit of black with green stripes and green gloves on his four hands.

“Devil,” said Phalla with concern. “I know you were trying to do good by doing your professional speech. But could you please try not to help society in public? Now people won’t believe us when Coercia says that people are free to express their earthly desires.”

“I’m sorry Phalla,” said Devil from the other seat, “But I have a reputation to keep up. Helping the greater good is His plan for all of us. Besides, a good professional debate is a reasonable form of self-expression right?”

“Not to everyone,” said Phalla. “What about the hotel? People are thinking that you don’t care about Coercia’s project at all.”

“I do care, senorita,” said Devil. “I just don’t think it’s going to be easy to accomplish in such a short time. So many angels are fixated on tradition, myself included.”

“I do appreciate all of your help,” said Coercia, still fuming after the interview, arms crossed. “But I will make this project work, even if I have to do it myself.”

The white limo pulled up in front of the hotel, a pristine building made of glass and marble. The group got out of the car and stepped inside.

White wings made of rainbow scales posed as part of the structure on the roof. The stained glass windows by the door were decorated with apples, a tree of life, and many shades of blue and green. The sign above read “Hazbin Hotel” in big letters on the roof. Inside the lobby, a painting of Adam reaching toward God was displayed on the high ceiling. The hotel had seven floors with seven rooms on each floor. There was even a lab down in the basement which belonged to a man named Baker, the opposite of the demon fish scientist Baxter from Hell. A bowl of blue berries and blue raspberries sat on a table below a welcome banner. Phalla rested on a couch while Devil Grit munched on a granola bar.

“It’s probably a good idea to stock up some more food in this place,” said Devil Grit. “Good or bad, people always seem to be greedy when they’re hungry.”

Devil Grit pulled out a chart and went over probabilities and graphs regarding the hotel and the potential number of visitors. Coercia just sighed and walked away toward the door. She went outside and took out her cell phone, calling her mom.

“Carol cakes!” called her mother through the phone. Coercia cringed.

“Mom, I told you not to call me that! I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” said Lilian with a giggle. “How was the interview?”

“Meh. It was alright. I proposed my idea, but nobody seemed to buy it.”

Lilian’s tone turned more serious. “Coercia, why do you insist that everyone must go down to that horrible place? Why can’t you just see the good in people?”

“Because,” Coercia said, “Everyone has flaws and they don’t realize it.”

“Yes, but that also applies to you, too. Before you get involved with the lives of others, you need to look inside and critique yourself.”

“I’m a princess. Everyone else has more flaws than I do.”

Lilian let out a long sigh. “Young lady, we’ve been through this I don’t know how many times. You have to push your selfish thoughts aside and just accept the way things are. It’s part of a higher purpose.”

“And what is this “higher purpose” anyway? To be His flock of dazed sheep, dancing around without any care in the world? To not experience ecstasy and adventure, even for just a moment?”

“That stuff is dangerous and forbidden. Thousands of souls would do anything to get up to this level of Heaven. And you just want to throw your life away?”

Coercia paused in thought. “If it means proving myself and serving Him in a way I see fit, then so be it.”

“You have delusions of what entertainment and happiness is, Carol. Sometimes, you need to take the time and appreciate the beauty that’s in front of you.”

“Other than my own refection, I don’t really see beauty in many other things. Well, heavy metal and watching battles…oh and watching sinners beg for their last breaths…”

“You have a lot to learn, dear daughter,” Lilian replied. “I’ll leave you alone to think about it.”

“Whatever.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

Coercia hung up and went back inside, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the door frame, closing her eyes in frustration…trying to hold back a stream of tears from the stress.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Two knocks, four ones, then a last one. Coercia turned around with a sigh to answer it. She swung the stained glass door open. From outside stood a tall slender man with a pale light gray face, wearing a light blue pinstriped dress coat. A white upward cross was part of the design on his light blue undershirt. He was carrying a modern microphone atop a staff in his left hand. His small antlers were white and his hair and deer ears were blue with white tips. A monocle rested under his left eye. Coercia narrowed her eyes.

“Hi, excuse me…” he spoke quietly. “Is this…”

Coercia angrily slammed the door in his face.

She opened it again.

“…the right address?” finished the man.

“No!” she shouted, slamming it again.

“Hey Phalla!” called Coercia.

“What?” her friend asked.

“The crybaby Deer Man is at the door!”

“What?!” she asked, blushes appearing on her cheeks.

“Who?” asked Devil Grit.

“What should I do?”

“Well…let him in!” Phalla cried, eye shining.

Coercia rolled her eyes and scoffed. She sighed and opened the door again.

“May I talk now?” the man asked in a radio voice.

“Sure, whatever,” Coercia said.

The man held out a white gloved four-fingered hand. “Rotsala, it’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.” He walked in. Worry was etched on his face. “I saw your interview on the picture show and I was worried sick! I was afraid you were never coming back after your argument. Why I haven’t been that upset since the 1929 Stock Market Crash!” He sniffed, “So many poor orphans…”

“Hello there!” Phalla called with a smile, staring up and walking in front of him. She greeted in Spanish. “I’m so glad you’re here to help out my friend with this new hotel! I’m a big fan of yours and just being in your presence is just…” She swooned. “Oh just take me already you cute, pompous, talk show, blueberry pimp lord!”

She embraced him and he stood stunned, his face blushing. “I do love hugs,” he whispered as she stepped back. “I bet all of you would be so nice and soft after we get to know each other for a while…”

Phalla blushed while Devil Grit and Coercia made disgusted faces. “Not gonna happen, creep,” Devil Grit said.

Rotsala gave a nervous laugh, and popped a strawberry and blueberry into his mouth.

“You’re not gonna cling to us are you?” Phallas asked. “Or, you know…”

“Dear, if I wanted to screw anyone here…I would’ve done so already.”

Rotsala tilted his head. His blue eyes briefly glowed with blue upside down radio dials in them. Electricity sparked around cyan colored voodoo symbols in the air. His eyes filled with tears, tears spilling down his pale gray cheeks.

Phalla watched in bliss, while Devil and Coercia rolled their eyes at the show-off.

Rotsala shook his head and his eyes returned to normal blue.

“No, I’m here because I want to relax and help out.”

“Say what?” Coercia asked, eyebrow raised.

Rotsala held up his staff which glowed blue. He said with a sad crack in his voice, “Goodbye, is this thing off?”

He tapped it. A blue sad looking eye appeared in the center of the microphone. It spoke in a mechanical voice. “You’re silent, quiet and unclear!”

“That’s your motivation motto every day?” Devil Grit asked, crossing his four arms. “Pathetic!”

“Tragic and mysterious, I love it!” Phalla squealed. “It’s like the opposite of announcing. It’s…denouncing.”

Devil Grit elbowed her. “Hun, could you not get attracted to every other man you see? I’m your boyfriend.”

“I can’t help it, love!” she cried. “I just get so distracted easily.”

“Um…you want to help?” Coercia asked.

Rotsala appeared behind them after morphing into light.

“With…” he spoke in her growl then his normal shy sounding voice, “…this random thing you’re trying to do. This hotel. I want to help you run it, if that’s okay.”

“Uh…why?”

Rotsala choked a bit on his words. “Why doesn’t anyone do anything? Sheer absolute lethargy! I’ve been partying around and keeping busy for decades. I would like to do something more relaxing and easier.”

“My work became overwhelming, lacking focus. I’ve come to crave a new form of disengagement!”

Coercia rolled her eyes. “Does getting into a fist fight with a reporter count as disengagement?”

“No,” Rotsala said. “It’s violent and messy, not really my thing. Life is truly strange…reality, fantasy, true tragedy. After all the world is a grave, and the grave is a world of disengagement!”

Coercia brightened a bit. “So, does this mean you think it’s possible to taint an angel? That life is meaningless without your own self to temporarily control it.”

Rotsala sniffed and held up a hand. “Who knows? Anything’s possible. Sinning, oh the vice of humanity! I think there’s plenty left that can change such marvelous saints. But then again, the chance that was given to them was the life they lived before. The reward is this!” He spread out his arms. “According to God, there’s no undoing what is done…or at least that’s the way it should be.”

“So then, why do you want to help me if you don’t fully believe in my cause?” Coercia asked.

Rotsala turned around to look at her. “Consider it an investment in ongoing knowledge for myself and others.” He let out a small smile. “I want to watch the blessed of this world struggle to give into temptation, only to repeatedly realize and raise themselves up the golden ladder of success!” His eyes glowed blue.

“Right…” Coercia began.

“Yes indeed,” Rotsala said, both of them walking off to the side. “I see you taking risks and who better to keep you grounded than I.”

“Ah, so what’s the deal with Mr. Frown over there?” Devil Grit asked.

“Wait, you’ve never heard of him before?” Phalla asked. “You’ve been here longer than me!”

Devil shrugged his shoulders.

“The Techno Angel, one of the most complex beings Heaven as ever seen?”

“Eh, I’m not too big on people.”

Phalla sighed and leaned in close to explain.

“Decades ago, Rotsala manifested in Heaven, seemingly in one day. He began to catch the attention of overlords and archangels who had kept to themselves for centuries. That kind of attraction and magic power had never been harnessed by a mortal soul before. Then, he broadcast his adventures all throughout Heaven just so everyone could experience some joy, tragedy and emotions. Saints starting calling him the Techno Angel, (as unoriginal as that is). Many have speculated what unimaginable force enabled him to rival our world’s most ancient and constructive heroes. But one thing’s for sure: he’s an unpredictable source of silliness, a depressed spirit of mystery and a loving being of order…or disorder, the likes of which we can get involved in, especially if we want to end up aroused!”

“You done?” Devil asked. “He looks like a blueberry businessman. Or a shady con-man. Either way, you’re delusional.”

“Well, I trust him completely!”

“Do you blindly trust any man? All men?”

Phalla skipped over to Coercia. Rotsala examined a family portrait of Lucius, Lilian and a young Coercia in the center. Young Coercia wore a white dress with a turquoise top to it. Her hair was jet black, braided in black barbed wire, her cheeks had teal blushes. Her mother had long black hair and wore a fancy white dress and a round gold crown. Her father was dressed in a dress suit of white and blue, with blue and black stripes in the center below a white bow tie. He wore a large light gray top hat with a dove and a green apple on it. His cane also had a green apple on the top. Both of them were smiling, showing rows of sharp teeth, white wings folded behind them.

“Coercia, listen to me, you can believe this dreamer. He isn’t just a sad face. He’s a miracle maker, pure good! But… don’t count on him to believe in your cause. He could be tainted and rebel, but we don’t know that. He could very well side with God and your parents. And he’s most likely looking for a way to hinder everything we’re trying to do if it means following God’s rules. But still, give him a chance. He’s really sweet.”

“I…” Coercia began. “…we don’t know that. Look, he’s a crying bitch, and he probably doesn’t want to change.”

Phalla put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.

“The whole point of your hotel is to give people a chance! To have faith things will be better and people can embrace their flaws, their true selves! How can you turn someone away? You can’t. It goes against everything you’re trying to do. Everything you believe in.”

Coercia looked downcast. Her friend had a good point. She hated when people made good arguments against her. But it also gave her a chance to consider her thoughts. Phalla kept her grounded and added some cheer to her overall fake afterlife. Coercia smiled at her.

“You take care of yourself,” she said to Phalla.

“Coercia,” warned Phalla, “Unless you are serious about responsibility, do not make a promise with him!”

Demons often made deals with each other that often resulted in gaining power at the cost of one’s soul or freedom. Usually the one who initiated the deal would gain advantage. A demonic deal was bad in and of itself. Breaking an angelic promise could result in rejection, eternal torture and damnation.

“Don’t worry,” said Coercia. “I learned one thing from my dad.” She mimicked his low voice, “Ya don’t break trust with other angels!”

Coercia marched over to the Techno Angel.

“Ok Mr. Rot... You’re prissy as fuck, and you clearly see what I’m trying to do here is a too-dangerous risk. But I don’t.”

Glowing blue symbols briefly appeared around a concerned Rotsala, then vanished.

Coercia continued. “I think everyone deserves a chance to prove they can be themselves. After all, it’s in their nature and the sooner they realize it, the better. So, I’m taking your offer to help. On the condition there be no lessons or lovey-dovey speeches made.”

Rotsala twirled his cane and held out his smallest finger from his right hand.

“So, it’s a promise, then?”

The room was surrounded by a pink aura as light spirits roamed around the walls. The wind blew against Phalla’s and Devil’s faces.

“Nope!” Coercia yelled, holding out her hands. The energy stopped. “No shaking, no promises! I…hmmm…”

She paused in thought.

“As Princess of Heaven and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help out with this hotel for as long as you desire.”

A moment of pause…

“Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Rotsala said with a slump of his shoulders and walked on. His cane vanished.

Rotsala stopped and spotted Phalla to the side.

Phalla went up and tickled him under the chin, much to his shock.

“Smile, deer man!” she said.

Rotsala walked on, speechless.

“So…where is your hotel staff?” Rotsala asked Coercia.

“Uh well,” Coercia began. Rotsala peered at Phalla through his monocle below his left eye.

He stuttered. “You’re going to n-need more than that.”

Rotsala walked over to Devil Grit, who was sitting on a stool.

“And what can I do, my business fellow?” asked Rotsala walking over to the dark furred spider, blushing.

“You can suck a dick,” Devil retorted in a grumpy tone.

“AH! Ok,” said Rotsala, blushing and stepping back. “Can it be yours?”

“Fuck off,” Devil added, pulling out a long knife from his belt.

Rotsala summoned his cane. “Well this just won’t do. You want others to cause trouble, yes? I suppose I can cash in a few favors to deaden things up!”

He snapped his fingers and the wall beside the fireplace cracked. The circle went dark, the fire going out. Ice cold water appeared to fill in the circle and a shadowy figure solely formed inside. Rotsala walked over and removed the dripping figure from the water. A large single purple eye was revealed.

Devil Grit, Phalla and Coercia peered at the creature. With a balloon deflating sound and a puff of white smoke, the figure was revealed.

“This little rascal is Klutzy!” Rotsala announced with a worried smile, dropping the figure.

A black-skinned short cyclops female landed on her face on the floor. She stood up with a grumpy look on her face. She wore a dark green skirt with a white stray cat off to the left side. Her arms and legs were white and stick-shaped. Several blue dots stood out from the lighter green color of her skirt. Her shirt was black with cyan paint spots off to the right. Her large eye took up much of her pale white face; it was dark blue with a white pupil. Her short hair was teal with a dark blue spot off to the left.

“I’m Klutzy,” she grumbled, clenching her fists. “It’s a waste of time to meet you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen strangers.”

Her pupil narrowed from side to side.

“Why are you all men?” she asked. “Have any women here? Or video games? Screw this place.”

She briefly picked up Coercia, then let go.

“Oh man, this place is boring!” she exclaimed. She ran over to a vase and proceeded to knock it over with her elbow. It shattered to pieces on the floor. She tossed couch cushions aside.

“It really needs a more manly touch, disorganized clutter’s more fun.” She grinned as she poured dirt from a flower pot onto the rug.

“Yes, yes, yep, yeah!” she yelled as she proceeded to break windows and knock down more stuff. Then she plopped down on a couch once the room was messy. “I’m bored. Make me some food or something.”

Phalla, Devil, and Coercia looked on in worry, Rotsala just stared off into space. “She has quite the temper sometimes.”

A cat angel was working on a Rubik’s cube with colleagues. His furry face was black, framed by white fur. His little top hat was white with a blue band across it. A big teal bow tie was under his neck, over his black furry chest framed by white fur. His wings were a brilliant blue, with black and red mathematical symbols on either side: the pi symbol, E = mc squared, signs for addition, subtraction, multiplication and division, among others. More symbols were visible within his two pointed ears. His teeth were sharp and purple and his long eyebrows were teal. His eyes were purple and sclera white. The angel placed a Rubik’s cube in front of him. “Ha!” he declared in triumph. Read ‘em and weep, boys! Full…whoa…”

He felt himself being transported in a flash of light to the hotel. Part of the science room that the cat had been in was merged with the hotel lobby…posters of the elements, the solar system and Biblical works of art.

“What in Heaven’s name is going on?

Then he brightened when he saw Rotsala. “You!”

“Ah, Core, my old friend,” Stalaro sniffed, his head briefly looking like it was in between antlers from a stuffed deer head on the wall. “You made it.”

“Glad to see you, you son of the sun!” Core said. “I just completed my Rubik’s cube after just an hour.”

The cube vanished as Rotsala looked on.

Core raced over to Rotsala and embraced him in a side hug. The deer-like man blushed. “So, what can I help you with this time?”

Rotsala blinked nervously. “C-Can we snuggle?”

Core laughed. “I mean, seriously, why’d you bring me here?”

“My friend, I’m doing some dirty work, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services. If that’s okay?”

“You must be joking,” Core said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“You thought it’d be a great idea just to pull me out of nowhere? You think I’m some kind of tragic boy?”

“Maybe,” Rotsala sighed, as crying sounds came from his microphone.

“I ain’t doing no dirty work.”

Rotsala appeared behind him. “Well I figured you would be the perfect face to greet and critique the guests at this fine establishment.”

He pointed his staff off toward a stand with vegetable drinks as claps and boos sounded from his staff.

“With your grumpy cat face and love of solitude…”

Core lifted up the corners of Rotsala mouth with his paws. “Aw come on, Al, Don’t forget to smile once in a while!”

His mouth frowned once he let go.

Rotsala walked over to the stand. “Don’t worry, my friend. I can make this more interesting…if you wish.”

He conjured up a bottle of catnip with his finger.

Core stared with wide happy eyes. “What, you think you can buy me with sad eyes and some cheap catnip? Well, you can!” He purred and took the bottle with him.

Coercia, Devil, and Phalla arrived.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Phalla squealed. “Brilliant idea to have healthy drinks!”

“No!” Coercia protested. “This is supposed to be a place that encourages sin! Not some kind of, frilly, Zen, child’s play…”

Core noticed Devil Grit and slid up to him. “Hey cutie,” he flirted.

“Go screw yourself,” muttered Devil Grit.

“Only if you watch me,” Core joked. “Or more likely, Rotsala will watch you.”

Coercia leaned in close to Core. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You are going to go insane here!” She grinned, her teeth sharp.

“We’re all mad here,” Core replied, sniffing the catnip.

Rotsala walked in, an ever-present frown on his face. “S-so, what do you think?”

Rotsala ran over to him. “This is horrible!” she spat.

“It’s amazing!” Phalla beamed.

Phalla leaned in close between Coercia and Rotsala, embracing them in a hug.

“This is going to be very disengaging,” Rotsala exclaimed. Dubstep sounds emitted from his mouth as he stared around with worry. He stepped away from Phalla. “Coercia, I can’t lose you. We can’t lose you.”

Rotsala changed his light blue suit into a dark blue funeral outfit with a matching top hat. He did the same with Coercia, Devil Grit, Core, Klutzy, and Phalla, who were all wearing black clothing from the early 1900s. Coercia wore a short tan flapper dress and a round matching ladies’ hat. She and Klutzy stared at their outfits in disgust, while Devil Grit, Core and Phalla smiled as they stared at theirs. The room changed, the walls now covered with Voodoo symbols, Christian crosses and deer antlers.

“Take it boys,” Rotsala said. Light spirits appeared and played violins, a piano, and a flute in a sad symphony.

Rotsala sang his reprise to Coercia as they did a slow dance. Coercia looked annoyed but Rotsala smiled.

(“Stalaro’s lament Reprise”)

“You’re on a mission

Your innocence fell

And it’s so dangerous but hey, I wish you well

Yes your blunt protests

Will send you straight to Hell

And I can’t bear to see you banished, or your soul up to sell”

“Don’t bring your life to an end

No matter what you say, I’m still your friend

We all have our wounds to mend

And you’re vulnerable feelings are real, don’t pretend”

“Inside of every angel is love and emotion

They have values and lasting devotion (devotion to God)

While you recruit those around

Don’t be swallowed by the ground

The authorities can retrieve you tight and bound (no turning around)”

“Here above the sky

Spread your wings and fly

They’ll spend a little time

Down at this Haven Ho…”

An explosion rattled the windows. Klutzy saw a door flying toward her face and she broke it in half with a karate chop.

The room and everyone’s clothing returned to normal.

Everyone looked outside and saw a podium in the air, held up by flying metallic eggs. A familiar snake debater appeared.

“Look who it is harboring the striped annoying opponent! We meet again, Rotsala!”

“Do I know you?” Rotsala asked.

Tears came to Anguis’ eyes. “Oh yes, you do! Watch this presentation!”

The eggs danced in the air, singing a song about Sir Anguis trying his best to rule Heaven. He read from notecards. “You all can’t compete with me. Your hotel sucks. I…shall…destroy it…with… my…”

Rotsala giggled and blushed. “Your baby weiner havor?”

Anguis looked up from his cards in anger. “Not like that, pervert!”

Rotsala snapped his fingers. A portal appeared and white tentacles shot out, knocking the podium off balance. The metal eggs knocked into Sir Anguis and he yelled, “Ow that hurt! Show mercy!”

Rotsala used a drop of his blood and the podium exploded in green smoke.

Sir Anguis emerged from the crater, arm shaking, fangs shattered. Rotsala waved a hand and the snake was healed.

“Shoot me with your ray gun,” said a metal egg beside him. Sir Anguis face-planted on the ground.

Rotsala looked on, sadly while everyone else stared, stunned.

“Anyone hungry?” Rotsala asked turning around. “Please don’t make me cook jambalaya. It’s way too spicy and it nearly killed me! I much prefer tea and sugared strawberries, oh the way they melt in my mouth… but anyway, you could say the kick brought me straight into Heaven.”

Rotsala lead the way back to the hotel, the group following him.

“Yes sir, new changes are about to take place. Now…”

Rotsala waved his finger at the lit up sign above the glass, gem-encrusted building on the roof.

The sign changed from “Hazbin Hotel” to “Haven Hotel.”

“Stay tuned.” He finished with low whimpers.

#2PHazbinHotel #heavenhotel #havenhotel #2p

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beshert-bh · 4 years

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My journey to/with Judaism

***This is a super long post, it’s the FULL story, not a brief overview, but it would mean the WORLD to me if you read it***

Upbringing: very much Not Jewish™️

I was born into a Catholic family. I have a goyish last name. I was baptized as an infant, and my parents took me to church each week as a kid.

In kindergarten — back when I still went to a secular private school — one of my best friends was Jewish. He told me all about the traditions his family did...told me all about the kippahs they wear, and how they had their own game called dreidel for this holiday they celebrated, called Hanukkah. (Of course this convo was at a basic-kindergarten-level of knowledge.) When I came home from school I was fascinated with Hanukkah, (this is cringey to admit but my 5-year-old self tried to integrate the traditions together and so in order to do this I drew up a “Christmas dreidel” complete with Santa Claus’ face on one side, a present on another side...you get it)

And that is when I was promptly put in “parochial” schools. I went to Catholic school from 1st grade to 12th grade. I went through Holy Communion and Confirmation like all the other kids did. My elementary soccer team’s mascot was an Angel. My high school’s mascot was a Crusader. Our high school was located on Rome Avenue. I went to a Catholic youth conference. I considered becoming a nun because I was single all throughout high school.

Growing up, around Christmastime we would always travel to visit my grandma, and she would always say we’re “German Jewish” — but I would write her off. In my mind, I was like, Yeah ok like 1%? .....It felt like my grandma was acting like one of those white people who takes a DNA test and says, “Look! We’re 1% African!” So I would dismiss her and remind her how we’re Catholics and she would drop the subject.

Falling away from Xtianity: my first 2 years of college

My freshman year I changed — politically — as I was only conservative in high school because of the ‘pro-life’ agenda being shoved down my throat. I really aligned more with liberal and leftist policies and views, though. Once I became open to new political ideology, I began to question my theological beliefs.

I always had a strong connection to God. My whole life. But I struggled with connecting to Jesus, Mary, the saints, and so on. So obviously my freshman year of college I began to fall away from Catholicism.

You see, Catholics are “bad at the Bible” as I like to say. Other Christians do a better job of teaching and analyzing the writings. They actually require school-aged children to memorize Scripture passages. Catholics mostly just teach the same stuff over and over. Jesus, Mary, Joseph, blah blah blah. Catechism, liturgical calendar, blah blah blah. Parts of the mass, fruits of the spirit, blah blah blah.

So since I was already doubting Catholicism, its corrupt leadership, and its mindless traditions.... I thought maaaaybeeee I would find purpose, truth, clarity, etc. in plain-old Christianity. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The other Christian churches I went to baptized people (which is a BIG LIFE DECISION) on the spot. For example if a newcomer felt on a whim that they wanted to be baptized, the church would do it right then & there. No learning, no planning or preparing, that was it. They promoted blind faith and circular thinking. I began to realize these were both normal attitudes and cognitive patterns within any and every Christian community that I encountered.

Even the Christians who exhibited curiosity mostly just asked questions in order to be able to understand, and then accept, the doctrine as truth. Questions never ever challenged anything.

Oh and let’s throw in the fact that I’m bisexual. Homophobia, transphobia, biphobia (and more) are rampant in the church. So needless to say, with all my observations about the lack of logical thinking in the church (and considering my sexual orientation) I fell away. I stopped going to church unless my family made me when I was home from college.

Enter stage right: Judaism

In retrospect I happened to have a lot of friends in my sorority and my favorite fraternity on campus who were Jewish (the frat happened to be a traditionally-Jewish one). Thought nothing of it at the time. Fast forward to junior year when I met this cute guy on Tinder. He’s now my boyfriend and we’ve been dating for over a year. He didn’t tell me this on Tinder, but when we went on our first date, he revealed that he’s Jewish and wanted to make sure that’s something I was ok with. Clearly I had no problem with that. I wasn’t too into Christianity anymore but I still identified as one (and I was still surrounded by Christian friends in my sorority) so I told him I was Christian/raised Catholic and asked hypothetically if he would be comfortable with a “both” family. He said yes.

We started dating during an October, so of course Hanukkah came up soon. There was a mega challah bake at our local Chabad, which he took me to, and we had a blast. From then on I decided I wanted to show him how supportive I was of his Jewishness. (The last girl he dated dumped him after 3 months BECAUSE he was Jewish... so I felt that I needed to be supportive)

We started going to shabbat services and dinner every week. We did Hanukkah together (we bought our first menorah together, he taught me how to spin a dreidel, his mom bought me Hanukkah socks...lol). At some point in our relationship I told him I may have Jewish ancestry from my grandma but it’s distant and my whole extended family is Christian so it really wouldn’t even matter. I don’t remember when I had that conversation with him.

Eventually, after another few months of Shabbat services and Shabbat dinners, Pesach came around.

We went to the first seder together. The second seder is what changed everything.

Deciding to convert

At first I wasn’t sure if I belonged at this second seder. My boyfriend had always brought me to every event. I had never attended anything alone at Chabad before. But I went anyway. Throughout the night I felt increasingly comfortable. I had never felt more like I was a *part of something* than I did at this seder.

I sat near a friend who I recognized. (He knows I’m raised Catholic.) Then he & his friends welcomed me. We all took turns reading from the Haggadah, we drank the four cups of wine together, and we laughed together as I had maror for the first time.

Then the familiar faces left to go home, and one of them even went to another table to sit with his other friends whom he hadn’t had a chance to see yet that night. Naturally I thought I was alone again. I almost left, but something tugged at my heart to stay until the very end of the second seder. Something told me to keep going and keep taking in this wonderful experience.

The rest of the night consisted of many songs (most likely prayers, in retrospect) I did not know. Everyone stood to sing and we all clapped to the rhythm. I knew none of the words but I still clapped along, alone at my own table. Then one of the boys — the one who had been sitting with my friends and I earlier — motioned at me to come over and join his other friends. I approached this new table full of people I’d never met, feeling awkward as ever, and they not only hoisted me up to stand on the table with them as they chanted, but they also included me in their dance circle. (no, I don’t think it was the Hora, we just spun around over and over. lol.)

This was the first night I felt at home with Judaism. Going through the Jewish history with the Haggadah, remembering the important occurrences and symbolizing them with various foods, ending the night by being welcomed into the community... it was transformative. After attending shabbat services for months and learning about Jewish values, it changed something in me when I observed Pesach for the first time last year. I knew this path would be right for me. I felt as if my soul had found where it belonged. The Jewish history, traditions, beliefs, and customs resonated with me. It all just... made sense.

I told my boyfriend I wanted to convert. I wrote three pages of reasons. But I sat on the idea of converting and did nothing for a while. I did do some more research on Judaism, though, as I continued to attend services each week.

The exploration stage

I began to actually research on my own time. If converting was something I was genuinely considering, it was high time I began actively learning as much as I could possibly learn. It was time to dive deeper than just attending the weekly services and googling the proper greetings for Jewish holidays.

I started digging deeper into Judaism and Christianity so I could compare and contrast the two. I needed to understand the similarities and differences. And BOY are they different. That was surprising at first, but the more I learned about Judaism, the more I loved how different it was from the Christianity I was indoctrinated into.

Not only are the values and teachings of each religion vastly different, but the Tanakh (which is “The Old Testsment” in Christian Bibles) actually contradicts:

The entire “New Testament”

The gospel books specifically

The Pauline letters specifically

How did I realize this? Some bible study of my own, but mostly through online research. And, of course, I would have gotten nowhere without the help of Rabbi Tovia Singer and his YouTube videos. He debunks everything there is to debunk about Christianity.

Here were some things I came across when researching:

It confused me how the four Gospels didn’t align (like, major parts of the story did not align at all...and supposedly they’re divinely inspired...but they don’t even corroborate one another?)

It confused me how the psalms we sang in church were worded completely different from the true wording in the Bible (essentially the Christian church is taking tehillim and altering it to benefit Christian dogma and Christian rhetoric.)

It confused me how we read in the Bible that Jews are ‘God’s chosen people’ and yet in every Catholic Church, every Sunday, there is a Pauline letter being read which depicts proselytization of Jews, as if Jews are lost and need Christians to save them. As if Jews would go to hell if they fail to accept Jesus.

It confused me why we would pray to Mary and the saints, because praying is worship, and worshipping anyone but God themself is idolatry.

It confused me why Christians make, sell, and use graven images. Idolatry. Again.

It confused me why Christians give absolute power to humans. For example, if you crawl up the same steps (Scala Santa) that Jesus supposedly crawled up before he died, you automatically get “saved” because *some old men who have no divine power* said so (they have a term for this and it’s called “plenary indulgence” lol).

It confused me why Jesus was believed to be the messiah considering he had to have biologically been from the line of Joseph. Wasn’t Jesus supposedly conceived without any help from Joseph? Wouldn’t that render Jesus, uh, not messiah by default? Even if he was from Joseph’s blood, he still did not complete all the tasks moshiach is supposed to fulfill. And even if he DID fulfill all the tasks required of moshiach... we still would not worship a messiah as he is human and not GOD.

These were all new thoughts I developed this past year between Pesach and Yom Kippur. New questions that challenged everything I thought I knew. It was like teaching a child 2+2≠22 but rather 2+2=4.

Hillel

This fall, after the High Holy Days, my boyfriend began attending shabbat dinners at a rabbi’s home. His new rav lives in the community and it’s exclusive to be invited, so I never imposed. We do Shabbos separately now (with some exceptions, we do it together sometimes).

I continued to go to Chabad with one of my friends who knew I wanted to convert. But one month, she couldn’t come at all, and I felt a little judged there anyway.

So I began going to Hillel a few months ago. And I honestly have found a home there.

From Hillel’s Springboard Fellow reaching out to me and taking me out for coffee to get to know me... to running into my sorority & fraternity friends at every Hillel event (shabbat or otherwise)... From getting included in various clubs like the women empowerment group and the mental health inclusivity group... to being the only college student to participate in Mitzvah Day (hosted by Hillel) with the elderly and the local Girl Scout troop... I feel truly welcome. I’ve started to attend every week. I even talked briefly with the rabbi about having Jewish lineage and wanting to convert.

Discovering new information

I went home to be with family during Thanksgiving break. My grandma flew in so she was there when I got home. She stayed with us from then until New Years (and she’s actually moving in with us next year.)

Of course, now I have a Jewish boyfriend, Jewish friends, and I’ve done extensive research on Judaism. So this time I had background knowledge when she inevitably said... “You know, we’re German Jewish!”

I inquired a little. I asked her what she meant. How is she Jewish? I know my uncle took a DNA test this year and came back part Ashkenazi. But I needed a deeper explanation than DNA.

She revealed to me that her mom’s mom was Jewish. We believe she married a Christian man. Together they had my great-grandmother, who I believe was Christian. She had my grandma, who had my dad, who had me.

And I immediately felt like that changed things. At first I was (internally) like, Now I definitely need to convert! But then I was like, Wait, does this make me Jewish? Am I Jewish-ish? ...Can you be considered Jewish if you’re only ethnically Jewish but not raised Jewishly? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad is your only Jewish parent? ...Can you be Jewish if your dad never had a bris or a bar mitzvah?

I joined a bunch of Jewbook groups, began learning the Hebrew calendar & holiday schedule, and found some folks who assist with Jewish genealogy. They did some digging for me and apparently I descend from the Rothschild family. THE Rothschild family.

Who is a Jew? Who “counts”?

This is something I’ve been muddling over.

At Hillel, at my school at least, most people are pretty Reform. They’re very liberal with their definitions of Judaism (they believe in patrilineal descent and not only matrilineal descent).

They accept me and see me as actually Jewish ...and the ones who don’t... they at least see me as Jewish-adjacent, an “honorary Jew” or an “ally to the Jewish people”.

My boyfriend, however, still sees me as Not Jewish.™️ (For context he’s Reform but he’s trying to become as observant as possible) I know he only thinks this was because of how we began our relationship and because of how I was raised. But I’m very confused here.

Do I count?

Do I not?

Do I count *enough* but still need to go through a formal conversion process?

So...now what?

I don’t know how to navigate this odd journey but I have felt for a while that I have a Jewish neshama and I feel a strong need to affirm it. I just don’t know how or what is appropriate. Do I learn Hebrew? Sign up for a trip to Israel/Germany/Poland? Put up a mezuzah? Or go toward the other end of the scale, and head down a path of a formal conversion/reaffirmation process?

Thank you in advance for your responses and thanks for reading. 🤎

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porkchop-ao3 · 4 years

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A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 49)

Smoke

Sorry for the wait! We’re back! With a rather dramatic chapter... Y’all know what happens after the boys return from Guarma, right? So a few warnings: gunfights, violence, injury, accidents, angst, fire... just a not very happy good times chapter. I hope it was worth the wait, though <3

Tagging @emily-strange (let me know if you ever want me to stop tagging you! Also anyone else can be tagged too if you want, just ask!)

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

Dutch returned in the evening, bursting in through the door looking absolutely nothing like himself. Everyone stopped and stared, quickly reacting with relief and joy at his return, but I could do no more than stare from the other side of the room. He looked so different. And not just because his hair wasn't perfectly swept back, shirt neatly tucked in, or pocket square sitting perfectly in his vest pocket. He was unsurprisingly dishevelled. But his eyes… there was something in them. Something different that made me feel uncomfortable for the short second they settled on me as they scanned the room. They looked darker, somehow. Not like him.

I hung back and watched as everyone celebrated his safety, relayed to him what had happened to the rest of us, told him of Sadie's strength in keeping everyone together in his absence. I could practically feel the authority falling away from her now, though, with Dutch back, he would sit back on his throne. I felt sick at the thought, for reasons I couldn't fully establish. I wasn't relieved that he was back.

I snapped out of my cold stare when I felt someone at my side. Charles. He looked at me, his eyes questioning, I forced a smile at him.

"Almost a full set. Just waitin' on Bill," I breathed, and Charles nodded.

"Bill ain't back yet? He left before I did," Dutch said, overhearing me.

"Oh, Christ," Arthur hissed, shoulders dropping in irritation.

"Where's that idiot got to? Weren't that hard finding everybody," Micah piped up. I winced.

Reading my mind, Abigail said, "that's what I'm worried about. How long till the Pinkertons find us?"

"Everybody, it's okay. We– we'll– we'll figure things out," Dutch said, holding his hand out reassuringly.

"We tried leaving clues for you fellers, letters at the post office, back at Shady Belle," Sadie said, and Dutch nodded knowingly.

"That was good thinking. We'll always find each other," Dutch said, to a murmur of agreement around the room. He sipped from the drink handed to him and moved to sit down on the chair given up for him.

I jumped out of my skin when someone else barrelled through the open door. Speak of the devil…

"Well, here you is! I asked everyone I could find and eventually someone knew, said you fools were out here," Bill growled out, stomping into the room, throwing his weight about. I raised my brows. He snapped at Sadie to get him something to drink, quickly put in his place, of course.

Despite his colourful entry, I was glad to see Bill. His return meant that we could all leave. We'd find somewhere new and far away from Saint Denis and all the Pinkertons and we could get back on our feet without such a heavy threat so close to our doorstep. It wasn't what I wanted, exactly, I wanted to get away with Arthur once and for all but with the state of the shattered remains of the gang – his family – I figured that wasn't going to happen for some time. I accepted it, somewhat. I could be patient, as long as it happened someday…

But then we heard a voice not belonging to any one of us. One I'd heard before and it struck ice into my chest and made me feel as though the floor was tilting and bile was rising in my throat.

"This is Agent Milton with the Pinkerton Detective Agency!" It was coming from outside. Hairs stood up on my arms as Dutch stood up again, crept to the window. Arthur moved too. My head shook of its own accord and I stared at his back. I knew it wasn't a social call.

Milton droned on outside, legal word vomit, translating roughly to "you're all fucked", filtering in through the rickety wooden walls of the house serving as the only barrier between us and them. Sadie began urging people into the back room, putting as much distance between us and the agents outside, I looked at her with wide, fearful eyes as she guided me by the elbow towards the back wall, away from Arthur. Arthur, who was still by the window, readying his gun, preparing to go up against God knows how many men. I could've thrown up if I wasn't so dry in the mouth.

"No, Arthur–" I mewled, voice small and quiet and even more pathetic than I feared. He didn't hear me, of course, far too focused on the danger present, the law constantly breathing down our necks finally here as a threat, a real, massive threat. A real, massive Gatling gun, pointing right at us.

A hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked me down. It was Charles, he backed into the corner next to me, and I butted up to the ladder leading to the bunk above our heads, peering through the hammocks strung up in front of me to watch Arthur, just seconds before the almighty sound of a weapon far more terrifying and powerful than any gun I had ever fired made my ears ring. Dust kicked up, splinters shattered into the room, I screamed and ducked down, folding my arms over the back of my head as I pressed my face into the ground. I was panting heavily, tensing up and squeezing my eyes shut as the house we were in was ripped to shreds by the Pinkertons' bullets. Involuntary sounds left me as I slid flat onto my belly, my legs splayed out behind me as I tried to press myself as flush to the floor as possible.

I turned my head, noticing how Charles was merely crouching and I sobbed as I tugged on his shirt, begging for him to get down. For those moments, I was absolutely certain that Arthur was dead. The way the powerful machine gun had fired so quickly, so relentlessly, its bullets not stopping for anything with barely a warning while Arthur had been standing so close to the window–

"Arthur! Follow me!" Sadie's words brought me immense relief, but not half as much as hearing his voice–

"Just stay down, all of you!" He yelled, I could hear him behind me, I turned and looked and saw him crawling towards the door, gunfire screaming past above his head. He met my eyes for half a second, his were wide, focused, yet panicked. He looked away, passed me, made it to the door. He could not afford to stop and comfort me, and he was gone.

Something shattered, there was a burst of light and then a lot of confusion. A lot of heat. Screaming, too, firstly a scream of shock from Tilly. But then I was screaming. My leg felt like it was ice cold, like I'd just jumped into Lake Isabella, I wondered what the hell was going on and then my brain righted itself. It wasn't cold, it was burning. I was so confused and people surrounded me, blankets and rags covering me and hands battering my lower half, Charles yelling, holding my shoulders still, keeping me on the ground, a heavy weight that wasn't the reason I couldn't breathe. The smell of smoke and cooking meat choked me and I retched, nothing coming up but a series of painful coughs.

Searing agony in my left leg, almost the whole thing from my ankle to my thigh. Intense, unrelenting, I could do nothing but panic and scream and cry because I couldn't move at all, not with the hands on me. I pictured the scene behind me. I was on fire, I understood that much, I envisioned a giant fire engulfing the entire lower half of me, spitting and hissing and roasting me alive as people tried in vain to put it out. It'd spread. Soon it'd swallow me whole. This was how I was going to die, I was going to burn alive at the hands of the Pinkerton Detective Agency.

"You're okay! You're okay, just breathe," Charles' voice came into focus, everything was so loud. I was moved, my head shifted onto something warm and soft, hands on my head, fingers pushing my hair from my eyes and my mouth, shaking, I was being shaken, or rocked. I opened my eyes and saw a lot of blue. Charles' shirt. He was hunched over me, cradling my head in his lap.

I raked in a raw breath that hurt my throat. I must've screamed a lot, I felt like I'd swallowed sharp gravel. An indiscernible length of time passed and the gunfire kept on going, my leg kept on burning, sharp and insistent and pulling almost every bit of my attention. I laid draped over Charles' lap, my face pressed into what I assumed was his stomach, my arms around him and clinging to his shirt, just gripping, holding on for dear life as I waited and waited for everything to be over, wondering if this was how I was spending my final moments.

And then it all stopped. It stopped, and I was still alive. In a lot of pain, burning and burning, not getting any better. Was I still on fire? I couldn't hear the crackle of flames anymore. But I could smell smoke. I thanked God the burning flesh smell was gone, though. What had happened to me? What did I look like from the waist down? Jesus Christ how bad was it? I daren't move. Couldn't if I wanted to. Every shift shot up my leg and made me gasp and every muscle felt tight and rigid, stiff.

Charles said my name. Others did too, it sounded like Tilly and Mary-Beth, people talking and fussing. More hands on me, my skirt being lifted, more pain.

"Somebody get some water," Charles said, commanding and loud, not at all level and placid like he usually was.

Heavy, stomping, urgent footsteps. "What the hell happened?" Arthur! Oh, Arthur, he was alive! He was angry.

"Lantern got shot, the flames got to her skirt. We put it out as quick as we could," Charles explained, all news to me too, "come on, it's okay, I need to move you," he said to me, taking his hands to my arms, lifting them. I had to work to unclasp my hands from his shirt.

"All I heard was her screaming and screaming– I thought she'd been shot, Jesus Christ, I thought she–" Arthur was panicked and loud, my ears were buzzing but everything was still so loud.

Charles picked me off of him, turning me onto my back, a pair of hands on my boots held my feet up and guided me until I was sitting upright against the wall, lifted back there by strong hands underneath my arms. I was breathing fast and heavy and I hadn't opened my eyes yet, scared of what I'd see of my body. I gasped and jolted as water was splashed over my leg. It felt freezing, unnaturally so. But I didn't trust myself to gauge temperature anymore.

My hand was pried from my skirt where I hadn't even realised I'd started gripping, our fingers slotting together in a way so tender and intimate it made me open my eyes to ensure that it wasn't Charles, I was disoriented to find that he wasn't by my side anymore, replaced by Arthur. His face was stricken, he stared at me, lips parted, his other hand going to my cheek, turning my face to him, he covered my view of my legs as more water flowed over me. It soothed me some, but the burning persisted.

"Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry," he told me, his voice cracking. I shook my head. Don't feel bad because of me!

"Is it bad?" I murmured, my lips feeling dry and stiff. Arthur turned his head.

"It ain't as bad as I thought, it's blistered but only on the calf, the rest of the leg ain't so bad, but it's gotta hurt," someone else said in response, Tilly.

"Oh, my lord does it hurt," I breathed, almost managing to laugh.

"Ain't never heard anyone scream like that, I thought I was coming back in here to a– I wanted to come back right away but the- the Pinkertons–" Arthur started, shaking his head the whole time. His eyes were wet.

"What do we do, Miss Grimshaw?" Tilly asked.

"It needs dressing. And she needs something for the pain, we got any whiskey left?" Came Susan's response.

"We ran out of booze weeks ago," Uncle announced from some far away location.

"I wonder who drank it all," Pearson's murmur didn't go unheard.

"Oh, don't start!" Karen yelled.

"I didn't even look at you!"

"Yeah, but I know what you meant, you miserable old shit stirrer."

"I meant Uncle!"

"Excuse me?!"

"Shut up, the lot of you!" Arthur snapped, a growl of a shout I had never heard directed at anyone in the gang but Micah. "I got a bottle in my damn satchel," he added retrieving it, pushing it into my hands.

I unscrewed the cap and took a gulp, coughing at the bitter sting at the back of my throat, screwing up my face.

"Everybody, give her some space, come on," Dutch called out. He was there? I didn't see him, was surprised to hear him. Most people shuffled out of the room, and I glanced at my surroundings. The floor was blackened, the walls too, all in a wide radius of where the lantern had been. At least they'd managed to put it out before it consumed the whole building with everyone in it.

Miss Grimshaw kneeled at my feet alongside Tilly and I finally looked at the damage. My skirt was almost completely eaten away up the left side, the edges black and crisp, my underskirt the same. My drawers were ravaged too, I could only pray there was enough clothing left to cover me up. My leg was certainly burnt, but Tilly was right, the worst of it was on my lower calf where the skin blistered and wept, the area surrounding it – stretching right up above my knee – hurt but bared few visible signs of injury. I was extremely lucky, all things considered.

"I'd better give it a good rinse, make sure you ain't got none of what's left of your skirt stuck to it," Susan said, Mary-Beth came in with a second bucket of fresh water and more was splashed over my burn. I hissed and stiffened up.

Arthur's forehead pressed against my shoulder, one hand still gripping mine, the other brushing up and down my arm. He released a very shaky, stuttered breath. I wondered if he was crying.

"My angel, I'm gonna get you out of here. I don't ever want you getting hurt like this again, I gotta find a way for you and me to get– to go someplace else–" he began muttering, perhaps louder than he intended, my eyes drifted to where Dutch was standing in the doorway, eyes intent on my leg, no doubt hearing every word.

"Arthur will you show- show me that drawin' you did that day out in Scarlett Meadows, you remember that? You stopped and drew the scenery and it was when I found out you could draw," I cut him off, not allowing him to dig any deeper. I didn't know what Dutch would do with the information Arthur was spewing out.

Arthur grunted in confusion, lifting his head and meeting my eyes. "You wanna see that right now?"

"It hurts, lookin' at it might take my mind off it," I whispered.

He didn't think twice. He retrieved his journal from his satchel and began flicking through, searching for the page in question. I gritted my teeth as Susan washed my leg, she was ever so gentle but my skin was so angry and sensitive that even the mildest touch sent acid up my leg.

Arthur handed the book to me, showing his beautifully rendered impression of rolling hills and wispy clouds and dancing trees. "You can look at whatever you want, princess, read what I wrote, I don't mind. If it'll help the hurtin'," he whispered, turning my hand over and drawing patterns on my palm with his fingers.

I gazed down at the drawing, remembering the moment I'd watched him do it. It was one of the moments that I realised how I was beginning to feel for him, it was a very peaceful moment. One so far removed from our lives now; the smell of charring heavy in the air, rain hitting the roof, the bodies strewn about outside. I could hear the others moving the bodies around, clearing them out of sight, trying to grasp a bit of normality after yet another ambush.

A quiet sob escaped me, I hadn't been prepared for it and I was unable to stifle it. Arthur made a pained sound, tilting his head and kissing the spot just below my eye, where a tear had landed. Then, with his head leaning against mine, his fingers plucked at the pages, flicking through page after page of pretty cursive handwriting and impressive drawings. I saw flowers and animals and landscapes, then myself. Standing by Rayna, brushing through her mane, I was there on the page rendered so true and real, though prettier than I saw myself. Arthur lingered on that page, sliding his finger down along the edge and then across to underline the words written below the drawing; my sweet angel.

I turned and wrapped my arm around his neck, joining our lips, kissing him sweetly and tenderly, not caring that people were seeing. They were far too concerned with tending to my burns, anyway. The kiss was distracting me from the pain, far more pleasant pain relief than the whiskey that burned my throat and would make me nauseous. Arthur and I's lips parted minutely.

"I love you," we mouthed to each other in sync, and then we laughed breathily.

"Okay, you pair, I think it's clean. I'm gonna go ahead and wrap it, it's gonna hurt like the devil," Miss Grimshaw called between us. I grimaced and brought the bottle of whiskey to my lips again. I didn't like drinking whiskey like this, but I knew it would help numb the pain. I chugged a fair bit of the stuff, coughing as it felt like it clung to my throat, searing and choking me.

Arthur cupped my face with both hands and pressed our foreheads together. "Look at me, princess," he said, "you and me are gonna find a way through this, get away from all these bastards on our tails. You've been hurt too many times because of me–"

"Stop blaming your–ah!" I jolted when Miss Grimshaw began dressing the worst of my burn, "yourself," I finished, panting.

"But it is my fault. If I'd just got you out of here sooner, like we discussed–"

"Arthur!" I gasped, I didn't know if it was from the pain or from shock at him speaking so freely with everyone – Miss Grimshaw, Tilly, Mary-Beth, Dutch – mere feet away.

"I want you to go someplace safe. Somewhere in the city maybe. I'll pay to put a roof over your head, your leg is gonna take some healing and I–"

"Fuck!" I hissed, my leg jerking of its own accord when a particularly tender spot was touched with the bandage, my movement only made it worse and I growled out through clenched teeth.

"You gotta stop movin'! Tilly would you please hold her leg still?" Susan snapped, then I felt two hands on my boot, pulling my leg taught, holding it firm.

"Maybe Arthur is right. Maybe you should stay away for a little while, just while that leg heals," Dutch piped up, his stony expression somewhat unnerving.

My wide eyes flickered between Arthur and Dutch. Arthur seemed torn. Like he knew he probably shouldn't have said anything in front of him, but pleased to have someone backing him up. The boss, no less.

"Arthur, I don't wanna go nowhere," I said under my breath, gritting my teeth as the bandage wrapped around and around, seemingly never ending, burning and burning and burning–

"Of course you don't, my dear, but don't you think it'll be for the best? You don't wanna be stuck out in the swamps with that wound, do you? It's hot and filthy out here, who knows what you could catch," Dutch droned, I bit down hard on my lip as Susan tied off the bandage, tugging, pulling, stinging– "ain't no place to live, let alone die."

"Ugh, shut up!" I growled unthinkingly. "It's as good a place to live and die as any, not like my folks had much of a damn choice!"

Dutch didn't flinch, but everyone else peered up at me. It was quiet for a few moments, quiet and still.

Susan and Tilly let go of my leg carefully. "There you go, sweetness. All bandaged up. We'll keep on checking on it, make sure it's healin' okay," Susan said, breaking the silence. She and Tilly gave me some space, gathering up the materials they'd used to deal with my wound. I thanked them quietly. Dutch kept his eyes on me the entire time, brows in a hard line above his beady eyes, looking like he was staring through me, into me. It made me feel sick.

"I don't feel too good, I wanna go lie down somewhere," I murmured, looking away from Dutch, bringing my hands to the floor and testing how probable it was that I was going to walk on my leg any time soon. Bending it didn't feel like a good idea, and Arthur stopped me.

"Let me carry you," he said quietly, then rose to his feet. "I'll take you across the way, get you down on that bed for a while, okay?"

"Mhm," I nodded. He gathered the whiskey and his journal back up in his satchel then bent down to me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he lifted me with an arm behind my back and one under my knees. I winced, my tender flesh protested at the touch, but I knew that it would be over soon and he wasn't anywhere near the worst of my burns.

"You okay? I got you," he murmured to me under his breath, and I nodded. He carried me past Dutch, through the front door and into the rain. I tilted my head back towards the sky and let the droplets hit my face, envisioning the water cleaning away the smoke and soot that I imagined was coating my skin. It was cooling.

I closed my eyes as I swayed with Arthur's footsteps, and he was soon stepping onto the wooden deck of the other building, and we were sheltered from the elements once again.

"Mind the hole," I mumbled when I felt like he was walking a little too close to the middle of the room for comfort. I must've been right, because his course diverted and he made a little sound.

We entered the bedroom and Arthur lowered me down carefully, keeping his eye on my leg as he gently lowered it to the mattress, easing me onto my back. He pressed his lips to my forehead once I was settled, kissing away the crease that worried its way between my brows. The clink of glass could be heard and then he put the bottle of whiskey down on the bedside table.

"Drink as much as you need," he told me, and I nodded. "How is it?"

"It hurts," I simply said, as if it wasn't obvious. He sighed, kneeled down on the floor beside the bed and rested his head on my chest, turning onto his ear for a few moments. My jaw was clenched tight at the persistent pain in my leg, it felt ice cold again. My brain couldn't decide what was happening to me, just that it hurt.

"I should've put the lantern out before I went outside. Of course it was gonna get hit," he whispered.

"You ain't a prophet. You weren't to know. Please, Arthur, I don't need to listen to you blaming yourself for a bit of shitty luck. It could've been any of us, Charles and Tilly were right near that lantern as well. Strauss, too. Karen. We're lucky it was just me," I told him.

"I really meant what I said in there. I want us to leave together–"

"Arthur, stop. I don't mean to be rude, and I ain't saying you're a liar, but we both know that ain't gonna happen. Otherwise you'd be loading up a wagon right now with all our stuff."

He was silent for a while. He'd turned his head, his face pressed into my chest, hiding it from me.

"It's true that I want to… but you're right. I can't pretend," he finally said. "I ain't got enough money and to be honest, I don't know what I would do."

"You don't?" I whispered.

"I ain't never lived without the gang before. Well, not since I was a kid. I know if we leave, it'll all be down to me to keep you safe. When I'm out of camp now, I know you've got good folk around you, you'll be safe, but if it's just me and you…"

"You ain't gotta worry about that," I told him and he lifted his head to look at me.

"I know I shouldn't. You looked after yourself long enough, I just…" he sighed, shook his head. "Leaving ain't gonna be easy. For a lot of reasons. I wish we could do it right now, but what just happened? The whole place got shot up! People want us dead and I ain't ready to go it alone when it's your life on the line alongside mine."

"I understand. Things are far too hot right now," I shook my head too, well aware of the irony in my words given the circumstances. "Why do you think I'm not about to swan off someplace else, leaving all of you?"

"That's different. I'm what's putting you in danger, this gang. If you were to stay away, even just temporarily, you'll be out of the cross hairs. They ain't gonna go looking for you, they don't know nothing about you," he tried to persuade me, and I simply closed my eyes and sighed.

"How can you expect me to be okay with leaving you while I am terrified every day that something is going to happen to you? If the shoe was on the other foot, could you leave me?"

Arthur was silent at that. I knew he wasn't about to argue with me, perhaps he was beginning to understand my issue with the idea. He let the topic float away, his eyes fixed on something at my collar bone. I realised it must be the locket, he'd never seen it before, I was about to open my mouth to tell him about it when he spoke again.

"You mentioned your folks in there," he said. I frowned a little, confused.

"Did I?"

He nodded. "When you told Dutch to shut up," he clarified, his mouth twitching a little at that.

"Oh," I breathed, still frowning.

"You don't mention 'em much. You okay?"

"Yeah. Just being here," I shook my head, "saw their graves again. They're both buried out here. Hard not to think of them more."

"Course," he nodded, slotting his fingers between mine where they laid against my stomach.

I sighed heavily, pressing my head back into the pillow behind me and growling under my breath.

"When'll it stop feeling like it's on fire?" I exclaimed in frustration, the grating pain starting to get on my nerves.

"Drink more of this," he passed me the whiskey and I turned my nose up as I took another swig. "You don't like whiskey?"

"Not when I have to guzzle it right from sober," I explained through a clenched jaw.

"Drink it up anyway, it'll make you sleepy. Maybe when you wake up it won't hurt so bad," he suggested, bringing his free hand to my head, stroking it in a way that relaxed me. He was right, I was beginning to feel tired from the warmth in my belly and the motion of his hand.

"This is like a reverse of when you was laid up with your shoulder," I murmured. Arthur made a humming sound.

"Except you ain't said nothing embarrassing yet."

"Apparently I told Dutch to shut up," I chuckled. He smiled in amusement.

"Someone had to do it at some point. It had the desired effect, face was a picture though," he said quietly.

"I'll await my punishment."

"If he did anything he'd be a fool. The pain you was in, he's lucky that's all you said."

"I guess," I huffed a laugh, then let my eyes close.

"You look like you're dozin', I'll leave you be," he said after a moment, taking the bottle from me before I spilled it.

"No, I'm dozin' cause of what you're doing with that hand. Please don't stop," I protested, much to his amusement.

"Okay princess, I'll stay here until you're asleep. But then I ought to be speaking to Dutch and whatnot, figure out what's next."

"Mm he'll want to share his new grand plan. Next stop, Tahiti," I mumbled, hearing Arthur's quiet wheeze-laugh of a response.

"You won't ever catch me on a damn boat again, I'll tell you that for nothin'," he said with certainty. "From that poker game in Saint Denis, to getting washed up in Guarma... every time I set foot on a boat, at best I get wet and at worst I almost die. And that ain't even mentioning the fiasco that Blackwater ferry job caused."

"Yeah, it's best we stick to dry land, then."

"Abso-damn-lutely."

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #atink #reader insert #rdr2 fanfic

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tamikkogivesbrain · 4 years

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Lil’ Baby.

I was born ‘woke. Nothing to be proud about because it’s now trendy. Being born awake... is frightening. Children would see lollipops and superhero imaginary play friends... I would see MONSTERS. I would see monsters inside of people. The ugly truths they tried to hide. I wasn’t sophisticated or conniving enough to game my environment to my advantage. So my facial expressions would always get me into trouble. I would be distraught. My Spirit was... and still is... soft.

I come from a very, very, verrrrrrry Spiritual background. Full of Oracles, High Priestess Goddess Energy, Dark Magicians, and even a Practicing Voo Doo Priest who was The Villain to Our Legacy. All of it was mystical and confusing. I needed grounding. I searched for God. I listened intently to everything around me. The Asian side of my upbringing brought Catholicism into My Life. I followed instructions, got MySelf baptized, did 4 years Communion, then had My Confirmation at 13. All by MySelf.

My parents did not go to church. So I woke up 1 day in the 2nd grade and decided to walk to the end of town until I found The Church. I would get up every single Sunday after that. As I dressed myself, I would get butterflies. Father John was like a holy Santa Claus to me. I did this for 7 years. Never missed mass. I initiated my baptism late in life. You are to do it at birth, I fought to barter to have it done in 4th grade. I was very focused. The Church I attended was extremely stout in Its Structure and did not take short cuts. You study for a particular amount of years then progress to the next level. In the 4th grade I was ready for my 1st communion. EXCITEMENT!!! After that I was focused on Confirmation at 13. Which means you have right of passage in the Catholic Community. During 1st communion graduation, something occurred.

I was told by a nun that if I didn’t abide by every single rule... I was going straight to Hell. But then something in that... felt off. I was ruined on the inside but held it in and got to Confirmation 4 years later... but I felt empty. I couldn’t shake the idea that God might stop holding me down if I slipped and did something human.

I was offended.

So I left.

I didn’t leave God... I left The Organization of Religion... governed by Man. When my feelings got hurt, no matter how old I became, it was just like my facial expressions when I saw MONSTERS. An internal questioning coupled with disgust. I loved God, The Christ Jesus, and Beautiful Mother Mary. I even adopted Saints and Mother Teresa was my Confirmation Saint. They kept me company. So who was this mortal woman to tell my child heart that God could stop loving Me if I made a mistake? Wether I meant it or not. I was heart broken. 💔. It’s been a Journey ever since. My sister sent this photo of Us a while ago. My beautiful baby brother looks up at her like the superhero that she is. He was vegan as a baby and would crrrrrry when my parents would try to force him to eat meat. We wanted candy. He went out of his adorable baby way to make my mother scout this apple out of thin air for him. We were happy.

That is... until a MONSTER popped up.

My parents were young parents. My father figure had male friends that did drugs, played dominoes, drank 40s.... and once in a while....1 would creep in....a MONSTER.

I didn’t understand what that meant back then. Just knew I would get scared out of my mind. Like how come nobody else could see this monster... and what would happen if he got to me. They would tell me... “Miko, fix your face.” I wouldn’t. It was me, my true expressions, or death.

Life still funnily holds true. Smile, be popular, ignore the steel butterflies in my stomach & develop Crohns Disease because my intuition is constantly popping off the hook, or let the MONSTER know... I can still see you.

My Sister laughed and told me while everyone was always running around having fun, playing, being kids, I was always looking around stressed. Lol.

Life of a Hyper Super Sensitive Intuitive Empath.

I have gotten better at my facial expressions. I survived 20 years in The Entertainment Industry and never said a worrrrrrrd. I did what I was put here to do and when God said go...

I left.

Always me,

~T.

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dentalrecordsmusic · 5 years

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The Resurrection of My Chemical Romance: MCR’s Dark Catholicism

Words by Cae Rosch

On October 31, 2019, My Chemical Romance rose from the grave.

Resurrection isn’t a new theme for them, whether it’s in the salvation narrative the band was founded on (“We’re here to save kids’ lives”) or the pervasive undead monsters and heroes throughout their body of lyrics. The Return is another step in their decades-long salvation narrative. And that salvation narrative, one in which death is intimate and impending and necessary, one in which we come alive by shouting out our sorrows and sins like a cathartic confession to rock and roll, is deeply intertwined with a darkly Catholic perspective on the world.

It’s not new to talk about MCR as, on some level, a Catholic band - there’s already great writing about this. But the band took it to a whole new level even just with the concept of The Return, and so we have to take talking about it to a whole new level too.

We know the core members of the band come from Catholic backgrounds (specifically, for the most part, Italian-American Catholic, which is uncontestedly the most melodramatic mode of modern Catholicism). And like most people from Catholic backgrounds, there’s a complex and painful relationship there. As Gerard Way has said, “I was raised Catholic, which turned me off from religion because I had a very bad experience.” Yet in the same response, he remarked that he believed in God, even if it wasn’t in quite a Catholic way.

But that’s the thing: for the sake of this discussion, it doesn’t fucking matter if anyone believes. Regardless of the belief system you grow up to have, Catholicism isn’t something you just shake off, because it’s not simply an ideology - it’s a full-body, five-sense aesthetic world. It never fully departs your subconscious. Something, however small, lingers on your soul. That’s just as true of MCR as it is of your average Catholic or former Catholic on the street. And we can see it throughout their whole body of work.

The imagery is obvious. Song titles reference the Virgin Mary revered as Our Lady of Sorrows, lyrics are addressed to nuns and set in churches and graveyards, entire photoshoots center around Gerard Way as a rock and roll priest. The underlying narrative and its accompanying implied worldview, however, are a lot more subtle.

C.S. Lewis, though not a Catholic, was operating within a Catholic context when he wrote in Mere Christianity, “The Church exists for nothing else but to draw men into Christ, to make them little Christs.” In the salvation narrative that began as soon as the band did, MCR act as little Christs themselves. But they act within one very specific moment in Christ’s own narrative: at the moment Jesus hangs on the cross, the ninth hour, when he cries out, “Ηλει ηλει λεμα σαβαχθανι” - “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabacthani?” My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? MCR’s dark Catholicism hurts.

At the very beginning of MCR, Gerard Way thought of it as a “mission from God” despite his own troubled relationship with Catholicism. He writes, “I even firmly believed in creating MCR… The mission involved helping people and battling the forces of evil, by using word and the purifying flames produced by Marshall Halfstack amplification.” This is a saintly mission, a mission of sacrifice. It shows clearly in their early lyrics.

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On their first album, the two most Catholicly obvious songs are also the two most relevant to the band’s salvation narrative. Here, in “Vampires Will Never Hurt You,” the singer embraces the necessity of sacrifice to the point of death to save a beloved from the threat of a very Catholic monster. Vampires have a relationship with Catholicism nearly as fraught as MCR’s - Catholics make excellent monsters in the Protestant culture of early vampire literature, given their literal blood-drinking, yet Catholic iconography is also the most powerful weapon against vampires. Similarly, when Way sings, “And if they get me and the sun goes down into the ground / And if they get me, take this spike to my heart and… / You put the spike in my heart,” he becomes both savior and villain. He dies to himself and becomes a monster, abandoned by God (“Someone burned the church.”)

The only hope for others’ salvation is for him to die. Yet similar to the forsaken Christ, he still desperately cries out for his own salvation when he sings, “And someone save my soul, tonight / Please save my soul.”

“Our Lady of Sorrows,” unsurprisingly, further emphasizes the band’s drive toward sacrifice in its depiction of sainthood (“the patron saint of switchblade fights”) as an act of defiant death for the sake of salvation (“Oh, how wrong we were to think / That immortality meant never dying.”) The violent juxtaposition of that switchblade imagery with the idea of sainthood shows an intense focus on the agony of salvation - fitting, in a song named for Our Lady of Sorrows, who is depicted weeping, with seven swords that represent the seven great agonies of her life piercing her heart.

Salvation is just as painful on Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. The album and its associated era are extremely heavy on Catholic imagery in general (see the video for “Helena” and that one priest photoshoot, you know the one).

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The album’s “Interlude” is a literal prayer for the intercession of the saints (“Saints protect her now,”) and it’s immediately followed by a song directly addressed to a nun - “Thank You for the Venom.” As in “Vampires Will Never Hurt You,” the singer accepts that his sacrifice will be painful when he sings, “So give me all your poison / And give me all your pills / And give me all your hopeless hearts / And make me ill.” He takes all this onto himself to the point of violent death - “If this is what you want / Then fire at will.”

But just as the figure of Christ, forsaken on the cross, shocks us with the sudden pain of his sacrifice, the singer once again juxtaposes religious and violent imagery to force us to be aware of the complexity of the saving act - sure, his sacrifice is saving people, but it’s fucking excruciating to die. When he sings “I keep a gun in the book you gave me / Hallelujah, lock and load” in the same song as a command to “fire at will,” we can’t see him as simply accepting his sacrifice like the complacent Jesus it would be simpler to remember. Instead, he is a “little Christ” to the Jesus who calls desperately for his father as he suffers and dies. “Give me a reason to believe,” Way cries, and we feel that same desperation.

This dynamic - MCR as the abandoned, agonized martyr violently saving people - builds up through their first two albums. In the 2006 single release of “Welcome to the Black Parade” and “Heaven Help Us,” it explodes.

It’s fitting that these songs are a single and its b-side because they express the two attitudes whose tension drives MCR’s entire narrative of martyrdom and salvation. “Welcome to the Black Parade” embraces the heroic aspect of the savior, victorious through and beyond death. “Heaven Help Us” is its tortured dark side - the savior’s moment of absolute pain, isolation, and loss of faith before that victory can begin.

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“Welcome to the Black Parade” is the most explicit expression of the idea of salvation, beginning almost immediately with the request: “Would you be the savior of the broken / The beaten and the damned?” With this single release, MCR becomes completely upfront about how the thematic martyrdom in their lyrics matches up with the band’s verbalized desire “to save kids’ lives.” MCR know their fan base. Their fans are the bullied kids, the depressed kids, those struggling with trauma and addiction and anxiety - everyone society calls “broken.” It’s clear who’s stepping up to be those kids’ savior.

Though “Welcome to the Black Parade” doesn’t include the kind of explicit Catholic imagery that MCR’s previous records did, lyrics like “Do or die, you’ll never make me / Because the world will never take my heart / Go and try, you’ll never break me” demonstrate a profoundly Catholic attitude toward saving hearts and souls. No matter how much pain (and there’s clearly a lot) happens in this world, the heart persists. This song is about joyous suffering enabled by a heroic savior, about a defiant march past earthly oppression and into eternal victory. That’s pretty Catholic, my friends.

“Heaven Help Us” is about the actual pain that that savior must experience for “Welcome to the Black Parade” to have its victorious end. It’s the darker side of an already dark song.

It’s no accident that “Heaven Help Us,” while just as thematically Catholic as its A-side, is far more obvious about its Catholic imagery. Catholicism knows how to show us pain in a way that’s both beautiful and shocking. When your relationship with the Church itself is alienated and painful, that imagery comes out even more.

“Heaven Help Us” begins with a melody that eerily parallels the classic Christmas carol “O Holy Night.” But it subverts the idea of a hymn, instead almost luxuriating in sprawling religious abandonment. Its imagery is viscerally bloody - “‘Cause mostly I’ve been sprawled on these cathedral steps / While spitting out the blood and screaming / Someone save us.” The lyrics invite sacrifice (“‘Cause I’ll give you all the nails you need / Cover me in gasoline”) but also call out with the desperation of the abandoned (“And the punchline to the joke is asking / Someone save us.”

“Heaven Help Us” is a cry born from fear and resignation to abandonment. “Would you pray for me / Or make a saint of me?” becomes horrifyingly ironic when we remember how fast the path to sainthood is for martyrs - it’s almost automatic once they’re murdered. This singer isn’t the defiant hero of “Welcome to the Black Parade.” This singer is dying, alone, prayers unanswered.

And the thing about Catholicism is that both of those figures are equally Christ. Seeds of MCR’s dark salvation narrative persist throughout their discography. Even on Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, “Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back” offers salvation through sacrifice right there in the title. The release of “Welcome to the Black Parade” / “Heaven Help Us” harvests what those seeds all grow up to become - the image of Christ, forsaken. It’s the moment where the pain of fraught relationships with Catholicism crystallizes in support of the band’s mission: going forth into the world to save kids’ lives. But apparently, it wasn’t enough to leave it there.

When MCR formed, the US was a horrific place to live for a whole lot of people. The band started in 2001, and so did the shift of the Bush administration into outright pseudo-fascism. Take it from me, a young teenager of the 2000s - that was not a good time to be a depressed kid, a gay kid, a traumatized kid, any kind of religious or ethnic minority. That was a very specific cultural context, one in which MCR needed to mold themselves into the salvific figure of an alienated rock and roll “little Christ” to save a world of equally alienated kids.

They’re now reemerging in the renewed horror of the Trump administration: the Bush administration on steroids. There’s a whole lot of alienated kids who need saving. And now, at least this one savior is back.

We may not have any new music, but the imagery of MCR’s Return situates them firmly back in their dark Catholic milieu. They announced their return accompanied by a photo of Pasquale Rizzoli’s “Cella Magnani,” a funerary statue in which an angel draws the soul of a dead woman into the celestial blue of its mosaic backdrop. The new logo, in which the letters “MCR” are written in a medieval Protogothic script, situates us back in MCR’s familiar black-and-white color scheme. In combination with “Cella Magnani,” it also places us in the medieval mode of memento mori - an aesthetic practice beginning in medieval Catholicism in which actively remembering your death helps you prepare your soul to die in a state of grace. (Side note: “Welcome to the Black Parade” is included on a popular memento mori-themed playlist curated by a nun.)

A lot of the effectiveness of memento mori comes from the Catholic perspective on the resurrection of the dead - the idea that someday, Christ will rise again and enact ultimate, perfect justice, giving everybody (and every body) exactly what they deserve. So in light of that, MCR’s Return narrative is itself a Catholic salvation narrative. MCR might not literally mean it that way, but in their own small way, this Return lets us hope that someday real justice will come. Someday, someone we trust will come to judge everyone and not even death will stop it.

With their return, MCR’s dark Catholicism helps us remember that this is a band bent on saving lives - our lives. For people like us, MCR has spent 18 years building up the idea of a forsaken-Christ figure that exists specifically to save our lives - and that idea rising from the grave is pretty comforting.

Cae Rosch has been listening to MCR since 2004 and cries about Our Lady of Sorrows (the religious figure and the song) at least 18 times a day. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram.

Follow DRM on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

Subscribe to the DRM YouTube channel.

#my chemical romance #mcr #my chem #mcrmy #gerard way #frank iero #mikey way #ray toro #catholicism #catholic #feature #cae rosch

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cassianus · 4 years

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The New Evangelization Begins in the Confessional

What is the new evangelization?

The expression “new evangelization” was popularized by the important apostolic exhortation of Blessed Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi, as a response to the new challenges that the contemporary world creates for the mission of the Church. As Saint John Paul II tells us in Crossing the Threshold of Hope, the new evangelization has nothing in common with restoration, proselytism, pluralism or tolerance: instead, against the spirit of the world, the Church takes up anew each day a struggle that is none other than the struggle for the world’s soul. Saint John Paul concluded that in its ever renewed encounter with man, evangelization is linked to generational change. Generations come and go which have distanced themselves from Christ and the Church, which have accepted a secular model of thinking and living. Meanwhile, the Church is always looking toward the future and She constantly goes out to meet new generations. And new generations clearly seem to be accepting with enthusiasm what their elders seem to have rejected.

Where does the new evangelization begin?

In a speech addressed to priests and deacons at an audience with the Pope in 2012, Pope Benedict XVI maintained that the new evangelization begins in the confessional. Consciousness of one’s own sinful condition helps one to realize the need for “openness of heart” to God. “The certainty that He is close and His mercy awaits the human being, even one who is involved in sin, in order to heal his weakness with the grace of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, is always a ray of hope for the world”, Pope Benedict said. The real conversion of our hearts means opening ourselves to God’s transforming and renewing action. In confession, through the freely bestowed action of divine Mercy, repentant sinners are justified, pardoned and sanctified and they abandon their former selves to be re-clothed in the new.

The necessity of confession

Confession is a part of our great Catholic heritage and has been practiced by our Christian ancestors since the earliest days of the Church. In the Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (Didache, ca. 100) it states quite unambiguously: “Assemble on the Lord’s day and break bread and offer the Eucharist, but first make confession of your faults” (14, 1). In his groundbreaking work, Jesus of Nazareth, Part Two, Pope Benedict XVI reminds us that although we are saved by our baptism, “even the baptized remain sinners, so they need confession of sins, for in the life of Christians, –for table fellowship with the Lord– it constantly requires completion: washing of the feet”. In the First Letter of John we read, “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just, and will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we say we have not sinned, we make him a liar, and his word is not in us” (1:8-10). According to Pope Benedict XVI, the use of the word “cleanse” signals an inner connection with the foot-washing passage. In confession, the Lord washes our soiled feet over and over again and prepares us for table fellowship with him. In the humble gesture of the washing of the feet is an expression of the entire ministry of Jesus’ life and death. The Lord stands before us as the servant of God –he who for our sake becomes one who serves, who carries our burden and so grants us true purity, the capacity to draw close to God.

Medicine for the Soul

The sacrament of the forgiveness of sins presupposes sins to be forgiven. What then is sin? Sin means disobedience to God’s commandments. It is a moral lapse, a free choice of the will. Sin must be admitted if it is to be forgiven, because we cannot be forgiven for sins we do not confess and repent of. “When Christ’s faithful strive to confess all the sins that they can remember, they undoubtedly place all of them before the divine mercy for pardon. But those who fail to do so and knowingly withhold some, place nothing before the divine goodness for remission… for if the sick person is too ashamed to show his wound to the doctor, the medicine cannot heal” (CCC 1456). “Sin is in the soul what disease is in the body. Forgiveness is a healing operation, a real spiritual change: it requires the light of truth to shine on it – by confession – and only then can we find peace.” (Dr. Peter Kreeft)

The joy after confession

As C. S. Lewis noted, “Humility, after the first shock is a cheerful virtue.” The greatest saints have always had the greatest joy –for joy is one of the fruits of the Holy Spirit (Gal 5:22). Yet these same saints see themselves as the greatest sinners. Pascal said there are only two kinds of people: saints, who know they are sinners, and sinners, who think they are saints. The confession of sin frees us and facilitates our reconciliation with others. Through an admission of sin, “man looks squarely at the sins he is guilty of, takes responsibility for them, and thereby opens himself again to God and to the communion of the Church.” (CCC 1455) On the level of human psychology, each of us needs to “let it all out” and “unload” so that our conscience may be clear. Thomas A Kempis exhorts us to maintain a clean conscience, stating : “Have therefore a clean conscience and thou shalt always have gladness. A good conscience may bear many wrongs, and is ever merry and glad in adversities; but an evil conscience is always fearful and unquiet.” Pardon and peace come from confession. “The forgiven penitent is reconciled with himself in his inmost being, where he regains his innermost truth… He is reconciled with all creation.” (CCC 1469) Following confession, the penitent finds peace and serenity with strong spiritual consolation. It is a peace that includes wholeness, harmony and a right relationship with God, self, and others. It is an echo from Eden and a foretaste of heaven. This is the peace Jesus Christ gives, “not as the world gives” (John 14:27).

Confession for conversion to holiness

All of us are under a continuing need for conversion. Conversion begins in Baptism, but conversion does not end in Baptism. It is an ongoing process because it is an ongoing need. Thomas A Kempis enlightens us in The Imitation of Christ with his observation, “How great is the frailty of human nature which is ever prone to evil! Today you confess your sins and tomorrow you again commit the sins which you confessed. One moment you resolve to be careful, and yet after an hour you act as though you had made no resolution.” Baptism is our first conversion, but through confession we undergo a second conversion because we are always in need of purification. St. Ambrose says of the two conversions that in the Church, “there are water and tears: the water of Baptism and the tears of repentance.” Pope Benedict states that the new evangelization draws its lifeblood from the holiness of the children of the Church, from the daily journey of personal and community conversion in order to be ever more closely conformed to Christ. There is a close connection between holiness and the Sacrament of Reconciliation, witnessed by all the saints of history. In the Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Francis de Sales encourages us towards repentant conversion in order to gain holiness, urging: “Even as a man just recovering from illness walks only so far as he is obliged to go, with a slow and weary step, so the converted sinner journeys along as far as God commands him but slowly and wearily, until he attains a spirit of true devotion, and then, like a sound man, he not only gets along, but he runs and leaps in the way of God’s Commands, and hastens gladly along the paths of heavenly counsels and inspirations.”

Through confession we emerge renewed

Pope Benedict XVI summarized the benefits of confession saying, “In the celebration of the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the faithful have a real experience of that Mercy which Jesus of Nazareth, Lord and Christ has given to us, so that they themselves will become credible witnesses of that holiness which is the aim of the New Evangelization.” As Saint John Paul II indicated, the new evangelization is about the struggle for man’s soul: and the way to regain the souls of men is to give them a new beginning through the sacrament that renews our encounter with Christ. Our Holy Father Pope Benedict concluded his remarks to Priests in 2012 with this strong appeal: “This is my hope for each one of you: may the newness of Christ always be the center and reason for your priestly existence, so that those who meet you through your ministry may exclaim as did Andrew and John ‘we have found the Messiah’ (John 1:41). In this way, every Confession, from which each Christian will emerge renewed, will be a step ahead in the New Evangelization. May Mary, Mother of Mercy, Refuge for us sinners and Star of the New Evangelization, accompany us on our way.”

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 3 years

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25th December >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 2:1-14 for The Feast of Christmas: ‘Today in the town of David, a Saviour has been born to you’.

Feast of Christmas Night and Day

Gospel (Except USA)

Luke 2:1-14

'In the town of David a saviour has been born to you'

Caesar Augustus issued a decree for a census of the whole world to be taken. This census – the first – took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria, and everyone went to his own town to be registered. So Joseph set out from the town of Nazareth in Galilee and travelled up to Judaea, to the town of David called Bethlehem, since he was of David’s House and line, in order to be registered together with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. While they were there the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to a son, her first born. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger because there was no room for them at the inn. In the countryside close by there were shepherds who lived in the fields and took it in turns to watch their flocks during the night. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone round them. They were terrified, but the angel said, ‘Do not be afraid. Listen, I bring you news of great joy, a joy to be shared by the whole people. Today in the town of David a saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. And here is a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.’ And suddenly with the angel there was a great throng of the heavenly host, praising God and singing:

‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace to men who enjoy his favour.’

Gospel (USA)

Luke 2:1–14

Today a Savior has been born for you.

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that the whole world should be enrolled. This was the first enrollment, when Quirinius was governor of Syria. So all went to be enrolled, each to his own town. And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and family of David, to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child. While they were there, the time came for her to have her child, and she gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear. The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying:

“Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

Reflections (7)

(i) Feast of Christmas

Every year on Christmas night we listen to the Christmas story from the gospels. Each year the story we hear is the same, but each year we are different. Something will have changed for us since last Christmas. For many people, a lot will have changed in the past twelve months due to the onset of a pandemic we never foresaw last Christmas and is very much still with us, as we face into level 5 restrictions again. Many people may be feeling more despondent and anxious. Some will have experienced a level of isolation that they had never knows before. For many, their work situation is much less secure than it was. We sense that many of us are more on edge. Those for whom life has always been a struggle have been finding it much more of a struggle. As individuals, as communities, we come to this Christmas somewhat more stressed and bruised than normal. Because it has been a darker year for many, the opening line of today’s first reading can resonate all the more with us, ‘the people that walked in darkness has seen a great light’. This Christmas, as we continue to walk in the darkness of this pandemic, we are invited to open ourselves up to the great light of the birth of Jesus.

The Christmas story speaks to us of a light that shines in the darkness and that the darkness cannot overcome. The story of the birth of Jesus is told as a night time event in which a great light shines. The shepherds were watching their flocks during the night, when the glory of the Lord shone around them. This light of God’s presence did not eliminate the darkness, but it shone in the midst of it. I am reminded of that lovely hymn written by John Henry Newman, ‘Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom’. The feast of Christmas celebrates the shining of God’s kindly light in the midst of the gloom in which we often find ourselves. The writer Dostoevsky once wrote, ‘We grope as though in the dark… but for the precious image of Christ before us, we would lose our way’. God’s kindly light shone in the face of Jesus that night in Bethlehem and it continues to shine for each one of us this Christmas, wherever we happen to find ourselves. Each of our lives has its own personal drama but tonight we are invited to let ourselves be drawn into a drama that is larger than our own, the drama of God’s loving relationship with us.

The child that was born to Mary and Joseph has been born to each one of us. In the words of the angels to the shepherds, ‘Today, in the town of David, a saviour has been born to you’. Each one of us is included in that ‘to you’. That is why the birth of the one who was born homeless can be celebrated in every home. The one born of Mary wants to make his home in each of our lives, this Christmas and throughout the coming year. The birth of Jesus reveals God’s desire to draw close to us. When Mary and Joseph looked upon their child, they were looking upon the human face of God. When we look upon this child, when we look upon the adult Jesus in the gospels, the crucified Jesus on the cross, we are looking at the human face of God. Through this child, who became the adult of the gospels, and, eventually the risen Lord of the church, God is embracing us in love. That is what Saint Paul means when he says at the beginning of today’s second reading, ‘God’s grace has been revealed’. God’s gracious love has been revealed, a love that accepts us as we are, without any merit on our part. God’s Son, born of Mary and Joseph, loudly proclaims that we are all beloved sons and daughters of God. However difficult or complicated the drama of our own life story may be, Christmas is a moment when God calls out to us to accept his loving embrace of us, through his Son. Graced by God’s love, we will be empowered to love ourselves, and to love others, the whole human family. Not only do we celebrate at Christmas God’s desire to draw close to us, but Christmas can bring each of us closer to God. As the humble shepherds and the sophisticated magi were both drawn to the stable in Bethlehem, we too can find ourselves drawn to the God who loves us so much that he became as vulnerable as a new born child for our sakes.

In speaking to the shepherds, the angels describe their message about the birth of a saviour as ‘news of great joy’. God wants each of us to find joy in being unconditionally loved. There may not have been much joy for many people in the year just past. Some will be grieving the recent death of a loved one. Many may be struggling in some version of the ‘encircling gloom’ that Newman speaks of. Yet, at a deeper level of our being, we can experience the joy which is the fruit of the Spirit of God’s love. It is the joy which flows from knowing that the kindly light of God’s gracious love, the light of Bethlehem, is always shining upon us. This kindly light is our ultimate destiny; we are journeying towards it, but it is also our constant companion.

And/Or

(ii) Feast of Christmas Day

I would like on your behalf to congratulate the children on the wonderful way that they acted out the Christmas story. I am always struck by how easily children enter into the Christmas story and how well they announce it to us all. Perhaps that is because at the centre of the Christmas story is a family - a mother, a father and their child – not unlike the children’s own families. Many of the children will have baby brothers and sisters, and they can relate easily to the baby who is the very heart of the Christmas story.

The word ‘God’ can suggest someone remote, very far above us, somewhat inaccessible. However, there is nothing more accessible than a new born baby. Everyone wants to get close to a new born baby. They exert a certain fascination on all of us. We look at this new bundle of life, mesmerized. The parents who are here this morning know that better than I do. Christmas celebrates the extraordinary good news that the new born child of Mary and Joseph is God - God-with-us, Emmanuel. Those who looked into the eyes of this child were looking into the eyes of God. It is hard to imagine how God could have become more accessible to us than by taking the form of a new born child. If God wanted to draw close to us, to engage us, to draw us into relationship, this was a very good way to do it. In Jesus, the first born child of Mary and Joseph, God became vulnerable, accessible, engaging.

Perhaps that is why the feast of Christmas continues to engage us at the more spiritual level of our make up. Yes, Christmas has become overly commercialized. We all spend more than we need to; if we are not careful we can easily go overboard. Yet, the numbers who come to church on Christmas day are always well up on other times of the year. God who reached out to us through a new born babe continues to draw us at this time of the year. It somehow feels right to come to church on this day of all days. It is as if we sense, at some level, that if God has gone to such lengths to connect with us, the least we can do is attempt to connect with God. Like the shepherds in today’s gospel reading, we hear the call to come to the crib. On reaching it, we are invited to let our eyes and our minds roam free as we ponder the wonderful mystery of Jesus’ birth, the mystery of Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Mary and Joseph’s child, of course, became an adult, a vigorous young man who placed his life’s energy at the disposal of God the Father for the service of all men and woman. As the adult Jesus went on to say, ‘the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many’. He gave his life for us all, and, having been raised from the dead, he continues to give himself to us all. Indeed, at this Eucharist which we now celebrate, the risen Lord gives himself to each of us as the bread of life. We come here on this Christmas morning not only to ponder the image of the child Jesus in the crib, but to receive into our lives in the Eucharist the glorious and risen adult Jesus. He calls us who are adults into an adult relationship with him. He says to us what he said to his disciples on the night before he died, ‘I no longer call your servants, I call you friends’. He waits for us to reciprocate, to befriend him as he has befriended us, to reach out towards him as he has reached out towards us, to accept him as our companion on our life’s way.

The second reading this morning speaks of God’s Son as ‘the radiant light of God’s glory’. When John the evangelist wanted to express the mystery of this feast of Christmas, he wrote: ‘A light… shines in the darkness, a light that darkness could not overpower’. The adult Jesus spoke of himself as the light of the world and promised that those who follow him will never walk in darkness. Many of us today experience a sense of darkness in one form of another. It might be the darkness of depression, of illness, of a broken relationship, of a deep loss, or the darkness that envelopes us when we look at all that is not right with our world. At Christmas we celebrate the coming of Jesus as light into our darkness. On this Christmas morning, we might make our own that wonderful prayer of John Henry Newman, a great scholar and writer of the 19th century, an Anglican who became a Roman Catholic, a prayer addressed to the risen Jesus as light in our darkness: ‘Lead kindly light amid the encircling gloom, lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, lead Thou me on. I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me’.

And/Or

(iii) Feast of Christmas Day

There has been quite a bit of bad news in recent times. We know the economy has taken a serious downturn and many people who had jobs last Christmas don’t have jobs this Christmas. The future is more uncertain for many people than it might have been this time last year. We have also heard news of murders in broad daylight at either end of our parish here in Clontarf. For those who have been affected by those murders this Christmas will be an ordeal. There has been bad news for the church this Christmas, as well, with the recent report on Cloyne Diocese.

Today’s feast sends a ray of light into the doom and gloom. The first line of this morning’s first reading sets the tone for the feast, ‘How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of one who brings good news’. What is this good news, according to that reading? It is the good news that the Lord is returning to Zion and consoling his people and that all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God. As Christians we recognize the fulfilment of that promise of good news in the birth of Jesus who is both the son of Mary and Joseph, and Son of God. On that first Christmas night, a child was born for us, a son was given to us, who brought God to us in a way that no human being ever did before or since. In bringing God to us with such clarity, he showed the name of that God to be love. In his gospel St John would put it very succinctly, ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only Son’. That is why we have cribs in our churches and in our homes at this time of the year, to remind us of that good news. Children can get more excited by good news than us adults. We are often more attuned to bad news. It can be the open-eyed wonder of children before the crib that helps all of us to hear and be touched by the good news that is at the heart of today’s feast. The adult Jesus would go on to say, ‘unless you become like little children you will not enter the kingdom of God’.

The gospel reading we have just heard acknowledges the reality of the darkness in our world, and yet it also announces the good news that there is a more fundamental reality enveloping us, which the reading simply refers to as ‘light’. ‘A light shines in the darkness, a light that darkness could not overpower’. That reading reassures us that no matter how dark things may appear to be in our own personal lives, in the lives of our family, in the life of our church, in the life of our nation, there is a light shining there, a light that is stronger than the darkness and that is destined to overcome the darkness. The gospel reading for Christmas morning invites us to ask the question, ‘Where is the light in our darkness?’ It encourages us to search for the light, because it is there. The reading speaks of this light as the true light, and it then identifies this true light with the Word of God who became flesh and was given the name Jesus. We come to the crib at this time of the year because we are drawn by the light that shines in the darkness, and deep down we are convinced that the darkness will not overcome this light. What is this light? It is ultimately the light of love, the light of God’s love. In the New Testament, there are two three word statements identifying who God is, and they are both to be found in the first letter of Saint John, ‘God is light’, and ‘God is love’. The gospel reading assures us that God’s love is always shining in whatever darkness we may find ourselves, and because genuine love is always life-giving, and God’s love is infinitely life-giving, at the heart of all darkness we will find not only light but also new life. In the words of our gospel reading, ‘that life was the light of all’. God works in life-giving ways even in situations that appear to be hopeless. Even when human beings threw God’s gift of his Son back in his face by crucifying his Son, God turned that to our good, by raising his Son from the dead and giving him to us as a light that endures forever. In the words of the second reading, the risen Lord ‘is the radiant light of God’s glory’. The light of God’s love for us simply cannot be extinguished. Paul put that very simply and very profoundly when he declared that nothing ‘will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord’. That is why we celebrate Christmas the way we do. The gifts we give to each other remind us of the greater gift of God’s Son that we rejoice in at this time of the year; the candles we light, the lights we turn on, remind us of the light of God’s love which shines brightly even when darkness seems to be triumphing, the visits we make to each other remind us of that great visitation of God to his people through his Son. We can allow ourselves to be happy in these days, because we have something to be happy about.

And/Or

(iv) Feast of Christmas Night

We don’t often gather here in our parish church so late in the evening, at 9.00 pm. There are only two times in the year when we do that, on Christmas night and at the Easter Vigil. On those two nights we gather to celebrate the birth of Jesus and the resurrection of Jesus, the beginning and end of the story of Jesus as we find it in the gospels. On both occasions we gather in darkness, at night time. The story of the birth of Jesus which we have just heard is told by Luke as a night time event. It was while the shepherds were watching their flocks by night that the angels appeared to them and proclaimed the good news of a wonderful event that had just taken place, ‘a Saviour has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord’. It is that same good news that is proclaimed to us tonight and that brings us together in this church long after the sun has set, at a time when we would normally be thinking about winding down for the day and getting ready for bed.

As we gather in the darkness, we celebrate this feast of Christmas with candles and lights. The five candles on the Advent wreath, including the white one for the feast of Christmas, are all lighting; the lights of the Christmas tree are on. There was a tradition in the past of a candle being lit in the widow of our homes on this night. Christmas is a feast of light. In the wonderful opening words of our first reading tonight, ‘the people that walked in darkness has seen a great light; on those who live in a land of deep shadow a light has shone’. The child whose birth we celebrate tonight is the light of God’s love shining upon us. This light does not eliminate the darkness but it shines brightly within in. As Saint John says at the beginning of his gospel, ‘the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it’. We each have our own share of darkness, and for each of us the darkness is different. For some, this time of the year can accentuate the darkness. The loneliness of the bereaved and the isolated can be felt more sharply at this time of the year. Whatever darkness we may find ourselves in this Christmas, we are invited this night to allow ourselves to be bathed in the light of that wonderful news that the angels announced to the shepherds, ‘Today, in the town of Bethlehem, a Saviour has been born to you’ – to you, to each of us personally. In the mystery of a new born baby lying in a manger, a feeding trough for animals, we are being reminded that God is breathing his Spirit into the darkness of our lives.

The child of Bethlehem is God’s gift to humanity, to each one of us. We give gifts to each other at this time of the year. It is as if deep down we realize that we have been greatly gifted or graced, and we want to give out of what we have received. Because of this night, we have each been wonderfully graced by God. In the opening words of tonight’s second reading, ‘God’s grace has been revealed’. A genuine gift is not something we have worked for or have earned or deserved. It is simply give to us out of love, and all that is asked of us is that we receive the gift and the love that it expresses. Jesus is God’s greatest gift to us. God does not ask us to earn or work for this gift. In the child of Bethlehem, God accepts us as we are and loves us without any merit on our part. All that God asks of us is that we receive this gift of his Son in faith and then to live out of the gift we have received. God desperately wants us to receive this gift because it is the gift of life. Jesus is the life-giver, given to us so that we can live fully human lives in this earthly life, and enter into eternal life beyond this earthly life.

Sometimes giving can come easier to us than receiving. Many of us can find it easier to give than to receive. This feast of Christmas requires us to fine tune our capacity to receive, especially to receive from God. If we struggle to receive from others, we can struggle even more to receive from God, because we can image God as one who is constantly looking to receive from us. Yet, tonight’s feast reminds us that the initiative is always with God. In the words of the first letter of Saint John, ‘God first loved us’. Tonight we are called to have something of the openness of the shepherds to God’s gift. We are invited to go with them to the manger and to welcome this extraordinary grace into our lives. We find it easy to receive a new born child. We delight in taking the child into our arms. Perhaps God was making it easy for us to receive his love by immersing himself in the tiny, fragile flesh of a new born child. If this is how God has chosen to approach us, it may be saying something about how God wants to be approached by us. We come close to God in the way we come close to a child, gently and noiselessly, with no solemn talk but only plains words coming from a graced and grateful heart.

And/Or

(v) Feast of Christmas Night

It is striking the efforts people make to get home for Christmas. Christmas is a feast that moves people to get back to their roots. It draws people to make contact with those who have helped to shape and form them. The feast of Christmas seems to have the power to bring us back to basics as it were. A striking example of that was to be found among the trenches near Armentieres on Christmas Day 1914. A twenty-five year old Lieutenant wrote a letter home in which he said: ‘Detachments of British and Germans formed a line and a German and British chaplain read some prayers alternately. The whole of this was done in great solemnity and reverence’. Here were sworn enemies fighting a bitter war. But, they also knew that at a much more basic level, they were fellow human beings, who had been equally graced by the birth of God’s Son. The feast of that day helped those men to see each other with new eyes. They beheld each other in a new light, the light of God’s love revealed in the birth of his Son. It is hard to conceive of any other Christian feast, or indeed the feast of any other religion, having that kind of power.

The feast of Christmas can touch all our lives in an equally powerful way. We are not at war with others in the way those soldiers were at war with each other on that Christmas day almost 90 years ago. Yet, we might find ourselves coming to this feast of Christmas battered and bruised in various ways. Some of us here today may have come through, or be in the midst of, a painful experience of one kind or another. We may be embroiled in some form of conflict that leaves us drained. We may have suffered some significant loss in recent months. Some hope we cherished may not have materialized. Our health may have deteriorated. Our faith may have grown weak. We may be troubled by some wrong we did or some good we failed to do. What may be true of any one of us as individuals is true of our church. The church comes to this Christmas somewhat battered and bruised. The damage done by some priests to young children, and the failure of our bishops to deal with this situation adequately has affected us all.

Wherever and however we find ourselves this Christmas, today’s feast invites us to look up, as it were, with the shepherds in the gospel reading. We hear for ourselves the words the shepherds heard: ‘Do not be afraid. Listen, I bring you news of great joy, a joy to be shared by the whole people. Today a saviour has been born to you’. A child has been born for all of us, whoever we are, whatever situation we find ourselves in. The birth of a child is a wonderful time for any family, a time of grace. Today we celebrate a birth that has graced us all, and continues to grace us all. The child of Mary and Joseph reveals the kindness and love of God for us all. God has given us the gift of his Son, and, having given this gift, God will never take it back. God’s Son has become our brother, our companion on the way, becoming like us in all things, but sin. God has become flesh and dwelt, and continues to dwell, among us. God’s Son who dwells among us invites us to receive from his fullness, grace upon grace. In receiving from him in this way, we are empowered to rise above all that oppresses us and diminishes us. Here is a wonderful gift that calls us out of our trenches, as it were, and has the potential to transform how we see ourselves and each other.

Christmas is a feast of light. It is celebrated just as the days begin to get longer. Within our own tradition we have recognized this dimension of the feast of Christmas, with our custom of lighting candles and placing them in front of the windows of our homes. At Christmas we celebrate the coming into the world of the true light who enlightens everyone. The glory of the Lord shone around the shepherds and shines around all of us. We are invited to stand under that light, the light of God’s favour, and to allow that light to fill us and renew us. We are not asked to do anything to make this light shine. It is there; it is given to us. We are only asked to receive it and to become the light that we receive. The feast of Christmas assures us that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome it. God has graced us in a very definitive way, and God’s gracious presence to us is a more fundamental reality than the darkness in which we find ourselves and which we sometimes help to create. This is the good news of great joy that was given to the shepherds on that first Christmas night and that is given to us today. It is this good news that is at the heart of all our Christmas celebrations.

And/Or

(vi) Feast of Christmas Night

It is lovely to see so many people here in our parish church tonight. Apart from the Easter Vigil this is the only time we gather in church at nine o’clock at night. We are here because we want to be here. We feel drawn to join in the celebration of the Eucharist on this night above all nights. Our gathering together in church tonight as brothers and sisters in the Lord is one example of the gatherings that Christmas seems to inspire among us. In all kinds of ways we gather at Christmas time. People make a special effort to gather with their families at Christmas; our airports and ports and roads are exceptionally busy. All kinds of other gatherings happen at this time. In our own parish recently members of the hospitality group gathered the senior members of the parish community for a Christmas party in the parish centre. Tomorrow there will be a great gathering of Dublin’s poor and homeless in the Mansion House for a Christmas dinner. People tend to be very sensitive to those living on their own at this time of the year and often make a special effort to include them in some Christmas gathering or other. Instinctively we seem to make a special effort to include each other, at this time of the year. We may even go out of our way to connect with those from whom we have become estranged for one reason or another.

Our particular gathering in this church springs from our faith in Jesus, whom tonight’s gospel reading speaks of as Saviour and Christ the Lord. We could be somewhere else at this time, but we are here and our presence here in this gathering is an expression of our faith. At times, we may feel that our faith in the Lord is not very strong. We may identify very easily with the prayer that the disciples once addressed to Jesus, ‘Lord, increase our faith’, or with the prayer of the father who approached Jesus to heal his son, ‘Lord, I believe, help my unbelief’. None of us would feel a stranger to those prayers. Yet, it is our shared faith in Jesus that has brought us here this Christmas night. We want to celebrate the birth of someone who has become significant for us, and we want to celebrate this birth not just on our own but with others for whom this particular birth is also significant. We gather because we recognize that the birth of this child in a stable at Bethlehem is good news for us all. The angel announced to the shepherds in tonight’s gospel reading, ‘Listen, I bring you news of great joy, a joy to be shared by the whole people’. The birth of this child was not just good news for a select few, but for the whole people, for everyone without exception. The impact of the birth of any child into a family will be felt by that family into eternity. The impact of the birth of this child will be felt by the whole people into eternity. We gather to savour this good news which is addressed to all of us and to each one of us personally. There is no shortage of bad news these days. Tonight we gather in faith to allow some truly good news to wash over us and renew us.

Faith is always a response to God’s initiative. Tonight we gather in response to the extraordinary initiative that God took to enter into communion with the whole of humanity. God entered into communion with us by becoming one of us. The Word who was God became flesh and dwelt among us. It is God’s initiative to become flesh for our sakes that gathers us here in this church tonight. God became vulnerable in Mary’s child. God took the risk of becoming vulnerable so as to enter into a deeper communion with us all, and it was a risk. The vulnerable child who was born outside of Bethlehem went on to become the vulnerable adult who was crucified outside of Jerusalem. In between his birth and death as an outsider he spoke of himself as the Son of Man who had nowhere to lay his head. According to the letter to the Hebrews, he was like us in all things, but sin. God loves us enough to take the risk of entering into the deepest possible communion with us through his Son, Jesus. We are here this evening because, at some level of our being, we recognize the lengths God has gone to enter into our experience and we want to respond to God’s gracious initiative towards us. We want to be in communion with God through Jesus, in response to God’s desire to be in communion with us through Jesus. It has been said that the birth of every child is a small protest against the tired view that there is nothing new under the sun. The birth of the child we celebrate this night is a very large protest against such a view. Jesus spoke of his life and ministry as new wine. Tonight we are invited to drink of that new wine. As we do so we will hear the call to be as generous in our dealings with each other as God has been with us. In the words of tonight’s second reading, this Christmas feast calls on us to have no ambition except to do good.

And/Or

(vii) Feast of Christmas Night

One of the verses in Patrick Kavanagh’s well-known poem, ‘A Christmas Childhood’, goes as follows, ‘A water-hen screeched in the bog, Mass-going feet Crunched the wafer-ice on the pot-holes, Somebody wistfully twisted the bellows wheel’. It was a poem that was born of loneliness and solitude. He penned it after spending a lonely Christmas in his flat in Dublin. He nostalgically looks back at the Christmases of his childhood in his native Monaghan. Christmas can be a lonely time for many people, those living alone, those who have been recently bereaved, those living far from home. Kavanagh’s loneliness that Christmas turned out to be a truly generative and creative moment for him.

I was struck by the line in that verse, ‘Mass-going feet crunched the wafer-thin ice on the pot-holes’. I fond it very evocative. There may be less ‘Mass-going feet’ these days that there was when Patrick Kavanagh penned ‘A Christmas Childhood’. Yet, there is something about the feast of Christmas that brings people to Mass, especially on Christmas night. Christmas is a time when we feel the need to gather in various ways. Within our families we gather in each other’s homes, around each other’s tables. We gather with friends. Some of you will have been involved in organizing different kinds of gatherings in the past few weeks, such as the gathering of the senior members of our parish community we had recently in our parish centre. Many also feel the need to gather in church at this time, alongside others who are trying to follow in the way of the One whose birth we celebrate tonight.

Tonight’s gospel reading begins with a reference to a decree of the first Roman Emperor, Caesar Augustus, for a census throughout his Empire, and it concludes with a heavenly host of angels praising God and announcing to some shepherds that God’s favour was resting on all men and women. The birth of Jesus was overshadowed both by the presence of the Roman Emperor and the presence of heavenly angels. It was rooted in history and, yet, somehow beyond it. It happened at a particular time and place in human history, and, yet, it transcended that historical time and place. This child was born to a particular young couple, Mary and Joseph, in a small town on the margins of the Roman Empire, and yet he was also born to everyone in every generation and place. As Saint Paul puts it in tonight’s second reading, ‘God’s grace has been revealed, and it has made salvation possible for the whole human race’. The birth of this child reveals God’s gracious love for all humanity. The birth of a child to a young couple in the town of Bethlehem that night would impact the whole human race for every succeeding generation, down to our own time. The birth of Jesus has, in some way, touched all of our lives, which is why we have gathered together here in this parish church on this Christmas night, why we are happy to belong among those Mass-going feet.

Because of the birth of this child to Mary and Joseph in Bethlehem, we have all been greatly graced. God has given us the most precious gift he could give us, the gift of Jesus, the son of Mary and Joseph, but also God’s own Son. In coming among us through his Son, God has, in a sense, become one of us. God has taken the shape of a human life, and in doing so God has shown what a human life at its best looks like, what it is to be fully human. Jesus reveals ourselves to us. He also reveals God to us. The son of Mary and Joseph allows us to put a human face on God. There was a strong conviction in the Jewish Scriptures that people could not see God and live. Because God was so transcendent, so other, to see God was to die. Yet, through Jesus, God has become visible to us. When we look upon the face of God in Jesus, what we see is a face of love. That is why the message of the angel to the shepherds was, ‘Do not be afraid. Listen I bring you news of great joy’. Joy, not fear, is to characterize our relationship with God. In the words of the heavenly choir of angels at the end of the gospel reading, the birth of Jesus reveals God’s favour towards us, ‘Peace to all who enjoy God’s favour’.

Perhaps one of the reasons we are happy to be among the Mass-going feet at Christmas time is that we sense that God has greatly favoured us through the birth of Jesus and his subsequent life, death and resurrection, and we want to respond in some way. God has graciously favoured us, without asking us to earn that favour. ‘God’s grace has been revealed’, in the words of Paul in the second reading. We are here tonight to acknowledge that God continues to favour and grace us through his Son and to give thanks to God for God’s favour. It is a night to allow ourselves to receive afresh God’s favour, to open our hearts anew to the light of God’s loving presence in Jesus, so that it penetrates whatever darkness we may find ourselves it. Christmas is the feast of God’s closeness. It is a feast that can bring us closer to God. Tonight we are invited to allow that to happen for us.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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meanwhileinthebroomcloset · 5 years

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Mhm... This post was meant to be much shorter, honestly. Not to mention it got super personal, which was not my intention. It actually made me a bit teary-eyed and I’m usually an emotional constipated dumbass.

Am I ready for the potential backlash this is going to cause? Eh, probably not. Am I going to engage in the discourse this can cause? Ah, you wished. I have more to waste my energy on. I didn’t write this post to argument with anyone, anyway.

Gonna risk it, still.

-----------------------------------------

Isn’t it kind of ironic that it was witchcraft that made me fully return to Catholicism?

I mean, I kind of never left, hence the ‘’fully’’ in that sentence. But now I really know who I am. Although I don’t think Catholicism is the most accurate label (Christo-pagan, perhaps?) it’s the one I grew up with, and the one that comes more naturally to me.

Studying the beginning of it all, the commentaries of Pagans and Jewish writers at the time are just so fascinating and honestly beautiful.

Then everybody started chasing and killing each order, and it sure wasn’t fascinating anymore.... ‘’Stop being murderous revenge-driven assholes’’ I angrily mutter into my book, while frying my brains for High Middle Ages exams.

And then it split into Catholicism and Arianism (not that Arianism! The no-holy-trinity-on-my-watch one), and that was a totally different can of worms. Then Rome got pissy and the Orthodox Church officially became a thing that existed.

Man, why is religion so messy?

Faith is such a strange thing. So much power, so much potential for good and evil and everything in between. I started losing mine some years ago.

Contrary to some horror stories you may hear, especially from people who are now no longer Christian, I was raised in a pretty open environment.

‘’Don’t be mean, have faith, give second chances... Here are the commandments. They’re perfectly acceptable, see?’’

‘’Yes, there are different religions, but you should always respect them and the people that believe in them. Remember, Jesus was Jewish. Here’s some historical context... ‘’

‘’What the hell kid, nobody here is going to hell. Also, you’re five, there are no children in hell. No, the cops also won’t... Lord give me patience... Are you sorry? Did you apologize? Are you going to try to not repeat it? Great! Then it’s all fine and dandy!’’

‘‘Man, we are definitely all going to hell... At least since we’re all gonna be there, we could form a basketball team. The devil can be the referee. He will be an awful one, but hey, we’re in hell’‘

‘’I know the bible says the earth was created in seven days, but when that story was written, people didn’t know dinosaurs were a thing. Science is cool, and we are not in the middle ages. ‘’

‘’Blind faith is dangerous, kid.’’

‘’Thinking thoughts and acting upon them are two very different things.’’

‘’Yes, the second mom in that Solomon story was willing to see another kid die for the sake of an argument... sometimes people are that bad.’’

‘’God is perfect. People aren’t. That’s the world we live in and it’s okay.’’

‘’There are people who do terrible things in name of religion or say they’re doing it because the bible says so. Don’t believe them. There’s no excuse for murder and abuse.’’

‘’Yeah, Portugal is very enthusiastic when it comes to Catholicism... ’’

Pretty good summary of religion in my childhood.

Still, I found my faith waning. I didn’t really know why and I’m still a bit iffy talking about that.

‘’What did witchcraft do, then?’’

Well for once, it reinforced my ideas on how faith worked, and how strangely powerful it can be. Being skeptical is healthy but completely closing yourself off because something isn’t completely clear is too radical and you're just doing the equivalent of closing your eyes to the less brighter lights.

My god, I can hear the hardcore atheists coming...

Can I remind you there are more things in life that will not provide the proof you want, but that won’t mean they aren’t there? Relationships. Relationships are too complicated to have straight answers, a lot of the times. People hide their feelings, they fake them, express them and react to them differently. There are so many things we don’t understand or know about yet, like space and organisms that live on this Earth.

Sometimes what you need is a different approach to see they exist! It’s one of the things I learned with witchcraft.

There was also the religion itself. As I worked on my magic, I started seeing magic around me again. Not just with gods I had never considered and the one I was leaving behind, but with the faith I had always known.

The affection when someone says ‘’Our Lady’’ when talking about the Virgin Mary, my family calling upon Saint Barbara when thunder comes, children screeching excitedly because the Compasso has arrived to give us the news that Jesus has come to life again in Easter, the marble cemeteries, the comforting prayers, the masses I couldn’t ear because the local church’s echo is terrible, those boring long-ass weddings (oh my god, how many blessings do two people need?!), the loving dedication I see in every saint carved, my church's priest’s good humor... I never owned a rosary, but I always like the ones my aunts and grandparents keep.

I found Christian and Catholic witches on this site and I finally got to my conclusion. It’s really there. I just needed a different approach to it!

These things made me believe again, but also in new things.

‘‘But you can’t do that! You can’t combine magic and christianity’‘

Oh, watch me. And also watch the centuries of cunning women and witches in European history and those still alive today. The women that make ‘’mezinhas’’ and other types of favors in Portugal sure as hell are doing witchcraft, but you can bet your ass they don’t think they’re any less Catholic than anyone else. They don’t care about your opinions and I will hopefully do the same.

Relationships with deities are personal, and my relationship with God, Jesus and all of them is no different in that regard. I am a witch, I am human, I am catholic. I’m a follower, not a fucking mindless sheep.

You know what? I always compared God to Aslan. The lion wasn’t always there for Narnia, he wanted his people to solve their problems on their own. Get their independence, as a good parent does. They both don’t come up all mighty, that’s a posture reserved for evil and people who need a good slap in the face. They come to your level. God may come through one of the less eldritch abomination looking angels, though...

‘‘Well, if you have god, you shouldn’t need anything more. He's everthing. Why are you also a witch?’‘

Excuse me, do I look like a goddamned saint to you?! What part of human did you not understand?

And before you bitterly start quoting the Old Testament, let me remind you that it’s Old for a reason. Christ came to this earth to give us new rules since he technically saved us and things became different. That’s why Jewish people follow the Old Testament, for them, the messiah hasn’t arrived yet. Not to mention that to them that testament is not Old, it’s just the Torah.

You can keep quoting the bible to me all you want. But in my short twenty years of life, I was thankfully able to learn a few things. One of them is that the world isn’t black and white. Yes, I know this sounds obvious but there are some really dumb people out there. Also, this is the hellscape that we call tumblr.

Anyway, as I have mentioned several times before, I’m a never-ending knowledge seeker I found the world beneath my feet is not pure myth and I want to explore it. Look at me go.

I keep a critical mind with everything. Faith and religion are not an exception. I’m not overly skeptic about faith itself, but I am of its writings, interpretations, translations and etc... I study history, it’s a skill you naturally develop.

And there’s quite a few plot-holes, characterization differences and much more. It was written by humans that couldn’t do a cohesive collaboration even if their lives depended on it. Godphones sometimes don’t get a good reception. There’s a ton of cultural context to unpack. I hear people saying all the time that taking the bible’s words literally is one of the most stupid things you can do.

And when I say people, I mean priests, clergy, theology students, etc... I didn’t hear this from my drug dealer in the street corner..

...... I don’t have a drug dealer.....

Anyway...

There are many problems with the catholic church. There are many problems with a ton of catholic and christians out there. I will never deny that. Shit needs to get fixed and maybe even chucked into the trash.

But I still believe in God, I still believe in the saints but I also still believe there are more gods and spirits out there. And those things are separate.

I have no interest in converting you. I’m just yelling into the void.

If you are one of those that no longer is a christian, or catholic because some dipshits banged self-hate onto your head, I’m really sorry. I hope you heal well and get the help you need in your new faith or lack of it. Banging the ten commandments back onto their heads repetiedly and tell them to actually read the damn book is optional, though.

In the end, if you are (or are trying) to be good, you deserve respect and freedom to worship whoever or whatever you want. You don’t need to be perfect, you can just strive to be the best you can be in your situation.

--------------------------------------------

And now back to our schedueled programing.

#well #that was a thing #rant #christian witch #catholic witch

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marissapugliese · 4 years

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Paper 3

Life and Wedding Rituals

The culture of my family is Italian. My mother’s parents were born and raised in Sicily, Italy while my father's parents were born and raised in Calabria, Italy. My mother has two sisters who were both born in Italy as well. My mother was the first and last child that was born in America. My father and his younger brother were both born in America as well. Both my mother and father are the first generation of Italian-American in their families. Both of my parents' first languages were italian, and second english. They were both raised with an Italian mentality. The mentality of italians is to put family life over everything. You are to always stay loyal to your family, and remain close. Italian was both of their first languages as children and learned English as well. My parents were grown up with similar traditional beliefs, values, and lifestyles that stemmed from their parents (my nonni), and generations prior.

My mother and father met in their mid twenties, in Brooklyn where they both have lived all their lives. They were introduced to each other by mutual friends. My grandparents were pleased with both my mother and fathers and their choice to get married. They both came from families that had followed similar italian lifestyles. Although my family did have a preference that my parents get married to a person with the same culture, it was not required. Today my parents have the same preferences for me. I am more attracted to italian men in regards to getting romantically involved with. I tend to look for a partner who has grown up with the same traditional values as myself. Arranged marriages in Italy are no longer practiced for most families. Recently as I was having a conversation with my nonna she had told me that her parents brothers and sisters did end up in incestral marriages with their first or second cousins. We had this conversation when my third cousin Francesco was immigrating to America with his family. My nonna went on and on in conversation about how handsome he was and was speaking to her granddaughters with the intention of potentially setting us up. We all looked at her as if she was absolutely insane but incestory was something that was normal in Italy years and years ago but is something that sounds so absurd today. My mother’s sisters and father's brother had also been able to marry who they wanted, and it just so happened they had come from an italian cultured background as well. It just so happens that you sway to what you know. A couple years ago my cousin Frankie who was twenty-one at the time got his girlfriend pregnant. Both of the families including my cousin and his girlfriend agreed to keep the baby which turned out to be babies (twins). They were both brought up in families that were extremely faithful. In my family and the catholic religion it is traditional to get married before having sex (which has faded away over generations) and having children. Basically, the couple was together for 5 years prior to this happening but decided to have a shotgun wedding before the babies had arrived. It made their family members happy and it felt like the right thing to do morally. When my parents got married their lives and resources had merged together. After years of being in a relationship and in marriage, they shared a house, a bank account, level of their education. Many people in marriages do not share everything with their partner. Especially in today's society many keep separate accounts or any other independent resources they may have. My mother and father share almost everything, unlike their best friends who keep their money and spend separately.

My mother and father were treated as family on each of their sides. My mother refers to my dad's mother as mama, and his father papa, and vice versa. They are both extremely close to their inlaws, and both sets of my grandparents are close to each other as well. My nonno on both my mother and father's side were extremely close and had passed away a day after each other in the same year. My nonnas are still alive today and enjoy each other's company in and out of the family kitchen. My nonna rosa who is my father's mother is extremely close to my mother's side as a whole as well. My parents, and their siblings have raised myself, my brother, and my cousins in the same traditional way they had grown up. As I stated earlier, my mothers and fathers family are both from Italy but come from different towns or cities. My aunts and uncles share the same situation. Although there are different parts of italy, most lifestyles are similar. Italian values include spending lots of time with family, religion and maintaining Catholic traditions, and pleasurable meals prepared with dedication and most importantly love. As a child I was always surrounded by family, and was fortunate for that. Unfortunately, my dad's brother and his family live in Long Island so we only see them a few times a year. Most of my family on my maternal side live in the same neighborhood as me, one across the street on the same block, and one a couple blocks away. The rest do not live far maybe 10-20 minutes away. Since we all live so close we tend to see each other often. My maternal cousins and I even attended some of the same schools. I don’t consider them to be my cousins. I consider them to be brothers and sisters to myself. My mother and her cousins are extremely close and were raised on the same block which allowed them to have a sister or brother relationship with them as well. I refer to most of my mother's cousins as aunt or uncle because of the close relationship. Their children who are technically my second cousins are just as closed to myself as my first cousins are to me as well.

I do believe other cultures are close with their families as well, but the Italians idolize this in their families. Another important value in my italian family is religion. Almost ninety percent of Italians are catholic. My family is included in that ninety percent. Traditionally a good catholic would be one who goes to church weekly, prays, receives sacraments, respects others, follows the ten commandments, and has faith. Today it is extremely difficult to get to church every week so my immediate family tends to attend on religious holidays. Italian families tend to share an early dinner once a week with their families which catholicism is still provided in a moral structure. There are many patron saint days that Italian families celebrate. A popular saint day for Italians is on March 19th, Saint Joseph's day. A feast takes place in Italy that honors Joseph, husband to the Virgin Mary and earthly father to Jesus. It is also the day in which Italy celebrates Father's Day. And if your name is Joseph or Josephine, you will also be celebrating your “onomastico.” Since my family is living here in America, there is a traditional pastry we get every year on Saint Joseph's day. Italian tables are filled with fig dishes, including fig cookies, zeppoles, or sfinge dough fritters covered with powdered sugar as well. We celebrate with pastries because Saint Joseph is also referred to the saint of pastries. Every Sunday my family makes it a point to gather for an early evening dinner that is also a tradition in Italy. My grandparents made sure it was essential no matter how busy the family got.. There are three portions of this dinner, antipasto, primo corso, and secondo corso. Antipasto always comes first and most of the time involves fresh bread, bruschetta, olives, soppressata, and some cheese. The primo corso which means first course comes out a few minutes after which consists of usually pasta with fresh tomato sauce, or can be soup or stew. The secondo corso which means second course is usually meat, usually chicken cutlets on a usual Sunday. During this dinner we spend quality time laughing and lots of yelling. By yelling I mean speaking to one another. As Italians we spend to speak out loud. Till this day my family, aunts, uncles, cousins, and now my cousins children all join together for meals on Sunday filled with lots of food. The social life of italians revolves around eating, and celebrating. The love of food conforms to the traditional vision of an italian family.

The role of being a female in an Italian family has shifted as new generations come. It is still expected for women to take on household chores. Those chores include cleaning, cooking, laundry, and taking care of their children. Years back the women in these families were not expected to work or even learn how to drive. All labored work was saved for the men. My mom is the youngest of her two sisters and I believe that is when this shift happened in their family particularly. My two aunts are stay at home mothers and do not drive. My mother at a young age was working and continued working years after she gave birth to my brother and I. She still manages to work, clean, do the laundry, cook, and do whatever we ask her to do. She does it all well. The Italian women cater to their families and tend to put them first. Some would say we tend to be spoiled growing up.

The way others are brought up in their cultures are individualized for each family. For my family specifically due to our italian heritage the main important things are food, family, and our religion. These three things are what has shaped my family and the morals we have.

Glossary Items:

Nonni: Italian for Grandparents

Nonna: Grandma

Nonno: Grandpa

Calabria: town in Southern Italy

Sicily: town in Southern Italy

Onomastico: Name Day in Italian

Catholic: Religion

Virgin Mary: Mother figure of Catholic Religion

Jesus: Son and Savior of Catholic Religion

Primo Corso: First Course

Seconde Corso: Second Course

#soc3 #health #p3family p4rituals

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xtestament · 4 years

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The Problem With Catholics telling you not to rely Solely on The Bible

So there’s this thing going around in the Catholic circles of “how dare you rely solely on The Bible for The Bible is not the only rightful source” of course, this is paraphrased but you get the idea, now this comes with the protestant criticism of the Catholic teachings contradicting The Bible and why that is important so let’s look at the first contradiction from the Catholics themselves using their own words.

“Like you, we believe that Scripture is truly the Word of God, authored by God and without error.”

Ok so they’ve admitted that the Scripture is without error which is good, though it begs then the question of why they get annoyed when we say their teachings and wrongful acts contradict something that is without error. If it is without error then that should be the ultimate source of which everything should rely upon, and if anything else comes that goes against it, it should not be believed. Yet for some reason they continue to believe just some of the following things.

Mary never sinned

Mary is the Coredeemer next to Christ

Mary is the redeemer of sins

Mary is the Queen of Heaven

It’s ok to pray to dead people (the apostles)

The Apostles have been set to govern over certain areas of the world and church up in heaven

Graven images in so many churches is ok

The Apostles have been given titles similar to those of the Greek/Roman Pantheon and beyond.

Only certain people through works can become saints, despite the fact that The Bible mentions that every Christian is a saint.

Priests aren’t allowed to marry

Nuns aren’t allowed to marry

Monks aren’t allowed to marry

The Pope isn’t allowed to Marry (despite previous Popes being married and having kids in history)

That Peter was never married despite The Bible mentioning that he had a wife as well as Church history (see Peter get crusified upside down with his wife)

That the Pope is the Infallible voice of God

The very act of Indulgences (pay us and we’ll give whoever a free ticket to heaven)

That Grace alone is not sufficient to get into Heaven.

These are just some of the few things out of many that contradicts what is in something that the Catholics themselves say... is without error? Like how do you not notice such glaring contradictions? I’m sorry but that takes on some serious blinders to ignore the issues here and that’s just from one sentence. Let’s however get into their “link” that speaks against it and see how it can’t be torn asunder.

“Consider why anyone would want to base their faith on an error instigated 500 years ago by Luther and reject 2,000 years of Church tradition.”

Maybe it was because Luther saw the heresy of the Church who believed that one must do certain works, pay indulgences if you want a soul to go into heaven, that Grace alone was not sufficient, that what the priests and Popes said was more important than the very teachings of Jesus? The level of corruption in the church? There were many reasons that Luther saw to split away and why he nailed his thesis on the doors of the church but here’s a video that might help explain just a little bit of it.

And let’s not forget, that when only one person can read The Bible they can simply say “Oh well, this is totally in the Bible (even though it’s not but you fools don’t know that) so you have to listen to me because you’re all uneducated and don’t know any better” Not to mention the fact that until recently and dare I say even recently, most Catholics are shall I say pushed to not read or rely on The Bible... despite the fact that it is without error... now I wonder why that would be? Oh yes, to keep people ignorant.

But let’s look at their argument for “Tradition” that is to follow Tradition and the Scripture, when it comes to the point where something is wrong, I have heard many Catholics say Tradition is more important... Tradition of errors... is more important than Scripture? Right ok, in that case we must ask who has given them the authority to be more powerful and pure than the Scriptures? Especially when they’re more fallible? Of course, this doesn’t get answered by Catholics but we still must ask the question.

Secondly, when the Early Christian Churches and groups were being created, on of the biggest divisions was that Gentiles must become circumcised in order to become a Christian, this was after all Tradition, and it’s not until Paul steps in to handle that debate that they leave that to the Jews and let Gentiles follow a different set of rules but still very vitally important ones. Also if we want to talk about Tradition as the Catholic church is so opt to do as an excuse for gross contradictions of The Bible that enter into the realms of heresy and blasphemy, why not go back to the source? What do I mean by the source? Well if we’re talking Tradition who else is closer than the Messianic Jews? Why don’t the Catholics follow in their footsteps? Also last I checked the Messianic Jews traditions don’t go against the Bible where as the Catholic ones do, thus one would have an easier time following Pauls words in the Messianic Sphere about tradition than one would anywhere else.

“What is very clear historically is that Jesus established a kingdom with a hierarchy and authority to speak for him (see Lk. 20:29-32, Mt. 10:40, 28:18-20).”

Let’s look at this for a moment because it mentions scripture and we can see what it actually says.

Luke 20: 29-32 “Now there were seven brothers. And the first took a wife, and died without children, and the second took her as wife, and he died childless, then the third took her, and in like manner the seven also; and they left no children and died. Lastly the woman died also”

Welp... nothing there that talks about a Hierarchy that he establishes to speak for him, in fact they’re asking him a question, this is I believe at the time was done by the Sadducees who were an opposing sect to the Pharisees, asking Jesus about the ressurection, to which Jesus stated that no one in Heaven is given in marriage, and that people are equal to the angels themselves if you read just a little bit further.

Matthew 10:40 “He who receives you receives Me, and he who receives Me receives Him who sent Me.”

Ok once again, nothing about a Heirarchy that I can really see, about those who he gave Authority to do things and know everything that Jesus meant and should be said and so on and so forth, so that’s 2 for 2 of whatever they just tried to pull and expected people to just believe without reading. Not to mention that this is right after the line that Jesus tells people to pick up their cross and follow him as well as denying the world and so on and so forth, once again, follow Jesus... not the Church.

Matthew 28: 18-20 “And Jesus came and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” Amen.”

Ok so I can see a heirarchy there, but only as much as “Go tell them what I (that is Jesus) have said and commanded of you�� not that they were in a higher position necessarily but this was basically the mandate of “Go into all the world and preach the Gospel” which every Christian is to do, also the Heirarchy here seems pretty clear... the things which JESUS taught and commanded, not what some priest 300-1000 years down the line would say that goes against what Jesus taught and commanded (which the Catholics believe is a ok).

Now let’s see what else they have to say for themselves.

“It was members of this Kingdom—the Church—that would write the Scripture, preserve its many texts and eventually canonize it. The Scriptures cannot write or canonize themselves.”

Well first of all they were part of the Kingdom of Christ as every Christian is, they were not yet a Church but would become parts of one later on in life, and yes the Apostles did write majority of the New Testament who all had eye witness accounts of Jesus in one way or another. In fact Luke was instructed to go and see whether the accounts were accurate by Theophilus, and basically went around interviewing every one that he could. But once again these same Apostles did not mention or believe in any of the things I mentioned earlier, and I dare say they would probably count it as false teachings by false teachers and prophets. Also since there were already False teachers and Prophets claiming things, Paul and the others basically stated “don’t listen to them, don’t entertain them, don’t welcome them and highly use discernment to tell whether something is true or false.” There are too many scriptures where this is stated but I will get them all if I must.

“With Protestants I will not debate Purgatory, Mary, Statues, Incense, Bells, Praying to Saints or the bad popes. I will not discuss pedophile priests or celibacy or papal infallibility. I will not discuss transubstantiation, the Immaculate Conception, books we “added” to the Bible, pagan traditions or the Spanish Inquisition.”

Maybe because all those things go against the Bible and the early Church teachings and you bloody well know it, thus can’t properly defend it or accept it I’d imagine.

“The only topic I will discuss is the doctrine of Sola Scripture. If he believes everything must be found in the Bible then we begin by asking where “everything must be in the Bible” is in the Bible. “

If you’re looking for the exact words Sola Scriptura in the Bible of course it’s not going to be there, but if we must here’s another interesting video this time by a Lutheran defending the basis of Sola Scriptura

and here’s another one

In turn I must ask where in the Bible does it state that the Traditions of Man or the Church are infallible? Where does it state that the Traditions taught are of a higher authority than the Bible? Which I will remind you, you youselfs state is without error. So obviously if there is a contradiction who has the higher Authority? Tradition or the Infallible word of God? You all seem to speak as if it is Tradition that holds more Authority, and if so who decided that?

Oh and just to put the nail in the coffin here, have another video

And finally because I am tired

“Yet Vatican II makes abundantly clear that this Magisterium is not “over the Word of God, but under it. It was instituted by Christ there to serve the revealed Word of God, not to change it or add to it. “

Ok so the Magisterium is not over the Word of God but under it, so then why is it ok to believe in things that are blatant blasphemies, heresies and the like? After all it just states there that it was Instituted by Christ there to serve the revealed Word of God, not to Change or add to it.

Well now fancy that, and yet you guys have both changed and added to it with things that are not right, how do you not see this? Anyways I’m tired I’ve written a lot of thoughts on it, watch the videos because they have good information but this entire post sums up what I wanted to say, even though I could probably write an entire 100 page essay on it, picking it apart piece by piece.

#christianity #christians #catholics #catholicism #sola scriptura #why sola scriptura is important #there is more than one side to an argument or debate #protestant

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