Having sat through a rather annoying Mass the other day (it being obvious that the celebrant begrudged having to say Mass on Monday, that priestly Sabbath more sacred than any other, and for that matter couldn't be bothered even to try saying the new words for his parts at Mass - when the laity present had all long since accepted and memorized theirs - and didn't even bother to use any Penitential Rite at all, this being dispensable in his estimation it appears, given the evident objective to get the liturgy over and done with), it was joy indeed to arrive at Mass, albeit rather late (being afflicted with hayfever), and to find at the altar, not some lacklustre cleric itching to be gone, but a godly religious, preaching a moving sermon about priestly and religious holiness, all to the glory of the Sacred Heart and its conquest of souls. I couldn't remember his name until he reminded me of it, since I have a bad memory for names oddly enough, but I did recognize him, and did recall the name of his companion in the pews: it was Fr Benedict and Br Louis, those stalwart Conventual Franciscans, with whom I studied theology about a decade or so ago. Very kindly they said hello to me after having made their thanksgiving after Mass, and I'm glad to wish them well for the remainder of their time here in Tasmania. How good to see a priest happy to be a priest, and one who cares for the flock.
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