Clouds of the Tribulation Deepen: one early nebula's tale

Clouds of the Tribulation Deepen (Part I)

And it is appropriate they're turning empurpled-black-crumply on their way to true obsidian now, at Pentecost. 

Today's cloud: one of the first mare's tail of Tribulation that appeared on the horizon post-Vatican II was the "new Pentecost" umbra.

How long have the "Spirit of Vatican II" imps and hobgoblins boasted about "a new Pentecost" for the Church? They openly blasphemed the first (and only) Pentecost in doing so, but that notion never seemed to occur to them. (Logic need not apply to Modernists.) Even John Paul II openly said we needed a new Pentecost, or that a new one was coming. "Just wait! It's almost here! Almost around the corner! I hear it coming!"   

Surely that was in itself a running joke in the Orders of Hell, from the Hyper-Hellions through the nooks and crannies of the diabolical labyrinth to even Hell's bottom feeders, the Scamps and Pucks, howling their cackling crack-ups and cartwheeling in their obscene antics at the august figures in the Holy Church blaspheming the One Guy you do not want to blaspheme: the Holy Ghost Himself.

Pentecost: The Holy Ghost's Big Day

He's actually my favorite Person in the Most Holy Trinity. Closest to us, naturally, as close as our breath.

Recall Deuteronomy 30:14

"14 But the word is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it." (The "do it" refers to keeping God's Law that Moses has just revealed to the Israelites. 

I prefer the older language versions, like this one:

"14 But the word is very nigh unto thee, in thy mouth and in thy heart, that thou mayst do it."

But what is in our hearts and our mouths? That sounds very much like breath! And of course the Latin for breath is Spiritus. (Spiritus: of respiration, and of the wind: the Latin for the Greek pneuma and Hebrew ruah). Modern synonyms for the noun are psyche and soul. The Orthodox mesh their Jesus Prayer to their breathing. And of course, when "the spirit departs" the last breath has been breathed. The Holy Ghost has taken it. Your lively little self has then become a corpse, a clay-like mannequin of what you were, ready for shoveling under the turf.

Death. Judgement. Heaven. Hell. (Remember those, oh mortal? Ever hear of those, Bergi?)

So we have life itself and both great aid and great intimacy with the Third Person, that Sacred Wind blowing through Jerusalem's Upper Room on the First (and only) Pentecost, though we don't think about Him very often. Indeed, for some time now, we openly trash Him out. "Hey, you, Bird! Your charism ran dry, so get with it and do it again, this time in polyester and "We are the Church"-type hymnody. ("We are the Church" is sung here. If you can listen to more than the first stanza of this putridity, well, words fail. Sooner than listen again to that Novus Ordo horror, I myself would rather be eaten alive by unseen demons in the streets of Damascus as was that legendary infamous Kitab al-Azif author Abdul Alhazred!)

I'm very thankful, then, for this important feast, the "Birthday of the Church" as some call it. It seems, what with Bergoglio's latest antics (like appointing the evil bishop Robert McElroy of San Diego to the level of cardinal, for example, a huge cloud in itself), that the clouds rush together in a mordant maelstrom of mounting malignity, straight from Hell.

More clouds to come!

    An Préachán

 

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