The Met Gala and Catholic Apoplexia

Yesterday Catholics all over the U.S. went apeshit ballistic on social media over a bunch of celebutards doing their best to ape the Faith in appearance only. Without social media, none of us would have even known about it. But just put this in perspective:

1. No real, consecrated vestments were worn, and no real sacrilege took place. None of the gaudy crap was blessed, and half if it looks like cheap trash not worthy of any Altar, even one where Cardinal Dolan is squatting…though there was one coronet that I would most definitely wear whilst gardening. It was wicked posh!

2. ALL of our Catholic vesture is borrowed from ancient secular and pagan cultures, and much of what we think of as holy is actually military garb….Romans weren’t gasping for breath in apoplectic fits over Catholic priests and bishops wearing chasubles and copes1,500 years ago; if they had, the Modernists would surely be reminding us ad nauseum that there was a time when the Church was unlawfully impersonating the military forces of the day.

3. If you can’t tell the difference between Kati Perry dressed up like a post-menopausal drag queen “angel” and the real thing (believe me: there is *NOOO* comparison), you deserve to be offended.

4. There are people around the world RIGHT NOW who are being *murdered* during Mass for the *PRIVILEGE* of being Catholic; priests being martyred at the Altar in persona Christi. We are ALL called by virtue of our baptism to martyrdom. If a bunch of ignorant morons dressed up for early Halloween really strikes you as persecution, you need to get your head examined.

5. “Because the world first hated Me, you will be hated, also….”

You signed up for this. You are either looking forward to eternity, or you are looking back at the world. You can’t have it both ways. Get over your pampered selves, and have some perspective. Be ready to die for what you believe, and don’t be such a bunch of pussies about it.

6. Be proud of the fact that these people see the trappings of the Altar beautiful enough to pretend at. And remember that the vesture and paraments that people like *me* make look just as flimsy in the eyes of Heaven’s reality. Our sacrifices are all gossamer gloss with tarnish. And GOD loves us anyway.

I’ll give you a great example:

When I make a set of vestments for a priest, it’s an act of prayer; it’s tactile contemplation. Every single stitch. I pour everything into it: my wants, my heartaches, my memories, my sorrows, my screaming matches with GOD, my tears, my hopes and dreams for others, my fears about this world. Years later, I can point to any piece and tell you what I was thinking, what I wrestled with, where my heart was.

When I’m finished, they get blessed and consecrated, and they go into service.

When people see my vestments worn in the sanctuary, they have no idea. It’s just a priest, saying Mass. When I see my vestments worn in the sanctuary, I remember what’s in that chasuble, that stole, that pall…the maniple…the beautiful blood red cross I stitched into the amice that the priest kissed before he wrapped it around his shoulders….and I silently say again and again, “Father, please hear me. Graciously hear me!”

Now if someone had worn *my* vestments for some bullshit party, I’d be annoyed. But these people have not a clue about what they really mean…and it’s not worth my energy to even bother getting worked up over it.

Some people are suggesting nepharious intentions in this preening party of megalomaniacs, but intent requires knowledge. I wonder how many of these people are actually capable of answering a quiz about what those play vestments really symbolize?

For that matter, how many American Catholics who *haven’t* attended my Altar Linens Retreat could correctly respond to the same quiz???

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