• March 8, 2012 /  Quotes and Logs

    “And upon this rock I shall build my Church and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.” – Matthew 16:18

    My Dear Brothers and sisters, the Clergy of the Holy Order:

    I come before you today as your spiritual Father, a man dedicated to God in all his actions and a Servant of Dav as you all are. Over the last few days, I have been setting myself to prayer on disturbing trends which I have been observing with increasing outrage as well as with guilt in recognizing, humbly, my own faults in these things. I take to the pen here today resolved on change. Change for the Order, change for the Church, change for Lithmore.

    The very problem that disturbs me so greatly is the conflict with that ancient enemy of ours, the smoke of the Abyss, heresy. Like a great cloud, it wafts over us, obscures the clear vision of the Faithful and blots out the light of Truth. Indeed, it creeps over us, breaking its way in every weakness of our defense. Any crack in the walls which we erect about our Church shall constitute a weakness, a means by which evil might come to manipulate and control us.

    The mood among the laity, I grieve to say, is not one which befits the Church in the least. Irreverence grows, clergy are questioned in their wisdom, the Faith is being taken into the hands of those not ordained to bear it. While the Faithful indeed have the right and the duty of discerning their Faith through prayer, we must remember that Truth has been given to this Church to be safeguarded and by the graces of God, we are protected in our custodial ministry, watching over the Sacred Traditions which has been passed down to us from the earliest of all days.

    Thus, I charge each one of you, we must take a stand. Though keeping in mind charity, compassion, and mercy, the virtues which must always guide us, we must also take up the sword of Truth and the shield of strong Faith. Our Hope must be in Heaven and our Consolation in the Chalice. It is time to blot out heresy, take arms, my brethtren, in Faith. For it is time for the good fight to be fought. The very soul of Lithmore lies in the balance.. To the Church we must return her holy patrimony. To the Church we must confirm and invest the authority to safeguard and care for all souls as the -final- authority on Faith, not open to the questioning and attacks of others. For when we expose ourselves to such things, when we abandon the Church to lukewarm resolve and compromise, we shall fail.

    To this cause and to all your good endeavors, I glaldy and proudly impart my blessing. I assure you of my prayers and ask for yours as we take up this call.

    In Faith, Before the Lord of the Springs and Dav,
    Benedictus Piuso
    Cardinal of Lithmore

    This letter is sealed with a depiction of Saint Celeste and Saint Aelwyn bowing, on opposing sides, of the chalice.

  • March 3, 2012 /  Quotes and Logs, Reflections

    “His power is infinite, and if I lean on Him it will be mine; His wisdom is infinite, and if I look to Him for counsel I shall not be deceived; His goodness is infinite, and if my trust is stayed on Him I shall not be abandoned. Hope unites me to my God and Him to me. Although I know I am not sufficient for the burden, my strength is in Him. For the salvation of others I must bear weariness, face dangers, suffer offences, confront storms, fight against evil. He is my Hope.” – St. Pope Pius X

    Consider, my brethren, Saint Celeste. An odd request, you all may think, to think on this child-martyr of ours. She is an oddity in the Faith of this Church, an inexplicable figure amongst the high and mighty saints and lords of Heaven, the likes of Saint Aelwyn and Dav. These were mighty men, great politicians and statesmen. These were men of honor, of strength. They bore with them the great swords of Faith, the strong blades of Truth. And with them, the executed the will of God without question. Their memories be blessed and may we all look to them as examples in our own lives. Yet, I’ve not called you here to consider St. Aelwyn and Dav. I’ve not called you here to as what is easy, to think on a bravery which though uncommon, can be said to come naturally to us men. No, my friends, I’ve called you here on a wholly different purpose. On one which indeed may be all the harder than asking you to fight for your Faith: the task of dying for it.

    Saint Celeste, as you know, was a child and she bore that one thing which it seems so many of us, indeed Cardinals an Priests included, have lost, that is, innocence. Saint Celeste had no memory of the blade, the ways of war were wholly unknown her. Of all the great, wonderful, and terrible things of the Urth, St. Celeste knew but one, God. And with that knowledge, she went unto a vocation not unlike that of Saint Aelwyn or Dav, yet entire worlds apart. She went to death.

    St. Celeste remainds us of, what I think, is thing we struggle the most with as people. She reminds us of our mortality, that common thing which many over the years have tried to cheat, but which we all have failed. I do not believe there are many among us today who couls speak with perfect honesty and say that they are at peace with the prospect of death. All our lives, we spend evading it in one form or another. We are driven by the hunger to live, to somehow carve out a niche in this world which is unerasable. We are driven mad by our desire to create a lasting existence, one which remains past the brief blink of an eye which is our time here. Yet, with Saint Celeste, we are reminded it is all for not. Where others dream of deaths surrounded by glory. Where others seek a passing which is to be remembered, one passed down in the tales of bards and the writings of scholars, Celeste sought holiness. She did not desire the world see her. She slipped from it and disappeared into the deep forests that surround the Spring. She ran from the world and fled into the arms of God. And there, she died. She died not with a blade in her hand or on her feet in battle. She died not with the fervor of a warrior in her heart or the strength of a soldier. She but fell to her knees, took up a rose, a flower which she meant to empart unto the Spring to which she had dedicated her life. she closed her eyes and with little but the last breath of a prayer, she accepted death. She accepted mortality.

    When I began my Cardinalate, I saw myself as to stand in the shoes of St. Aelwyn. I saw the world as a battlefield where the enemies of the Faith prowled like wolves to destroy the innocents. I saw the Urth as a dark wilderness full of dangers and snares and I looked to St. Aelwyn as an example of how one must take such things on. I took up his sword. I told myself that I should serve the Chalice by it, like he did. That it would be the mighty reckoning for sin that was needed if we ever were to be free of it. I left St. Celeste and I took up the war banner of the armies of Heaven. I can say now, that as I stand here, that though I joined a good and mighty company. One which many of you are destined to join and that the members of should always be remebered for their bravery and sanctity, I had chosen not the path carved out for me by the Lord. My predecessors have been great politicians and statesmen. They have been examples of the greatness a Cardinal can achieve. I look to them with great admiration, but also with the realization that I cannot be as they were. I, to be frank, play a horrible game of chess. Yet, what does that game of chess matter? For what do I play it? For when I pass this life, as I one day shall, for what do what to be remembered? Do I wish to be remembered for myself? Do I want for my name the mighty title of ‘Saint’ or the great ceremonies of the Church? Nay, indeed I would deplore such for myself. For when I pass from this world, I do not desire these things. Indeed, I desire that I be forgotten. For nothing which I do here today, have done in days past, or shall do in the days come has proceeded from myself, but from God. Nothing good which shall come of my moment here on Urth shall have been the product of my own ingenuity or cleverness, of my political savvy or careful play. No, it shall have come from Heaven. For, in the end, what things of this Urth shall last the winds time save that which is grounded in holiness? We, friends, are dust. All that we do is dust. And unto dust all these things shall return. Yet, when we take up prayer. When we take up the path which we have been given. We need not fear. Death is not my enemy. He is powerless against me for he cannot take from me anything which has not already been given. My mission is to toil for the salvation of souls, and death cannot take salvation from any man. Though time shall wear at my body and at all human memory of my existence. Though years from now, I may be at the very best a footnote in an ancient book of history, I shall not have lost. For, if I live my life as I now resolve to. If I now throw myself into the fullest service of God, what shall come of me that I desire to remain is that everyone here may recieve the bliss of heaven. I give my name as ransom for your souls. I give my strength as payment. My comfort as trade. I desire that I die poor of all honors, a pauper of all things but holiness.

    Some among you may call me a fool for this. There shall undoubtedly be whispers in courts of the mad Cardinal who commited for himself a death to all political success. Very well, for if what do now is folly, I desire not wisdom. Indeed, the wisdom of God makes all men fools. I’d gladly be fool for God.

    I’ll not wear my sword again. Instead, I’ll carry my rose.

  • March 1, 2012 /  Reflections

    Of all the things I’ve done in this life, I feel most like a Priest when I hear confessions.  The cellula is dim, I sit behind the grate. No longer am I ‘Your Holiness’ I am ‘Father’.  Lithmore trickles in, the rich and the poor, the humble and proud, strong and weak.  It helps us to see, I think, that despite what we may think , we truly are not that different.  Each of us has a face, each of us has a soul, and each of us sins.  I listen to their whispers, their tears, in the dark. And I speak softly, not with mine own words, but as God’s mouthpiece.

    Beyond that confessional, who I am is flawed.  I am the Cardinal and try as I might, I am but a man.  Yet behind that grate, I’m able to be what God wills me to be.  I am a Priest, a holy Priest, and despite any of my human weakness, I am there, stripped of my sin, to be a guide. A light in the darkness moving forward to say ‘Come! Follow me and when you do, be not afraid!”  Its that moment when all the mistakes of this life fall away to its successes, that my weakness, which is so evident to me, fades away.

    In the confessional, I find the path to Heaven. Beyond it, I follow along faithfully.

  • February 29, 2012 /  OOC

    Haha.. you’ve all noticed Bene being horribly busy lately.

    Well, with a little luck, God willing, it’ll all be done soon.. I will confess, I will be happy to have a lot of answers to these questions.

    If it goes as planned, people will fall, plans may be dashed, and you might get a little fire by the end. <3 I know how much ya’ll like the fires.

  • February 27, 2012 /  Memories

    I can remember my ordination day.

    I remember the Cathedral, bright, full of life. I  remember how I stood there in the rectory and looked in the mirror, rubbing my hands over those rough robes, brown. Behind me, in the dim light, I could see laying on my bed, the new robes. An immaculate white with a small black skullcap perched upon them. I sat down and looked at them, upon them was a slip of paper written in the same familiar script of an old friend, a confessor:

    “Piuso,

    I know, you’ve been through a lot in the past months, but know we’re all here proud of you. Regardless of your choice, you’ll amount to much, Brother, don’t be afraid to make the right one. Only the Lord has the wisdom to see what lies ahead, but if you ask, He’ll answer. You just have to know the right question.

    All the best,
    Fr. Francis ab Petrum”

    I read over the letter a few times, it was short enough, simple and plain. But it meant the world to me. The other day, I’d made my confession to the man, I’d confided in him that I had doubts, I wasn’t sure if I could take the vows when it came to it. I just wasn’t sure and how could I be? We’d been warned always that those not called to the Priesthood would make utter failure, that only the chosen had the graces to carry it out. I just didn’t know.. but here I was, in an hour, I’d have to make my choice.

    So, I stood up and I slipped on the robes, the white garment of the priest. It fell about my ankles and enveloped my body, it seemed.. foreign, bright and I looked to the mirror. Looking back at me was the man who had always looked back in my dreams. The loyal Priest, the good man. He was calm, content though seeming also cool at times, like the stone of an ancient church or the hard wooden surface of an altar. A pious, reverent self whose soul was pointed straight to Heaven and mind hardly lingering on the things of this time. Yet, there was a tenderness to it, a hope. The robes came off. Pacing, pacing.. Finally, I dared to entertain a dream, a question. I didn’t know if I wanted this answer, what it would mean, but I had to have it. Quietly, I found the box in my closet, a small wooden coffer filled with a few clothes I had smuggled in. Simple, plain clothes, but the clothes of a layman. I had not dared put them on, but I’d kept them, just in case.

    The man the looked back at me now was not what I’d expected. He was young, full of enthusiasm and potential. He had a future, a lover, a family to be had, a life to live. He seemed happy.. yet, somehow, as I looked at him, he seemed foreign. The eyes that looked back at me, though on the surface warm and full of life had something stirring in their depths, a regret, though deeply hidden. I could not describe it, but he seemed sad somehow, cheated, as if his life, though amounting to much, would truly amount to nothing. I looked at him for a long time, watching, thinking. Finally, I had my answer.

    I knelt before the bishop that day. I made my vows to serve my God and His Church with my all. My nose touched the cold stone floor as I made my final supplication to the altar, my final reverence to that place at which I would come to serve and I shed a tear. I left that man, there are the altar, that man who could have been and inside, I laughed for somehow, I’d done it. I’d made the choice and though I still felt the stirrings of doubt, I somehow did not. It was but anxiety and it slipped away in time. Ben Piuso, the laymen who could have been, the Reeve or courtier, slipped away, receding int myself in favor of Father Piuso, Priest of the Lord.

    Ben Piuso would occupy my thoughts from time to time. He was a deep part of myself, buried beneath the robes of office, an old faded promise of what could have been. I wondered where he would have gone, what he would be doing now. Yet, he was gone.. he was but a faint dream from the past, a lingering half memory. Soon, the reality was Bishop Piuso and then Cardinal Piuso. But then, suddenly, so many years past that fateful day, Ben Piuso quietly entered back into existence. He was there, suddenly, for a moment, there so much he seemed almost real, as if I were to look down at these myself and see not crimson robes but the normal greys, blacks, browns of a simple man’s clothing and no Cardinal’s ring upon my finger, but perhaps a wedding band. He’s come to linger with me lately, whispering the words of a future lost to a weary man’s ears. Yet, through it all, I think back. I think back to the floor, my nose in the dust. I think back to Ben’s eyes. I think back to the soft touch of the ordination blessing, through which God Himself seemed to have touch my soul. I remember the altar. I remember and I know..

  • February 25, 2012 /  Reflections

    These hours have been a blur, as if the world has passed me by in an instant. Yet, each second seems like an eternity now.. and my face is beginning to show it.  I sit on this Cathedra, wear the robes, and look out upon so many faces everyday. I’ve seen demons, I’ve seen mages, I’ve looked sin in the face and defeated it time and time again. Yet, no day has been so hard as today.

     

    And to think it began with something so innocent, morning prayer, time with the Acolytes, Synod work, Synod work, Synod work.. and then I was off for the little bit of rest I deserved, a chance to masquerade as someone else if only for a moment. And yet, there I was, faced with that conflict which has rent me so much of late.. there I was, again dancing on a dream. And we shared that one moment, that brief second in time..

     

    And even as I drew that breath, even as I slipped away, anguished, confused.. I felt oddly pleasant as if, somehow, somewhere, life would resolve itself. The Lord would console me. Somehow, it would work for the best, somehow..

     

    My soul is heavy and I’ve seen pain. I knew not how much it would hurt to see you there. Yet, I had to. God, You know how much I hate that place.

     

    And here I am. All the conflicts of this life, of this office, seem now to come crashing down. The Cathedral itself offers no solace now. I kneel at the altar and for a moment, I feel safe.. but it passes, I must venture out. Oh, how life can go from a stable structure to broken ruins so quickly.

     

    God shall save you, He’ll keep your soul and renew it.. no matter what comes.

    Yet, I cannot know if He’ll give me the same. I pray He does.

     

    O Lord, why do I feel so alone? Are You not here?

    I wear this crown of thorns

    Upon my liar’s chair

    Full of broken thoughts

    I cannot repair

    And you can have it all,

    My empire of dirt,

    I will let you down,

    I will make you hurt.

    If I could start again

    A million miles away

    I would keep myself

    I would find a way.

  • February 24, 2012 /  Uncategorized

  • February 23, 2012 /  Reflections

    Its cold in the Cathedral at night.
    Very cold.

    The stain glass windows, once bright and alive with the dancing sunlight, have gone dark
    and silent.

    And yet, here I am.
    I kneel at the icy stone rail
    Before me, lit by the flickering specters of its candles
    Is the altar
    The altar I swore to serve upon
    And vowed to uphold.
    Its all that’s in view now
    Even the chalice above it is shrouded
    And behind me are even darker shadows
    They seem all the more sinister now

    Ashes to ashes
    Dust to dust
    In my heart a fire burns
    But what is its fuel?
    And does it provide warmth?

    O Lord, what am I doing?

  • February 21, 2012 /  Treatise

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  • February 19, 2012 /  Reflections

    A fulfilling vocation, the Priesthood. The Lord has chosen for himself men and women from across the realm. It seems difficult for some, the celibacy. However, they fail to see, the love that they show for their spouse, for their children, it is the Lord’s will for some that it expand and encompass all peoples by His grace. It is a happy life, one that is full of endless reward. Some may look down on it because of celibacy, but truly, its so much more… The celibacy is there to ensure that we can love as we are able. And from it, we find freedom and joy. I – I know what it can feel like to be in love.. However, for those of us who have been chosen, there is little place for us but at the altar. And at the end of the day, despite what I may feel, I know its true for me… and I believe that its true for you. And I tell myself a prayer which has echoed in my heart since my earliest days: “I shall go to the Altar of Dav..”

    Hearing that, I feel comforted and warm, as if in the arms of a kind father. I know I’ve made the right choice, despite what heartache I may feel at times. I know that despite what may come, even martyrdom, I shall have walked down the right path. In the darkness, prayer has been my light and before me I’ve kept always the image of a God so great. No matter what comes, I shall run into His arms as I’ve so desired. As the sun sets, there is no doubt, there is no fear. Only Love and its Origin.