Here is my rant:
Some of you may have noticed that this is the second post.
Apparently I copied and pasted incorrectly and my entire post had not been posted.
Anyway onto the Ranting.
You have been warned.
All my life I have been raised in a Traditional Catholic environment. It was not until I was about twelve years old that I had ever even known a Novus Ordo Mass existed. The only Mass I had ever known had been in the Traditional Rite and as for the Spirit of Vatican II…it has always been in my life, exactly what it claims to be…a spirit, a ghost, a mystery.
Who do I thank for my upbringing? Who am I eternally grateful towards for my traditional and orthodox childhood? It’s the SSPX, and believe it or not…they are in fact somewhat Catholic ;).
My rant today is about how the SSPX are treated as orphans, or treated somehow inferior to their fellow Catholics.
I’ll begin by some background information on my encounter with the SSPX (call it propaganda if you wish, or see it as simply as a biased opinion, it doesn’t matter to me)
My entire spiritual formation began in the walls of St. Micheal’s Roman Catholic Church. Amazing isn’t it…that the title does not read “St. Micheal Lefebvrist Radical Anti-Vatican II Crazy Sedevacantist Arena for Novus Ordo Bashing”
No, contrary to popular opinion, the SSPX chapel which existed and still exists down my street was simply “Roman Catholic”. Nowhere did they boast some sort of gigantic monument to Arch. Lefebvre or any Palmarian Anti-Pope. The exterior was simply Catholic, and the interior was as well.
It was there, under the guidance of those illicit and schismatic ‘priests’ of the SSPX that I learned both the cute Bible stories of the Old Testament, and the time tested values of the Saints. It was there that I slowly began to understand that the Jesus cookie was in fact Jesus himself, and it was there that I finally accepted the fact that the Biretta is not a ‘mickey-mouse hat’ but a solemn yet out-of-place part of the priestly Vestments. Today I snicker at the many such opinions that dominated my childhood, and marvel at the fact that the SSPX actually had time to teach me about Noah and the Ark.
How could they miss out on an opportunity to brainwash my seven year old mind into some sort of hateful raging sedevacantist. How could they!? Don’t they know what SSPX stands for!!!?? That being:
“Society of Sedevacantist Priests who want to “X” out the Novus Ordo”
….at least something along those lines.
Yes, well I continued to grow up in that SSPX chapel until my Father decided that it would be best for us if we moved to the newly established FSSP parish downtown.
Being 12 years old, and more occupied with chewing gum during the Mass then understanding the liturgy (provided it was Trident gum…anything else is far too modernist for SSPX standards) I followed along without protest to my new FSSP parish.
Nothing was different, nothing seemed different at all. Nothing was more Catholic or less Catholic than it had been at the SSPX chapel.
Nothing seemed different in the liturgy, and the homilies were so similar to my SSPX forebears that you couldn’t even tell they were different priests.
I continued to grow right where I had left off in my SSPX home.
It was that same year that our FSSP church was undergoing a renovation. Masses were held in a far away place at a crazy hour in the chapel of some cemetery for the time being. Our family couldn’t make it. So we settled for the NO, since my Dad didn’t want to return to the SSPX parish.
That’s where I found a change. That’s where things started getting radical. And that’s where I began to question….is this in alignment with what Rome teaches?
I remember how as an Altar server I had to cross seven Eucharistic ministers in order to get to the other side of the church. Naturally, as I had been trained to do by both the FSSP and the SSPX, I genuflected at each bowl and chalice containing Our Lord. Apparently this was extremely funny to many people in the parish, and at the moment I couldn’t quite understand why.
I wouldn’t understand till a bit later.
I voiced my objection to good ol’ Pop and he seemed to understand. I didn’t though. I couldn’t understand how if Our Lord is the same in every host (something my old parish priest taught me) he was treated differently in different parishes.
I recall the story of how a friend of mine, (we’ll call him Scott) snuck his hand into the tabernacle and touched Our Lord with his forefinger for a brief moment. Someone tattle-taled and Scott was given the worst punishment of his life when Father told his parents.
To be continued…