...passed through Melancholicus’ mind this morning, him having been dragged from his bed to attend 8am Mass on a cold and rainy morning, and as he settled himself painfully into his pew among the wretched ‘heritage’ missals and ‘gather’ hymnals and listened aghast to the execrable plinkety-plonk of the church piano hammering out some happenin’ ditty courtesy of OCP, he suddenly thought
“I wish this was Episcopalian”.
Meaning not the presidency of a half-lesbian, half-Muslim bishoppess, but the traditional piety and decorum of the Book of Common Prayer (1928), for in the latter case, the liturgy would at least be decent.
There is a Continuing Anglican church within walking distance of Melancholicus’ house. He has not yet checked it out, and so far has resisted the temptation to do so.
But there is no Traditional Latin Mass within easy reach, and the Amchurch version of the Novus Ordo is a parody of itself and often beyond endurance. Melancholicus has never seen a religious rite as degraded and horizontal.
How long, O Lord, how long?
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