You cannot claim to be Catholic if you do not believe in the Mass and Holy Eucharist

Catholic Mass                                                                                     en.wikipedia.org

By Larry Peterson

What follows are quotes about the Catholic Mass. It would be best if you remembered that only within the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass can the Holy Eucharist become present. That happens by the actions of ONLY an ordained Catholic priest. It is he who stands in the shoes of Christ (in persona Christi) and says the words of consecration over the bread and wine, giving us Jesus Christ under the appearances of bread and wine.

 

                   A FEW WORDS FROM SOME GREAT SAINTS ABOUT HOLY MASS

The following quotes are from some of the greatest Catholic Saints who ever lived. These quotes are about the Mass in which the Holy Eucharist becomes the REAL PRESENCE.

When Mass is being celebrated, the sanctuary is filled with countless angels who adore the Divine Victim immolated on the altar.”  St. John Chrysostom 347-407 A.D.

“If we really understood the Mass, we would die of joy.” –  St. John Vianney 1786-1859

The angels surround and help the priest when he is celebrating Mass.” – St.Augustine of Hippo 354-430 A.D.

It would be easier for the world to survive without the sun than to do without Holy Mass.” – St. Padre Pio 1887-1968

“The heavens open and multitudes of angels come to assist in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.” – St. Gregory the Great 540-604 A.D.

“How happy is that guardian angel who accompanies a soul to Holy Mass!” – St. John Vianney 1786-1859

“I believe that were it not for the Holy Mass, as of this moment, the world would be in the abyss.” St. Leonard of Port Maurice  1676-1751

And from Pope St. John Paul II  1920-2005

From this moment on, live the Eucharist fully; be persons for whom the Holy Mass, Communion, and Eucharistic adoration are the center and summit of your whole life.”  

Let us thank God daily for the Holy Mass and the gift of Jesus in the Eucharist!

Copyright©Larry Peterson 2021

 


The Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Hot Chocolate Miracle

Thanksgiving Prayer                               public domain

By Larry Peterson

During the early morning hours of November 24, 1906, a ship quietly slid against the ebb-tide waters of the Narrows and entered New York harbor. Onboard were almost 2000 people, mostly immigrating Europeans. Through the emerging light of the new dawn, the Statue of Liberty came into view. The appearance of the great icon had them mesmerized. They had arrived at their new home, America.

Among the people on board was a little girl from Hungaria. Her name was Julia, and she was four years old. She held a small rag doll tightly in her arms. At that moment in time, it was the only link she had to security and happiness.

Eight days earlier, Julia had hugged her poppa goodbye. She remembered his stubbly beard tickling her face and how he had reached into the pocket of his big wool overcoat and pulled out a surprise. It was a doll. He smiled and said, “For you, Shkutabella (my little pretty).  Her name is Rachel, and I made her for you. As long as you have her, I will always be with you even if I am not there. Do you understand?”

Julia nodded her head up and down, and her mom said, “Please, Bollassar, please come with us. I do not like going without you.”

“Viola, it is all right. I will be over in a year. My brother George will take care of you. It is all right. Our love will keep us close to each other.”

A week had passed, and as Viola and Julia stood on the deck, a lifeboat broke free from its support cable. It fell and hit Viola, killing her instantly. Julia’s mom had been standing next to her, and then suddenly, she was lying lifeless on the deck. The child’s young mind could not understand why her mom did not move. She screamed at her to wake up.  That would never happen. As the ship docked at the pier, all Julia could feel was fear and loneliness.

At Ellis Island, a bizarre series of events saw Julia shuffled from one official to another. When a lady smiled at her, the official nearby assumed they were together and made Julia go with the lady. The woman took Julia as far as Broome and Varick Streets in lower Manhattan. She told the child to stay there and walked away.  The little girl did as told, and just like that, Julia had become another abandoned child on the crowded and dangerous streets of lower Manhattan.

Little Julia, holding Rachel, had been standing in the same spot for more than an hour. She was cold, hungry, and frightened. Wiping her tears had left gray smudges across her puffy cheeks. Then her guardian angel stepped in. Turning the corner was the beat cop, Paddy Dolan. He was instantly smitten with the dark-haired, blue-eyed child and asked her her name. Hesitatingly she said, “Julia.”

The policeman knelt in front of Julia and placed his hands on her tiny shoulders. He smiled at her, and for the first time since she saw her mom’s lifeless body lying next to her on the ship’s deck, she felt a sense of peace grab at her. Officer Dolan brought her with him to the station-house

After reporting in and signing out and checking as much as anyone could in 1906, Julia was declared an orphan. But this orphan was not going to an orphanage. Paddy Dolan brought her home.

Paddy’s wife, Aileen, a wee wisp of a gal from County Galway in Ireland, could not have children. Paddy and Aileen adopted Julia, and she became Julie Dolan. She grew up to be a teacher, married a man named Tommy O’Rourke, (also a policeman), and they had three children, two boys and a girl. The girl was named Viola.

On Thanksgiving day, 1951, Julia, her daughter Viola, and Viola’s four-year-old daughter, Karen, went to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. They stood in the crowd at 63rd Street and Central Park West, and, as Santa passed by, Viola suggested that they go to the Squire’s Restaurant a few blocks away and get some hot chocolate.

Karen was holding Rachel, Julia’s doll. Karen loved the doll and, in a moment of weakness, grandma Julia had allowed her to take the doll with her to the parade. Rachel had not been out of the house in over forty years.

They sat in a booth, sipping their hot chocolate, and Karen placed Rachel on the table. Julia reached over and fingered the doll lovingly.  Suddenly a man stood by their table. He was old and weathered and quite nervous. Julia turned her head and looked up at him. Instantly, a chill ran down her spine. The man pointed to the doll and nervously said, “Excuse me…is..is that doll’s name, Rachel?”

Not seeing her mother turning pale, Viola looked at him and answered, “Why yes, how could you know such a thing?”

As tears fell from the old man’s eyes, he looked at Julia and softly said, “Is it really you, Shkutabella?”

Julia jumped from her seat and threw her arms around the old man. “Oh Poppa,  Poppa, Poppa.  I can’t believe it. Yes, it is. It is. It is ME.”

 

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Copyright©Larry Peterson2021


A President, a Kid from the Bronx, and a moment in Time

John F. Kennedy                                   en-wikipedia.org

By Larry Peterson

 “The president is dead.”  For those of us who heard those words from more than 50 years ago, they were unforgettable. They seared into our brains like letters sand-blasted into a granite headstone forever: clear, concise, and unmistakable in meaning. How could this be? Things like this did not happen, especially in the America of 1963. But then, a few days later, John-John, wearing his little topcoat and short pants, saluted as the flag-covered caisson went by, holding his dad’s body. It was a moment that would never be forgotten.

I had a personal connection to John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Just like when I heard of his death, those moment(s) are also seared into my brain, and their memories are as clear and vivid as if they happened ten minutes ago. The only difference is these are MY moments with JFK. No one else ever had these moments. They were unplanned and spontaneous, just the 35th President of the United States and me; at the time, age 15. And I do not care if you believe me or not. I just felt that I should share. Let us go back to November 5, 1960.

The most famous hotel in the Bronx was the Concourse Plaza Hotel located on 161st Street and the Grand Concourse. Opened in 1922, it was an elegant 12-story hotel three blocks from Yankee Stadium. Many of the Yankees had stayed there, including Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and others. The hotel had a grand ballroom and fancy dining rooms. On Saturday, November 5, 1960, Senator John F. Kennedy delivered a campaign speech at the hotel. His fateful election to the presidency was now only four days away.

I had an after-school job delivering groceries and stocking shelves for Harry “the Grocer”. I worked for Harry every day after school until 6 p.m. and on Saturdays from 10 a.m. until 6 p.m. One of my frequent delivery stops was the Concourse Plaza Hotel. Several elderly tenants lived there year round, and they always called Harry when they needed anything from bread to fruit to bologna to beer to Band-Aids or whatever else a customer might want. I would bag up the items, load them into a cart, and push it up the two hills to the hotel. I would go there at least twice a week, sometimes more.

I had made a delivery to a customer on the eighth floor on Friday, and she told me that Senator Kennedy was coming in the morning to give a speech. She was very excited about it and told me she would make sure she was down in the ballroom when he arrived. She said she thought he was going to be there at 10 o’clock. I had to start work at 10 o’clock, and I was quite disappointed that I might miss my chance to see the Senator. Then things changed.

That Friday night, I saw my friend ‘Sticks’ (real name Tommy) and told him about JFK coming to the hotel in the morning. He said we should go up there about 9 a.m. and see what happens. It made sense to me, so that is what we did. I do not remember why but we did not get up to the hotel until about 9:30. We came up to the hotel through the rear loading dock, which was off 162nd Street. That was where I always came in to make deliveries. I knew my way around the back and basement of the hotel like the back of my hand. It was a bit strange because there were no cars or trucks, or anything or anyone for that matter, at the rear of the hotel. The overhead doors for truck deliveries were closed, and the only way in was through a door up some stairs at the end of the loading dock.

‘Sticks’ hurried ahead of me and went through the door. I was not as quick, so it took me about an extra half minute to reach the door. By the time I did, ‘Sticks’ had disappeared. I hurriedly walked down a short corridor and made a left. I can remember that it was quite dark. I made the turn and bumped into someone. I froze dead in my tracks. Then I stepped back a bit.

The man I had walked into, who was now looking me in the eye, was Senator Kennedy. We were less than a foot apart. He had finished his speech and was leaving via the rear entrance. There was another man with him. That was it. No one else was there. Just me, John F. Kennedy, and some other guy. The other man stepped near me and said, “Excuse us, son.”  I said nothing and stepped back some more. Senator Kennedy smiled at me and said, “Good to see you. Did you hear my speech?”

“Uh…uh…no, we just thought we might get to see you.”

The next President of the United States laughed a little and said, “Well, I think you were successful. Here I am, and now I have to leave. Nice seeing you.”  Then he and his friend exited the door that led to 162nd Street.

The rear stairwell was right in front of me, so I ran up a half flight to a platform and opened the big window. I looked out, and below me and maybe 30 feet away, the next President of the United States was standing next to a limo, just talking to the man he had left the hotel with. There were no police, no guards in the street, no one else.

There I was, alone, staring out the window at John F. Kennedy. He was wearing a dark blue topcoat that had to be very expensive, and his face had a perfect tan, something you do not see in New York City in November. His thick, sandy hair was blowing slightly, and he ran his right hand up and across it. Then it happened. He looked up at me, smiled (I can still see his teeth) and held up his hand. He did not wave it. Instead,  he just held it up with his fingers spread apart. He probably held it up for about two or three seconds.

He was saying goodbye to ME, a kid from the South Bronx who just happened to be there at that moment. I held up my right hand to him, and I guess I smiled. I don’t remember. Then he got into his limo and was gone. I watched as my new friend’s car turned onto the Grand Concourse. Talk about a “moment in time”.

“Hey, what are you doing?”  I turned and ‘Sticks’ was at the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t see him,” he said. “Did you?”

“Yes, I did.”


INFANTICIDE has only one meaning; the act of killing an infant

A person is a person, no matter how small

By Larry Peterson

Freedom Tower was illuminated in pink to celebrate legalizing infanticide

In January 2019, New York State passed its own RHA (Reproductive Health Act). Amidst hoots, hollers, .and the Freedom Tower illuminated in pink, the “devout” Catholic governor of N.Y, signed the bill into law. Today, to the delight of many, infanticide is legal in N.Y. State.

Many people in our supposed civilized society have moved into a different universe. They have embraced the legal execution of our most vulnerable children (babies are children). We have moved from killing them from conception to killing them born full-term and breathing on their own. No matter the size, kill them if you wish, no problem.

These tiny people are just like us, only smaller.

As the parents of a daughter who was stillborn on September 6, 1978, my wife and I were fully aware of the LIFE that we had lost. Loretta (who passed away from cancer in 2003) almost died that day in a valiant attempt to get to a Catholic hospital so her baby would be baptized. That is a story for another time, but we both understood the insanity of treating tiny people in-utero as nothing more than “products of conception” or “blobs of tissue.” They are no such thing. They are people, just like us–only a lot smaller.

Our two-pound daughter was named Theresa Mary, and she is buried with my parents in Gate of Heaven Cemetery outside New York City. She was a person who lived and died. And her mother, who never saw her or held her was willing to die for her, unseen and unheard. Her actions exemplify what respecting God-given life is all about. It is the ultimate act of love and unselfishness. Secularism does not understand this. It never will.

Many people accept the undeniable truth that life is a precious gift from God.  This belief is backed by science. Life is life, no matter how big and no matter how small. No life belongs to another, and the fact that a child needs a mother’s womb to grow changes nothing. That child is unique and special with its own DNA, character, and personality. That little person has as much right to live as do any of us, no matter what age.

63 million lives snuffed out since 1973

We live with the infamous Supreme Court ruling of Roe vs. Wade passed in 1973. Since then, over 63 million little lives have been snuffed out under the guise of “reproductive rights.” No one has ever taken away a woman’s right to reproduce. The fact that seven men voted for a law that allows a woman to destroy her child does not make it right. Far from it, it has allowed for an ongoing abomination.

What is so astonishing is that so many folks do not see anything wrong with participating in a holocaust that has claimed more than sixty million lives. Most of these people seem to be no different than anyone else. They work, pay their bills, mow their lawns, and celebrate Thanksgiving and the Fourth of July. Yes, and they go to church and pray too. I do NOT understand. Whatever have we wrought?

Having laid out those thoughts, I now go back to an article from Catholic Online from 2017.  It is about the former “champion of abortion,” Stojan Adasevic. Throughout 26 years, this man performed 48,000 abortions, sometimes as many as 35 a day. Then, miraculously, he became the most important and influential pro-life leader in Serbia.

He saw the human heart beating and beating and thought he would go mad

What happened to him is well worth paying attention to. ‘Stojan’s conversion came about from an experience he had in performing what would be his final abortion.  These are the words of Stojan after that termination procedure:

“As I pull out the mess, thinking it will be bone fragments I lay it on the cloth, I

look, and I see a human heart, contracting and expanding and beating, beating, beating.

I thought I would go mad. I can see the heartbeat is slowing, ever more slowly, and 

more slowly still, until it finally stops completely. Nobody could have seen what I

had seen with my very own eyes, and be more convinced than I was—

I had killed a human being.

 The man he saw was Thomas Aquinas

After that, Stojan had an ongoing dream where children were playing and laughing but ran away when they saw him because they feared him. There was a man in the dream. He was dressed in black and white, and when Stojan asked him who he was, he told him he was Thomas Aquinas. Suffice it to say that Stojan Adasevic has told his story throughout Europe. He  returned to the Orthodox faith and became a student of St. Thomas Aquinas.

It is now November 2021. The following link directs to abortion laws by state. It  was taken from U.S. News from September 1, 2021.

The master of lies and deception is waging war

In the war being waged by Satan, the master of lies and deception, his influence is so significant and the deception so pronounced it takes many years of flowing graces from God before the light begins to enter the darkness. We must continue to pray as hard as we can until this scourge against human life is stopped.

Two major cases (one from Texas and one from Mississippi) dealing with abortion are scheduled to be heard in the United States Supreme Court. So let us pray every day for the sanctity of life to be upheld.  Prayer is the most potent weapon we have, and we MUST  defend the smallest of the small.

Human rights are not a privilege conferred by the government. They are every human being’s entitlement by virtue of his humanity.

Mother Teresa

copyright©larry Peterson 2021