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This beautiful hymnin honour of Our ladywas composedby St Alphonsus.It is sung in the old style of popular hymns.You could imagine the saintly composerconducting it during a Holy Mission.
Lodiamo cantando
La Figlia, la Sposa,
La Madre amorosa
Di chi la formo
Evviva Maria,
Maria evviva;
Evviva Maria,
E chi la creœ.
Allor che Maria,
Divisa dal Figlio
Tra spine qual giglio,
Fra noi si resto:
Ardendo il suo core
D’unirsi con Dio
Con umil desio
La Morte cercœ.
Chi tanto I’amava,
Il caro suo Sposo
Al pieno riposo
Nel ciel la chiamœ.
La morte aspettava,
Che apriese le porte;
Ma giunta la Morte
Lontan si fermœ.
Sen venne l’Amore
Col dolce suo strale
E ‘l colpo mortale
Sul cor le donœ.
Allora con pace,
Ferita giœ essendo,
D’amore languendo,
Felice spirœ.
La bella Colomba
Il volo poi sciolse;
Il Figlio l’accolse
E al ciel la portœ.
Or mentre nel cielo
O bella Regina,
Gia siedi vicina
A chi t’esaltÅ“:
Deh! non ti scordare
Di me peccatore,
Fa ch’ ami il mio core
Chi sempre mi amœ.
5 Kasım 2012 Pazartesi
More from the Greenhouse
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The greenhouse team with this year's pumpkin harvest. Not quite record breaking like our cherries, but plenty to eat anyway! It took 2 people to lift each pumpkin and a tractor to move them down to the kitchen.
In the last few months We've had plenty of strawberries, raspberries, cherries, peaches, plums, grapes and nectarines from the greenhouse. The pears have been excellent this year: very large and a delicious flavour. 
Postulant Mr. Janes picks some of our apples for the table. 
After being barren for several years, the kiwifruit vines have finally fruited. They are not quite ripe yet, but should be soon.
The weather has not been very good for tomatoes this year, but we still got a few that were a decent size! This one is just an ordinary tomato, not a a beefsteak or giant variety!
The greenhouse team with this year's pumpkin harvest. Not quite record breaking like our cherries, but plenty to eat anyway! It took 2 people to lift each pumpkin and a tractor to move them down to the kitchen. In the last few months We've had plenty of strawberries, raspberries, cherries, peaches, plums, grapes and nectarines from the greenhouse. The pears have been excellent this year: very large and a delicious flavour. Postulant Mr. Janes picks some of our apples for the table. After being barren for several years, the kiwifruit vines have finally fruited. They are not quite ripe yet, but should be soon.The weather has not been very good for tomatoes this year, but we still got a few that were a decent size! This one is just an ordinary tomato, not a a beefsteak or giant variety!
The conversation today during Afternoon Recreation...
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Twice a day the community come together for recreation. The evening recreation is usually on a spiritual topic but the afternoon one is quite open.
Discussing... how to make an old shed's foundationinto a goose pond.
Background information to the conversation of today's recreation.
When the city of Tours needed a bishop, St Martin the great monk was chosen but Martin was reluctant to become bishop, which is why he hid from those who came in search of him. Finding nowhere else to hidehe took emergency shelter in the nearest place possible. Alas it was a stable filled with geese. The noise made by the geese betrayed St Martin's whereabouts. He was taken from the stable to be consecrated bishop against his will but not without his first killing one of the geese that had so unkindly betrayed him. This incident left us the tradition of eating goose for his feast day, Martinmas, which is only ten days hence.
St Martin with our recreation's conversation.
The conversation focused on the challenge of catching a goose for St Martin's Day.
During but 30 minutes we discussed the following subjects:
A monastery marksman,Br. Jean Marie, F.SS.R.
Let us see if a goose is cooked in honour of St Martin!
Discussing... how to make an old shed's foundationinto a goose pond.Background information to the conversation of today's recreation.
When the city of Tours needed a bishop, St Martin the great monk was chosen but Martin was reluctant to become bishop, which is why he hid from those who came in search of him. Finding nowhere else to hidehe took emergency shelter in the nearest place possible. Alas it was a stable filled with geese. The noise made by the geese betrayed St Martin's whereabouts. He was taken from the stable to be consecrated bishop against his will but not without his first killing one of the geese that had so unkindly betrayed him. This incident left us the tradition of eating goose for his feast day, Martinmas, which is only ten days hence.
St Martin with our recreation's conversation.The conversation focused on the challenge of catching a goose for St Martin's Day.
During but 30 minutes we discussed the following subjects:
- the effects of wind on bullets;
- the keen sight of geese;
- deer stalking,
- antler points, antler shedding, the effect of minerals on the number of points
- the 14 year old Armish boy who caught a 30 point buck with his hand made bow and arrow; it was one of America's largest bucks, weighing 304 lb.
- personal experience of deer stalking with a rifle
- personal experience of hunting with bow and arrow
- personal experience of using the "recurve" bow, it's range
- the different hunting seasons in America
- different kinds of bows and quivers
- the manufacture of arrows, both carbon and wooden
- the way the arrow tip for hunting wild fowl is not sharp because it kills by impact and does not need to pierce the body of the bird
- the "hard line" archers who make their own wooden arrows and shun carbon ones!
- personal experience of owning and using a "recurve" bow
- two styles in bow shooting
- how the crossbow is classed as a firearm
- the speed of the white tail deer in fleeing from bowshot
A monastery marksman,Br. Jean Marie, F.SS.R.Let us see if a goose is cooked in honour of St Martin!
Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me.
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Month of the Holy Souls
Holy Souls' MassTransalpine Redemptorist Monastery, Christchurch, New Zealand.
Dear Readers, during this month we pray especially for the Faithful Departed. We encourage the old custom of writing out the names of our dead and having them placed upon the altar to be remembered during Mass.
Memento etiam, Domine, famulorum famularumquetuarum N. et N. ...Be mindful also, O Lord, of Thy servants and handmaidsN. and N. ... Therefore I warmly invite you to make a list of those departed members of your family, or a list of your friends who have died, and even including your enemies; since Our Lord has told us to pray for them as well. .jpg)
...who have gone before us with the sign of faithand sleep in the sleep of peace.... qui nos praecesserunt cum signo fideiet dormiunt in somno pacis.Having made the list email it to us. We will print it out and place it on the altar near the tabernacle. 
Every day during Holy Mass at the Memento of the Dead the priest will include those souls in the Mass he is offering. What you could so easily do for your dead relatives, friends and enemies
is to make a list of their names and have them included too..jpg)
By this act you will be doing something useful for these soulsif they are in Purgatory.
The Church applies the following words of Holy Scriptureto the dead who,from the other world, cry to youpleading for the charitable assistancethat you could easily lend them: Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me. (Job 19:21) Address your List of the Dead to:chapel@the-sons.org
Holy Souls' MassTransalpine Redemptorist Monastery, Christchurch, New Zealand.Dear Readers, during this month we pray especially for the Faithful Departed. We encourage the old custom of writing out the names of our dead and having them placed upon the altar to be remembered during Mass.
Memento etiam, Domine, famulorum famularumquetuarum N. et N. ...Be mindful also, O Lord, of Thy servants and handmaidsN. and N. ... Therefore I warmly invite you to make a list of those departed members of your family, or a list of your friends who have died, and even including your enemies; since Our Lord has told us to pray for them as well. ...who have gone before us with the sign of faithand sleep in the sleep of peace.... qui nos praecesserunt cum signo fideiet dormiunt in somno pacis.Having made the list email it to us. We will print it out and place it on the altar near the tabernacle. Every day during Holy Mass at the Memento of the Dead the priest will include those souls in the Mass he is offering. What you could so easily do for your dead relatives, friends and enemiesis to make a list of their names and have them included too.
By this act you will be doing something useful for these soulsif they are in Purgatory. The Church applies the following words of Holy Scriptureto the dead who,from the other world, cry to youpleading for the charitable assistancethat you could easily lend them: Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me. (Job 19:21) Address your List of the Dead to:chapel@the-sons.org
Don't forget the Dead!
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Br. Martin Mary, F.SS.R. offering prayers for the poor souls in Purgatory at the small cemetery in Denton, just a mile from the FSSP Seminary where he is studying. Prayers are offered there by the seminarians ever day of the month of November, which is dedicated to the holy souls.
Don't forget what we said in the last post about writing out the names of your dead and emailing them to us so that we can place them upon the altar and remember their souls during the Holy Sacrifice. Make a list of those departed members of your family, or a list of your friends who have died, and even including your enemies, since Our Lord has told us to pray for them as well, and email it to us at:chapel@the-sons.org
“Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me.” (Job 19:21)
Br. Martin Mary, F.SS.R. offering prayers for the poor souls in Purgatory at the small cemetery in Denton, just a mile from the FSSP Seminary where he is studying. Prayers are offered there by the seminarians ever day of the month of November, which is dedicated to the holy souls.
Don't forget what we said in the last post about writing out the names of your dead and emailing them to us so that we can place them upon the altar and remember their souls during the Holy Sacrifice. Make a list of those departed members of your family, or a list of your friends who have died, and even including your enemies, since Our Lord has told us to pray for them as well, and email it to us at:chapel@the-sons.org
“Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me.” (Job 19:21)
4 Kasım 2012 Pazar
Welcome To Sixth Heaven, Cloud Eight
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Good Eternity! I'm angel Steve, Marketing Manager and Guest Services Director here at SixEight. I trust you'll find everything here quite perfect--God knows you deserve it. Now I realize you're still a bit disoriented from the move, it's only natural, or, as you'll begin to realize, a bit SUPERnatural. That's our motto here at SixEight, by the way, we put the super in natural! Yes indeed, SixEight, not quite the SevenNine everybody hears about, but Heaven nonetheless; you made it! Congratulations. Well, now sure, a little disappointment is only natural, but I'm certain that in a few short eons you'll get over that. Just about every soul here--including us angels--has gone through the initial sense of disappointment, chagrin even, but trust me, SixEight is indeed paradise. Now remember how you felt when the Paris honeymoon plans didn't quite come to fruition? But then you discovered that for honeymoon purposes the Poconos ended up being, well, quite rock'n'roll indeed? Yes we know, and no, don't worry, there is no blushing in Heaven, no matter the cloud. Anyway, just relax and take in some of the more obvious amenities to help you get situated. No, those are mandolins. The harps are reserved for, yes, that's right, SevenNine. Hey, there are no rivalries, no envy here throughout the entire seven-tiered Heaven, thank God, but, um, really, entre nous, harp music? Eternity? Dwell on that for a millennium or two. Hunh? Mandolins is where it's at, we all believe. Again, not to disrespect or anything, but at FourThree? Glockenspiels. You'd have thought Lucifer would have taken all those before he took the plunge. Yes, I, know him. Knew him. Quite charming in his way, obviously. Anyway, let's see, over here, why yes, that is a tree. No, no, pluck away. No shortages here. Plenty of bacon trees for everybody. I prefer the crispier ones, just beyond that next puff there. Well, no, sorry, no streams of scotch here. That's a good one. Just gravy rivulets. Well, yes, indeed, SevenNine's shower heads are adjustable in that way; I prefer the massaging gin setting myself. Well we angels get cloud leave every epoch or two. Well, what can I say? It's SevenNine, after all. Trust me, though, by the end of my vacation--every time--I am more than ready to get back to SixEight. Because, well, SixEight is just more relaxed, homey, you know? SevenNine's just a bit too starchy and, well, anal for my tastes. How does angel Gary--you'll meet him soon enough, he's our activities director, well, sure, all sorts of fun stuff--anyway, as Gary likes to say after he returns from his cloud leave, "You can take the life away from a martyr--sometimes all too easily--but you can never take the martyr complex away from the martyr." Nuff said, hunh, hunh? Anyhoo, let me just let you wander around for a few decades and get used to the lay of the cloud, your neighboring souls, the whole, gosh, heavenly aura--whoo, low bridge, duck!--ha ha, that's SixSix, a bit rambunctious that cloud. Look, you'll love it. Relax, enjoy, it's home. Now I'm off to my daily coffee with Job. You know the conversation we've just had--why SixEight and not SevenNine? The one you'll soon realize is nonsense when you come to fully appreciate your place in Heaven? I've been having the same one with Job for a few thousand years now. Let me just say, not to complain, but for us angels, another day in paradise isn't always paradise; it's work. I earn that semi-epochly massaging gin shower, buddy. Ciao.
Good Eternity! I'm angel Steve, Marketing Manager and Guest Services Director here at SixEight. I trust you'll find everything here quite perfect--God knows you deserve it. Now I realize you're still a bit disoriented from the move, it's only natural, or, as you'll begin to realize, a bit SUPERnatural. That's our motto here at SixEight, by the way, we put the super in natural! Yes indeed, SixEight, not quite the SevenNine everybody hears about, but Heaven nonetheless; you made it! Congratulations. Well, now sure, a little disappointment is only natural, but I'm certain that in a few short eons you'll get over that. Just about every soul here--including us angels--has gone through the initial sense of disappointment, chagrin even, but trust me, SixEight is indeed paradise. Now remember how you felt when the Paris honeymoon plans didn't quite come to fruition? But then you discovered that for honeymoon purposes the Poconos ended up being, well, quite rock'n'roll indeed? Yes we know, and no, don't worry, there is no blushing in Heaven, no matter the cloud. Anyway, just relax and take in some of the more obvious amenities to help you get situated. No, those are mandolins. The harps are reserved for, yes, that's right, SevenNine. Hey, there are no rivalries, no envy here throughout the entire seven-tiered Heaven, thank God, but, um, really, entre nous, harp music? Eternity? Dwell on that for a millennium or two. Hunh? Mandolins is where it's at, we all believe. Again, not to disrespect or anything, but at FourThree? Glockenspiels. You'd have thought Lucifer would have taken all those before he took the plunge. Yes, I, know him. Knew him. Quite charming in his way, obviously. Anyway, let's see, over here, why yes, that is a tree. No, no, pluck away. No shortages here. Plenty of bacon trees for everybody. I prefer the crispier ones, just beyond that next puff there. Well, no, sorry, no streams of scotch here. That's a good one. Just gravy rivulets. Well, yes, indeed, SevenNine's shower heads are adjustable in that way; I prefer the massaging gin setting myself. Well we angels get cloud leave every epoch or two. Well, what can I say? It's SevenNine, after all. Trust me, though, by the end of my vacation--every time--I am more than ready to get back to SixEight. Because, well, SixEight is just more relaxed, homey, you know? SevenNine's just a bit too starchy and, well, anal for my tastes. How does angel Gary--you'll meet him soon enough, he's our activities director, well, sure, all sorts of fun stuff--anyway, as Gary likes to say after he returns from his cloud leave, "You can take the life away from a martyr--sometimes all too easily--but you can never take the martyr complex away from the martyr." Nuff said, hunh, hunh? Anyhoo, let me just let you wander around for a few decades and get used to the lay of the cloud, your neighboring souls, the whole, gosh, heavenly aura--whoo, low bridge, duck!--ha ha, that's SixSix, a bit rambunctious that cloud. Look, you'll love it. Relax, enjoy, it's home. Now I'm off to my daily coffee with Job. You know the conversation we've just had--why SixEight and not SevenNine? The one you'll soon realize is nonsense when you come to fully appreciate your place in Heaven? I've been having the same one with Job for a few thousand years now. Let me just say, not to complain, but for us angels, another day in paradise isn't always paradise; it's work. I earn that semi-epochly massaging gin shower, buddy. Ciao.
The Future Of Crotchety
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Call it secular grace. A moment when the cosmos rips itself a tad and permits one a glance beyond the time-space mirage into the future. I'm working the register the other night when a woman comes up with two boys, one about 10 the other about 8. She plunks the pile of books (heavy on Star Wars kids tomes) on the counter and immediately turns her back to peruse the tchotchkes in the queue line along with the older boy. The younger one leans his elbows on the counter and watches as I zap each book with the magic bar-code scanner gun/wand. One of those young boys infinitely curious about the rude mechanics of life. He doesn't say a word, simply watches a guy at work, with all the fascination such a thing conjures for a kid. I finish and wait patiently for the woman and the older boy to pluck one last impulse item. The younger kid just stares at me, no longer full of wonder at my actions. Ten fifteen maybe twenty seconds pass before the little kid has enough. In a wizened tone of voice heavy with years of frustrated waiting no way the kid could have experienced yet, he proclaims, "The guy doesn't have all night, grandma."
Far beyond the somersaults my mind does at being called "the guy," and light years beyond the happy face I put on when grandma turns around, sans tchotchkes, and completes the transaction, my mind dances with delight at meeting a kindred soul--another crotchety middle-aged man, embodied in the soul of this cute little kid. Ah, rest easy, I tell myself. Life as you know it will go on just fine long after you're gone. By the time this kid is my age I'll be six feet under but resting comfortably, definitely not spinning, because I now know my spirit of annoyed frustration at the sundry minuscule nuisances of life will live on. Out of fear at not wanting to creep the kid out and thrust him into full-blown old man curmudgeon on the spot, I restrain my natural instincts to give him a fist bump, wink, and say, with full empathy, "Brother."
But God that kid's put upon declaration to his grandma that I don't have time for all this felt like a warm slap on the back from my guardian angel. I know I know I know.
Call it secular grace. A moment when the cosmos rips itself a tad and permits one a glance beyond the time-space mirage into the future. I'm working the register the other night when a woman comes up with two boys, one about 10 the other about 8. She plunks the pile of books (heavy on Star Wars kids tomes) on the counter and immediately turns her back to peruse the tchotchkes in the queue line along with the older boy. The younger one leans his elbows on the counter and watches as I zap each book with the magic bar-code scanner gun/wand. One of those young boys infinitely curious about the rude mechanics of life. He doesn't say a word, simply watches a guy at work, with all the fascination such a thing conjures for a kid. I finish and wait patiently for the woman and the older boy to pluck one last impulse item. The younger kid just stares at me, no longer full of wonder at my actions. Ten fifteen maybe twenty seconds pass before the little kid has enough. In a wizened tone of voice heavy with years of frustrated waiting no way the kid could have experienced yet, he proclaims, "The guy doesn't have all night, grandma."
Far beyond the somersaults my mind does at being called "the guy," and light years beyond the happy face I put on when grandma turns around, sans tchotchkes, and completes the transaction, my mind dances with delight at meeting a kindred soul--another crotchety middle-aged man, embodied in the soul of this cute little kid. Ah, rest easy, I tell myself. Life as you know it will go on just fine long after you're gone. By the time this kid is my age I'll be six feet under but resting comfortably, definitely not spinning, because I now know my spirit of annoyed frustration at the sundry minuscule nuisances of life will live on. Out of fear at not wanting to creep the kid out and thrust him into full-blown old man curmudgeon on the spot, I restrain my natural instincts to give him a fist bump, wink, and say, with full empathy, "Brother."
But God that kid's put upon declaration to his grandma that I don't have time for all this felt like a warm slap on the back from my guardian angel. I know I know I know.
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