Today was interrupted because I am a. still not feeling well because I am waiting on the delivery of the special antibiotic ordered by my dr Friday and b. because I needed to read a book on works of mercy for a class I was supposed to lead tonight.
The book offered little insight, as my parish is already very active in carrying out Matthew 25: 35-40 : “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me,36naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’37Then the righteous* will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?38When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you?39When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’40i And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’” (Laudate-New American RE Bible).
Only one person showed up for this last class: just as well, as I am not certain what I would have said about charitable works we are already engaged with.
I am sure I would have gone off on one of my jags about the concept of purgatory again. A convert for the past ten years, it is one of the few Traditions I have difficulty reconciling with my view of Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross.
If he suffered such agony to atone for my sins, why do I have to wait to be purified in some Middle Kingdom when I die to be made more perfect to meet God face to face?
Jesus’ sacrifice was already made perfect on my behalf. It makes no sense to me that I should have to then shed my last vestiges of sin; did not his Crucifixion already do that? One death for all sin, for all time.
Otherwise, what was the point?
I have still not had a priest explain this satisfactorily to me. Sometimes I get close to finding an answer I think I can live with, only to have to crumple it up and toss it in the wastebasket like a poem that starts out sounding beautiful but ultimately makes no sense.
I spent the rest of the day in a commiserating phone call with my next oldest sister (the joys and pains of home ownership); a phone call with another friend about plans to get together next weekend; and a couple of decades old movies I had seen only once before but still remembered “who did it” and “why.”
While doing the latter, I multi-tasked playing a board game puzzle where my score is now over a million points. And I fed the cat. Many, many times.
Poor thing, it is not her fault. Old age and kidney issues have made her appetite fickle. Since she had “kitty dialysis” yesterday, her appetite was up today. And she must have had her fill, for tonight she is abed and content on my lap, something she doesn’t do as much any more.
I no more want to think about her continuing decline than I want to think of purgatory. And it isn’t just all dogs that go to heaven – cats, horses and other pets make it too, I am sure. I don’t care what the Catechism says on the subject. I subscribe to St. Francis of Assisi on such matters.
Oh yeah, I passed along Turnip 2020’s tweets to Donald Trump and other GOP leaders who have blocked the little red beet. I am not sure why – Turnip 2020 seems clever and cute and not at all disrespectful.
My tweets have yet to be honored by Trump censorship. Maybe I am using words that are too big.
As for Rudy Giuliani’s assertion to Chuck Todd today that “truth isn’t truth,” I refer him to Aldous Huxley:
”Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.”
Oh, and one more caution for him and his client from “Straight Up and Dirty” author Stephanie Klein: “Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you.”
And a final thought all mine:
Omarosa. Has. Tapes.
Peace out and goodnight, moon,