Sir Reginald, like dogs and bees, can smell your fear
"Oh, make something up."
Another glance at the watch. Time was running out, and the foreman was too nervous to think. Sir Reginald, meanwhile, was trying to clap with one hand again.
"I don't know what to tell him."
"Tell him anything,” said Sir Reginald, losing his patience. “Tell him the portal…er, the doorway…was unstable, and you had to fill it back in."
Fr. Schneidemann was a good, punctual German, and he had already arrived in the sacristy. Noticing the open door to the basement, he followed the sound of voices to the portal. He might have admired the accuracy of Cardinal Newman's description of Purgatory, or he might at least have spoken to the men. Instead, he simply exclaimed, "Mother, is that you?" and rushed over the bricks and through the portal before either man could stop him.
"Poor man. Portals like that are always one-way."
The foreman was beside himself. "There's a Mass in ten minutes! The Bishop is coming next week! We've got to get him out of there!"
"That would take a plenary indulgence. And I haven't got one."
The foreman made a noise as if to speak, but Sir Reginald held his finger to his lips and slowly said, "Brick it back up." And he turned to leave.
On his way to breakfast, Sir Reginald made one last effort and gave up. Who ever heard of an Englishman clapping with one hand, anyway?
------------------------------------------------------
And there you have it. Now I totally want to convince as many family members as I can to write Sir Reginald stories.
benjamin
PS: Jason has included the following as a bit of a lesson after reading, 'cause he's like that.
If you're curious, "The Dream of Gerontius" is a poem about a man who dies goes to purgatory. First he dies, then his guardian angel picks him up and leads him on the way to the particular judgment. On the way he passes choirs of angels and demons, who sing things, and the soul himself talks about his hopes and fears of the judgment, and his guardian angel encourages him. One of the choirs of angels sings the famous hymn, "Praise to the holiest in the height, and in the depth be praise." (The hymn was lifted straight out of the poem.)
Finally he gets to the judgment seat and is judged and goes to purgatory. Here are the final lines (the holy souls are singing Psalm 90):
§ 7. Angel
Now let the golden prison ope its gates,
Making sweet music, as each fold revolves
Upon its ready hinge. And ye, great powers,
Angels of Purgatory, receive from me
My charge, a precious soul, until the day,
When, from all bond and forfeiture released,
I shall reclaim it for the courts of light.
Souls in Purgatory
1. Lord, Thou hast been our refuge: in every
generation;
2. Before the hills were born, and the world was:
from age to age Thou art God.
3. Bring us not, Lord, very low: for Thou hast said,
Come back again, ye sons of Adam.
4. A thousand years before Thine eyes are but as
yesterday: and as a watch of the night which
is come and gone.
5. The grass springs up in the morning: at evening
tide it shrivels up and dies.
6. So we fail in Thine anger: and in Thy wrath are
we troubled.
7. Thou hast set our sins in Thy sight: and our
round of days in the light of Thy countenance.
8. Come back, O Lord! how long: and be entreated
for Thy servants.
9. In Thy morning we shall be filled with Thy
mercy: we shall rejoice and be in pleasure all
our days.
10. We shall be glad according to the days of our
humiliation: and the years in which we have
seen evil.
11. Look, O Lord, upon Thy servants and on Thy
work: and direct their children.
12. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be
upon us: and the work of our hands, establish
Thou it.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the
Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall
be: world without end. Amen.
Angel
Softly and gently, dearly-ransom'd soul,
In my most loving arms I now enfold thee,
And, o'er the penal waters, as they roll,
I poise thee, and I lower thee, and hold thee.
And carefully I dip thee in the lake,
And thou, without a sob or a resistance,
Dost through the flood thy rapid passage take,
Sinking deep, deeper, into the dim distance.
Angels, to whom the willing task is given,
Shall tend, and nurse, and lull thee, as thou liest;
And masses on the earth, and prayers in heaven,
Shall aid thee at the Throne of the Most Highest.
Farewell, but not for ever! brother dear,
Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow;
Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here,
And I will come and wake thee on the morrow.
I have always thought that last four stanzas would be an excellent ending to a funeral homily. If you played your cards right, a) there wouldn't be a dry eye in the house, and b) they would all go home and pray for the holy souls to be delivered from purgatory and get to heaven.
J
Another glance at the watch. Time was running out, and the foreman was too nervous to think. Sir Reginald, meanwhile, was trying to clap with one hand again.
"I don't know what to tell him."
"Tell him anything,” said Sir Reginald, losing his patience. “Tell him the portal…er, the doorway…was unstable, and you had to fill it back in."
Fr. Schneidemann was a good, punctual German, and he had already arrived in the sacristy. Noticing the open door to the basement, he followed the sound of voices to the portal. He might have admired the accuracy of Cardinal Newman's description of Purgatory, or he might at least have spoken to the men. Instead, he simply exclaimed, "Mother, is that you?" and rushed over the bricks and through the portal before either man could stop him.
"Poor man. Portals like that are always one-way."
The foreman was beside himself. "There's a Mass in ten minutes! The Bishop is coming next week! We've got to get him out of there!"
"That would take a plenary indulgence. And I haven't got one."
The foreman made a noise as if to speak, but Sir Reginald held his finger to his lips and slowly said, "Brick it back up." And he turned to leave.
On his way to breakfast, Sir Reginald made one last effort and gave up. Who ever heard of an Englishman clapping with one hand, anyway?
------------------------------------------------------
And there you have it. Now I totally want to convince as many family members as I can to write Sir Reginald stories.
benjamin
PS: Jason has included the following as a bit of a lesson after reading, 'cause he's like that.
If you're curious, "The Dream of Gerontius" is a poem about a man who dies goes to purgatory. First he dies, then his guardian angel picks him up and leads him on the way to the particular judgment. On the way he passes choirs of angels and demons, who sing things, and the soul himself talks about his hopes and fears of the judgment, and his guardian angel encourages him. One of the choirs of angels sings the famous hymn, "Praise to the holiest in the height, and in the depth be praise." (The hymn was lifted straight out of the poem.)
Finally he gets to the judgment seat and is judged and goes to purgatory. Here are the final lines (the holy souls are singing Psalm 90):
§ 7. Angel
Now let the golden prison ope its gates,
Making sweet music, as each fold revolves
Upon its ready hinge. And ye, great powers,
Angels of Purgatory, receive from me
My charge, a precious soul, until the day,
When, from all bond and forfeiture released,
I shall reclaim it for the courts of light.
Souls in Purgatory
1. Lord, Thou hast been our refuge: in every
generation;
2. Before the hills were born, and the world was:
from age to age Thou art God.
3. Bring us not, Lord, very low: for Thou hast said,
Come back again, ye sons of Adam.
4. A thousand years before Thine eyes are but as
yesterday: and as a watch of the night which
is come and gone.
5. The grass springs up in the morning: at evening
tide it shrivels up and dies.
6. So we fail in Thine anger: and in Thy wrath are
we troubled.
7. Thou hast set our sins in Thy sight: and our
round of days in the light of Thy countenance.
8. Come back, O Lord! how long: and be entreated
for Thy servants.
9. In Thy morning we shall be filled with Thy
mercy: we shall rejoice and be in pleasure all
our days.
10. We shall be glad according to the days of our
humiliation: and the years in which we have
seen evil.
11. Look, O Lord, upon Thy servants and on Thy
work: and direct their children.
12. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be
upon us: and the work of our hands, establish
Thou it.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son: and to the
Holy Ghost.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall
be: world without end. Amen.
Angel
Softly and gently, dearly-ransom'd soul,
In my most loving arms I now enfold thee,
And, o'er the penal waters, as they roll,
I poise thee, and I lower thee, and hold thee.
And carefully I dip thee in the lake,
And thou, without a sob or a resistance,
Dost through the flood thy rapid passage take,
Sinking deep, deeper, into the dim distance.
Angels, to whom the willing task is given,
Shall tend, and nurse, and lull thee, as thou liest;
And masses on the earth, and prayers in heaven,
Shall aid thee at the Throne of the Most Highest.
Farewell, but not for ever! brother dear,
Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow;
Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here,
And I will come and wake thee on the morrow.
I have always thought that last four stanzas would be an excellent ending to a funeral homily. If you played your cards right, a) there wouldn't be a dry eye in the house, and b) they would all go home and pray for the holy souls to be delivered from purgatory and get to heaven.
J