This morning's Benedictus antiphon brought me to my senses, and so just before Mass I confessed that I had harboured harsh and cruel thoughts towards a priest, who I'd honestly wished to strike, and wished he were dead: compare that to the horror David felt at one who dared raise his hand against the Lord's anointed - as priests are.
To-day's Gospel (St Matthew v, 20-24) for the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost reminds us (and especially in my case, so appositely), as Father's sermon reiterated, that unless our justice exceed that of the Pharisees, we shall never enter the Kingdom of heaven; that it is woefully insufficient merely not to murder, if our hearts are full of murder, and our mouths curse.
I must confess to all that I am the very stereotype of a harsh Traditionalist - proud like some Spaniard about holding to the minutiæ of the Faith and anxious about every whiff of heresy, looking down my long nose at those I rashly judge, arrogant, and rude: lacking in charity.
I wince thinking about the Pharisees, who said of the masses in their day that they were accursed and damned, but never sought to aid them nor had compassion upon them, whereas Our Lord's Sacred Heart felt so concerned with the lost sheep of the House of Israel, and ever is in love with all, showering graces upon hearts that maybe they will turn again and live.
This Sunday, in the Collect, we pray that God may pour such affect of love into our hearts that we may love Him above, but also in, all things - for only then may we hope to attain His promises, which exceed every desire. God grant me conversion of heart!