Saturday, September 19, 2026

Reflections

 I had originally started to do some reflections earlier this morning, but then decided to start over, so here we are.  I am not sure where this particular discussion is going to go, so just enjoy the ride today. 

I am in the process of reading up on some Catholic resources regarding dream interpretation, and there are woefully few of them.  As a matter of fact, the Christian market in general tends to not have a lot devoted to this topic, as many of the books on it that are out there tend to either be from hyper-Pentecostals or New Agers and occultists, with some secular Jungian psychology thrown in.  I have two books in particular I wanted to look at once I have them, as well as some notes from a Catholic priest, Fr. Chris Alar, that did some teaching on the topic too, so once I do I want to tackle the topic myself.  I tend to believe in the significance of dreams, as they often tell us things about our own inner thoughts that we either don't face up to or maybe don't fully understand.  Not every dream is a message from God either obviously, as I am of the belief that many dreams are just our way of coping with those times in life when we have stress and anxiety.  However, that does not rule out the possibility of spiritual significance in some dreams either, and I have had some dreams that told me some things too.  I won't get into all that here, but within the next week or two I will have a more detailed discussion on the topic. 

As I write this, I am in a bit of a state of flux myself.  Have you ever been on that verge of something to happen, but the wait is excruciating for it?  That is kind of where I am right now, and it is about to get on my last nerve in all honesty.  I won't go into details of the specifics on this, but I am waiting on some news for some things, and if you don't mind doing so, for those reading this just keep me in your prayers.  Thanks for that, and in time I may share some retrospection on it all, but for now I am not sure of a few details myself so I can't really say much.  

I wanted to talk about a movie I watched last night.  It is an old movie, and it is one many are familiar with probably as it was released in 1996 and titled Matilda.  The movie had an all-star cast, including Rhea Perlman, Danny DeVito, the young actress Mara Wilson, and even Pee Wee Herman (Paul Reubens) makes an appearance as a cop.  The plot of the movie is this young girl, Matilda, who is born into a family of idiots - the father, Harry, is a crooked car salesman, while the mother, Zinnia, is a self-absorbed bingo-obsessed bored housewife.  The couple could care less about Matilda, as she is essentially just an unwanted addition to the home, and she is often neglected and diminished by her parents (who don't even know her actual age).  In her solitude though, little Matilda develops her mental abilities quickly, with a real hunger for reading in particular, and for a young girl her age she shows a remarkable self-sufficiency.  Due to the selfish neglect of her parents, Matilda doesn't even get to go to school yet but she teaches herself things and advances even without the benefit of formal education.  Then one day, her dad sells a car to this nasty big woman named Trunchbull, who happens to be the principal at an academy, and for a deal on the car Harry the dad agrees to enroll Matilda in the school. Matilda at first is overjoyed, but that fades quickly when the extent of tyranny Trunchbull rules the school is on full display.  However, the bright spot in this story is a pretty and very sweet young teacher, Miss Honey, who immediately takes an interest in Matilda and helps her to focus the intelligence she has, and in the process they grow close.  However, a sub-plot to this is that Trunchbull is actually Miss Honey's step-aunt, and the tragic story of that was that her father died under mysterious circumstances and "Aunt Trunchbull" gained custody of the young girl but was abusive to her.  As the movie progresses, Matilda's parents become targets of an investigation (her ditzy mom thinks the FBI agents staking out their house are speed boat salesmen, although Matilda knows better) and justice is eventually meted out to Trunchbull for her sins and she is forced to leave the school.  Miss Honey then becomes principal, then adopts Matilda (her parents were more than happy to do that), and the school turns around almost overnight.  The movie itself is really cute, and I have seen it several times over the years, but there are some lessons in it for us that I think carry significant value, so our discussion will pivot to that today. 

Matilda is a picture of many of us - we face adversities where those who should be the closest to us are often the ones who are quick to isolate and dismiss us.  However, rather than being a punishment, the isolation caused by adversity can be an important teacher for us, as it helps us to really lean into our own unique strengths.  The part I omitted was that Matilda's expanding mind also allowed her to have some very unique powers, and that played a role in bringing justice both to Trunchbull and her deadbeat parents.  Obviously, we are not able to make things move at the point of a finger like Matilda did as a special power, but we can cultivate other talents even when people don't recognize them.  When I watch that movie as a matter of fact, I also see a lot of myself in it, as I was a kid who achieved much despite adversities in life.  Likewise, we all encounter the Trunchbulls - those people who threaten us because they either don't understand us or they have an agenda and we pose a threat to them.  In more real-life terms, I call the Trunchbulls I face "gate-keepers," as they are always creating obstacles to impede or prevent progress.  The key to overcoming those is not to fight them, but to strategically know how to target their weaknesses, and to use our own strengths to outshine them.  The Miss Honeys are also in our lives too, and those are the people who do believe in us and are our encouragers and cheerleaders.  They are an integral part in the role they play to helping us be our better selves.  It is also possible that in some aspects of our lives, we are the Matildas, but in other aspects we are the Miss Honeys.  And, to be completely honest, some of us have the potential to be Trunchbulls too.   A few think they are being a Miss Honey when in reality they are actually being Trunchbulls - we see that now in the current Vatican leadership, and it is a factor in some decisions I am in the process of making too.  The best way though to get rid of a "gate-keeper" is to dismantle the "gate" from which they draw their power, and smart warfare mandates that we do this as the best course of action, as often the "gate-keeper" will destroy us if we take them on head-on.   Bottom line, a young Matilda has the potential of growing into either a Miss Honey or a Trunchbull, so it is up to the formation of that young Matilda to choose the right way.  We all start out as Matildas in some aspect for sure, but what we blossom into depends on how we overcome adversities and other things.  That is a major lesson I draw from this.

I like watching movies to get ideas, although I am also just entertained as a good movie on occasion is a nice diversion from the rigors of life.  However, on occasion that idea finds you, and when it jumps out at you, it is important you grab it.  Culture is designed - when it is appreciated properly - to create inspiration in others.  Literature, film, music...they can all stimulate ideas and inspiration.  And, a whole lesson can come from watching a movie like Matilda, even if it isn't the original intended message of the movie itself.  In the future I will probably add more insights like this as well.

Thank you for allowing me to share, and will see you next time. 

Friday, September 18, 2026

God's Promises, and What to Pray For

 This is a sort of challenging lesson to share, as it does entail a few things that I have struggled with at times, but I think people need to hear it.  I know that many people are familiar with the ramblings of televangelists "claiming" this and that "in Jesus's Name" all the time, and as they do so often they are talking about some pretty extravagant stuff - one, Jesse DuPlantis, even swore that "God told him" to get a $40 private jet.   And, of course those of us old enough to remember the televangelist scandals of the late 1980s remember some of that stuff too - Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker's air-conditioned doghouse, Oral Roberts saying "God was going to call him home" from the top of a tower if he didn't raise millions of dollars, and other such antics.  Much of that stuff starts out with a Bible verse, and then with some esoteric nonsense from the New Thought movement and other sources, it gets twisted into what is called the "Prosperity Gospel," or as its detractors call it, "Blab it and Grab it."  For a short time in my early 20s, I was mildly involved with some of that too, as I used to listen to people like Kenneth Copeland and Benny Hinn, and I even got to see the granddaddy of that movement, Kenneth Hagin, in person at a meeting he held in Ozark, Alabama, back in 1990.  However, when you see the futility of that garbage, you quickly come to understand how harmful it is - I mean, seriously, if that crap worked, then why aren't the parking lots of the megachurches that preach that stuff filled with Porsches and Rolls Royces?  Likewise, with all the inconsistencies and scandals that happen in those circles, one would think that people would catch on to the con, but they don't - "Christian TV" is still as popular today as it was 40 years ago, and variations of the same nonsense are still out there.  However, instead of the "old guard" like Marilyn Hickey, Benny Hinn, Morris Cerullo,  John Avanzini, Kenneth Hagin, and Oral Roberts (the majority of whom are now deceased), a new group of snake-oil salesmen are out there with an even more blatant display - people like Joel Osteen, Kathryn Krick, Steve Furtick, Todd Bentley, Paula White, and that Bethel crowd.  And, when they become old and pass away, provided Christ tarries long enough, there will be another group of these who will pop up like bad weeds in a cornfield, and they keep reproducing themselves.  Observing this though, a question popped into my mind based upon a position I take in studying stuff like this - is there any truth to what these people say, or is it completely a lie?  And, if there is truth, how do we peel away the nonsense to get to it?  That is what I wanted to talk about today, and hopefully this helps someone else who has been through the wringer of life as I have many times. 

I have talked some in my Genesis study (which is now available as a book on Amazon if you are interested) about something called euhemerism.  Euhemerism is a position that presupposes essentially that at the root of every mythology is a fact that inspired the myth.  From a Christian perspective, this is the view that proves that the Flood legends of many cultures are indeed fact, because they confirm a central truth in Scripture that there was a great Flood - cultures from the Maya to the Chinese have flood legends.  If it is a universal theme, then something must have been the source of the various myths and legends, and as a euhemerist myself and a historian, it is a goal to find out what that was.  There are other things too like this - dragon legends, the existence of giant races of people, etc.  The man this theory was named after was Euhemerus of Messene, and he based his theory on the fact that in Greek mythology, there are two classes of pagan deities - one is earthly, meaning they were based on actual historical figures like kings and such, and the second is a heavenly class, the Olympians, who could be observed in nature (Nickolas Roubekas, An Ancient Theory of Religion: Euhemerism from Antiquity to the Present. New York: Routledge, 2017: xv).  As this theory evolved, two varieties of it came into existence.  The first, secular euhemerism, presupposed that mythical imagery could be easily explained with natural phenomena, and the lack of a modern name for whatever it was led to the divinization of whatever the entity was.  The second, Christian euhemerism, established that many ancient myths were corrupted versions of something factual that Scripture as God's Word documented, and that the scattering at Babel of humanity is what led to a variety of interpretations and corruptions of truth.  I fall into this second camp myself.  However, the discipline of euhemerism is not only applicable to the mythologies of ancient civilizations - it can be used as a tool to discern truth behind heretical belief systems.  When approaching the "Prosperity Gospel," we must therefore do so from the perspective that it is essentially a mythology, and a corruption of actual truths.  False teachers have used a core truth to wrap corruption around ever since the serpent beguiled Eve in the Garden in Genesis 3.  Therefore, it created two problems.  For one, the falsehood far eclipsed the original truth, and people associate these teachings with complete falsehood, and rightly so.  However, secondly, it also means that a core truth is being missed because we associate language related to it with a false religious movement like the so-called "Prosperity Gospel."   Perhaps it is time to revisit those core truths, view them in their proper context, and perhaps it will help us make sense of things we experience in life.  So that is where this teaching is going.  I am probably going to be writing on this for a couple of days, so bear with me. 

In my many years of the Christian walk and also many hours of studying Holy Scripture, I have deduced that there are three things based on God's promises that we can (and indeed should) pray for.  I am just listing them here, and the Scriptural passages that back them up will come later in the discussion:

1. Protection from the destruction of adversity

2. Provision of needs

3. Direction in decisions.  

I am going to take these now one by one and elaborate upon them.

First, protection from the destruction of adversity is an integral one to understand.  We all know adversity happens - it is not adversity itself we are protected from, but rather destruction based on adversity.  The story of Job is perhaps the best illustration of this because God allowed a lot of crap to happen to Job, but he warned Satan that there were limits to what could be done.  The ultimate purpose of adversity is for growth and the development of character, and God has limits as to what can actually come against us.  It also is not a "get out of jail free" card to exempt us from sin and death, because we live in a fallen world, and ultimately every one of us will face death unless the Parousia happens.  That death can be untimely, or it could be the end of a natural process (old age), but it is inevitable.  However, the will of God is the determining factor in that - if God doesn't want you to go yet, then you won't go.  This is why divine healing is possible today and we cannot - despite some fatalistic Calvinist heresies that are more pagan than Christian - deny the fact God can heal of any disease, even the most terminal, provided he still has plans for the person suffering it on the earth.  Therefore, it is not wrong nor is it a sin to ask for healing from illness, or even deliverance from adversity - we ultimately don't know God's will, but we are given promises we can rely on for protection.  It is at this point I want to address perhaps the best-known of those promises now.

Ephesians 6:10-18 is the famous "armor of God" Scripture, and although I went in detail on that in my Ephesians study I published in 2014, it is important to understand.  As part of my daily prayer regimen, I usually "take on" the armor of God daily, and there is a significance to each piece of that armor as it regards how we are protected.  However, the key aspect of this is in verse 10, which reminds us that the armor is to protect us and enable us to stand against the enemy's schemes, and to stand despite any assault launched against us.  This pairs with another Scripture as well, that being Isaiah 54:7 - "no weapon formed against me shall prosper."  In my own prayer regimen, I combine this with the "armor of God" passage in Ephesians 6 as I pray protection over myself every day.   Notice what these passages actually say though - they are not a guarantee against spiritual or daily adversity, but they guarantee that the person will be protected from destruction from such attacks.  The promise here is that if God called you to something (and here, I reference Romans 11:29, meaning God cannot take them back once he has given those to you) then you must prevail to carry out that plan.  This is God's own promise, not mine or anyone else's - it means that when adversity hits, you have the choice to ask for protection, and you can remind God he is obligated by his own promises to provide that.  As this is the most basic promise God has made, it means that it is the one easiest to appeal to and usually that prayer is answered on a daily basis.  Again, unlike the "blab and grab" televangelists say, this does not mean that you will avoid adversity, but rather that with God's protection you will prevail against it.  And, even in the rare case God brings natural death through the adversity, the reason is that whatever God was doing in your life will impact and touch others regardless.  

The second one is the complicated one that brings a lot of controversy to people, and it also is the source for a lot of bad theology because it is misinterpreted in popular spirituality so much.  This of course is the provision of needs.  The verse for this is located in Philippians 4:19, and it says simply "God shall supply all your needs according to his riches in glory."  Focus here is on the word needs.  Because we live in a fallen world, our bodies require a lot of needs - we need shelter, food, clothing, transportation to get about, and a few other things specific to the time in history we live in, such as open communication media and such.  All over Scripture, from even as far back as Genesis 3 and the Fall, there is evidence God supplies needs - he clothed Adam and Eve in the Garden when they fell and were aware they were as naked as jaybirds, and later in Exodus he provided manna and quail in the wilderness, as well as fresh water from a rock, so the Israelites could survive in the wilderness.  Later, he provided Elijah food brought by birds when he was hiding from possible execution by Ahab after challenging the demon god Ba'al.  A little later on, his disciple Elisha fed a woman with just a little oil and flour during a famine.  Then, going back to Genesis, God gave Joseph wisdom to prepare for rough times in Egypt.  In the New Testament, we see Jesus multiplying fish and bread to feed thousands, turning water to wine to make sure party guests had refreshments, pulling a coin out of a fish's mouth to pay a tax, giving direction to Peter and the other disciples on where to cast a net to get the most fish, and on and on that goes.  These circumstances all demonstrated a need that was provided for, and thus we have every right to ask God about our needs - if you are struggling to make bills because those job offers are not calling, you have a right to ask God to help with that.  Like adversity though, needs are inevitable - without those basic necessities, our very survival could be at stake.  But, what if it seems God doesn't listen to your prayers?  Well, this is where I want to get personal in reflecting about my own circumstances at times.

First, I want to look at Genesis 32:22-32.  In this passage, Jacob was on the run from Esau, and the reckoning had finally come for them to confront each other.  Jacob was naturally scared - if he had the birthright, what would happen if his estranged brother killed his whole legacy?  Obviously having this weighing on his mind, Jacob cannot sleep that night, and is sitting by a river just pondering everything when a strange individual all of a sudden comes up and engages in a tussle with Jacob.  They fight, and fight, and fight, until the morning sun dawned on the eastern horizon.  In this struggle Jacob was prevailing, and as a sort of defense measure to gain the upper hand, the other person dislocates Jacob's hip, but Jacob refuses to let go until he is blessed.  Although Scripture says this being was an angel, there are Church traditions that talk about this as being Christ himself - remember, Christ is eternal, begotten not made, and even pre-existent before his Incarnation, so it makes sense.  The mysterious figure (Christ?) does bless Jacob, and also bestows a new name - he is no longer the "deceiver," but instead is Israel, "one who wrestles with God and prevails."  Jacob (now Israel) does not prevail of his own merit though, but because God let him.  The result?  The meeting with Esau turns into a joyful reunion, and all turns out well.  So, what does that mean personally?  This is where I want to be personal.

In my prayers over the years, I grew impatient to the point I would sometimes call God every name in the book, cussing him out, and then throwing ultimatums at him to do something.  These were times when I was on the brink of losing a home, or needed income from a job, or something else I faced.  There are these long, dead silent times where you feel God is not listening to you at all, and it does grate on the nerves a little - lest you condemn me, let me remind you that probably you have felt that way too at some point, so just "fess up" and be honest before you judge, OK?  One verse I tend to remind God of at that point is Philippians 4:19, but I also remind him of his own parables in the Gospels, particularly one that comes up in Luke 11:11 - that is the passage where it says that if a son asks for a fish, will the father give him a snake?  Or if he asks for bread, will he get a rock?  The passage then goes on to say that if a wicked father loves their kids enough to give them basic nourishment, then shouldn't our heavenly Father do even better?   I have to be honest with you - I often feel like I have been bitten by too many snakes over the years and have broken too many teeth trying to chew rocks, so it gets a bit flustering asking over, and over, and over and still meeting dead silence.  This is true especially when you are down to a bottle of water in your refrigerator and have an eviction notice sitting on your kitchen table.  I know what you are thinking too, because I have thought the same things - you know you have been a decent believer, because you tithe, you go to church regularly, and although you are not perfect, you are at least as consistent about your personal life as you are able to be, and yet you are seeing far more evil people getting blessed abundantly while with each passing day your savings trickle and those bills are coming due quickly with no resources to take care of them.   You see false teachers like Kenneth Copeland jetting around in $40 million aircraft, yet you are trying to figure out how to even afford the bus ticket to get to your work the next day.   I know - that has been me at different points in my life.  You go through a cycle - am I doing something wrong, did I miss something, or what in hell is going on??  You are drawing blanks as this stuff floods your thoughts, and it is literally driving you nuts.  You hear some TV preacher saying to "claim" things (which, conditionally, will only work if you send a thousand dollar "seed" to them - in other words, your monthly expenses) and wonder "is there a way I can actually do that which doesn't entail heresy?"  You are scared, desperate, and impatient, and finally you lash out at God because his silence is becoming intolerable and deafening.  You yell at God, you bargain with God, you put out fleeces to get answers, and nothing - you are ready to second-guess your own faith and wonder if it is even worth it to serve a God who seemingly could care less about your situation.  But, if you know Scripture, you know God makes promises, and being God is the source of ultimate truth, he cannot lie (see passages such as John 14:6, Romans 11:29, Deuteronomy 31:8, Isaiah 40:31, and of course Philippians 4:19).  So, if it is a promise he has already made, then he is obligated by covenant to fulfill it.  And, this is where some clarification is needed so you understand the proper context of what this actually means.

God said he will supply our needs and not our wants.  So, to begin, do you really need a Porsche, or do you really need a 14-room sprawling estate in Beverly Hills??  No, most of us don't.  But, we do need proper shelter, and our jobs often depend on reliable transportation.  And, if there is indeed a calling on our lives, our security with basic needs is what the salvation of souls only we can reach is contingent upon - if we are smothered in burdens, we cannot effectively do what God called us to do.  This is why God is obligated to meet basic needs for us, and to help us to get to that next level.  Now, there is anothe factor here too many don't understand.  If you hear these televangelists screaming about "claiming this" or "confessing that," they are wrong on a fundamental level - are those things they supposedly are telling you to "claim" something that fits your own abilities?  What do I mean by that?  If you have an advanced degree, a good employment record that reflects years of experience, and the talents and skills necessary to be at a certain level in your life, you deserve to have what comes with that because you actually earned it and can stake a claim to what rightfully should be yours.  If you have a background that merits you landing that $100K annual salary, then you have every right to pray and even claim that particular door to open.  And, until it does, God obligates himself to keep promises to provide for your needs.  A lot more of this also is intertwined with seeking direction too, but all three of these interrelate, which is why they are fundamental promises we have every right to ask God for.  You will hear others on the other side of the spectrum - the "humbly proud" overly-altruistic crowd - say that we should embrace suffering, and that it is "our cross to bear."  Ummm...let me put that to rest right now.  What they are talking about is the idea of "being persecuted for righteousness's sake," and it has to do with being honest and bold in the proclamation of our faith, even if it could have consequences for us.  That is actually a noble stand, and nothing wrong with that.  However, the super-altruistic crowd get it as wrong as the "blab it and grab it" bunch when they say and twist that to mean that you just roll over and accept your fate - it will be alarming to see how many souls were condemned to hell because of the failure of these people to actually have a backbone to do what Scripture says and "earnestly contend for the faith."  What we are talking about has nothing to do with the salvation of our souls and eternal destiny - these are things that affect us in the present moment, and I don't see anything in Scripture saying that it is somehow a sin to actually stand up to claim that which truly is rightfully yours if you have invested time and resources into it.  I am going to one day do a whole other study tackling fake altruism as well, because it is just as big of a problem as the "positive confession" TV preachers, and both of them have their roots in the sin of pride.  If the faux altruists really wanted to help and encourage people - and forgive the coarse language here - then they should get off their lazy, cowardly asses and maybe help out those who are really struggling and do deserve better because they earned it and maybe that is the answer God is providing.  And, that gets me off on one other thing with this.

At times when we holler at God and cuss him out in our prayers, the fact of the matter is that maybe he has answered our need, but the channels he moved upon to answer either ignored him or they are just too prideful and cowardly to step up.  I have seen a lot of that too, and it sickens me how supposed "believers" (even clergy) act when someone is really trying to reach out.  My ex Barbara had something like this happen to her recently.  She was having some serious medical issues at the time, and at the parish we attended here at Baltimore at the time she approached the Dominican friar who pastors there about it one Sunday after Mass.  I have been in parishes where, if a parishioner expresses a need for prayer for an illness, the priest drops everything and prays right there at that moment.  Fr. Grassi, our former pastor at St. James in Charles Town, WV, was like that - his heart for his parishioners was so compassionate, and he embodied what a pastor should be.  You would think that a priest in a religious order - especially a Dominican friar like the priest at this parish in Baltimore is - to even have that charism more so.  But, he didn't - when Barbara approached him about her medical issue, all he told her was that "it is your cross to bear," and then said a "God bless you," and that was it - no prayer, no compassion, no nothing.  Later, we stopped going to that particular parish for another - and related - reason, but the Dominican failed in his calling that day.  No hope, no encouragement, and not even a prayer - just a dismissive "it's your cross to bear" crap.  Especially if someone has a pastoral calling, this is unacceptable.  If you are in a church with a callous minister like that, get out now - go somewhere where the priest or minister actually cares.  I have a similar beef with these self-proclaimed "social justice warriors" as well, like the campus minister at the school where I used to teach.  For all his screaming the word "justice," this man is a fraud, and he is all about agendas and not service.  A person like that should not be a position of pastoral care of any type, lay or ordained.  While the "cross to bear" thing has some merit - yes, those exist - it also means that someone needs to be there to support an encourage you when that burden gets intense.  Even Jesus, when he was being crucified, had a humble African named Symeon of Cyrene to help him.  Where are the Symeons these days??  It seems like the Judases and hirelings are outnumbering them in the Church.  I got a bit down a rabbit trail with that, but it also illustrates that maybe on occasion our anger is misdirected at God when the very person who could be the answer to our prayers chooses not to listen - we don't know that obviously at times, and may not even know who that potential person is, but because of their failure it hits us hard too.  I know that illustrates another dimension we only see in retrospection, but you get the idea that often it feels like we are facing things alone, and God's apparent silence coupled by the lack of support from others tends to push hard against us.  There are a couple of more points I will make with this before we move onto the third promise. 

If God is calling you to be the encouragement to someone, I would strongly advise doing it.  That person may be hanging at the end of a thread right now, and you may be the answer they need.  It doesn't mean even that you have to empty your wallet and give it to them or anything like that, but maybe you have the very insight they are needing to help give that direction.  Likewise, if you are the person at the end of your rope, don't settle for less than clear direction - after all, is it not God who claims he is not the author of confusion (I Corinthians 14:33)?  If that is the case, it is God's obligation to do two things.  First, he needs to provide clear, concise direction when you do as he commanded by asking him for it.  Second, there should be no mixed signals.  I know we have heard about the "still, small voice" and all that, but in all honesty, this is not always going to cut it.  That "still small voice" may actually be just your own thoughts and feelings, and if you act on them you are still up against a wall.  At that point the issue is not trusting God, but perhaps our own ability to clearly understand the direction, and a "still small voice" at that point is not practical.  God does do the "still small voice," but it is dependent upon the situation as to whether it is clear or not.  And while of course both Christ himself and  St. Paul chided the Jews of his day for "seeking after signs" (Matthew 16:4, 12:39, and I Corinthians 1:22), it must be understood that we are still living a corporeal existence, and sometimes a small sign may be the only thing that shows us what we need.  I believe in all honesty that the aforementioned verses about that were speaking more to two other things - first, the validity of Jesus as the Messiah, and secondly, the almost idolatrous reliance upon the supernatural that some hyper-Pentecostals display at times today - than to just a simple bit of needed direction.  We all need a sign to direct us - that is what that red octagonal stop sign at the end of your street is all about - or else we could be steered wrong.  A true believer will want to make sure they are flawlessly on-point, as deviating from the plan could be catastrophic.  So, asking for a tangible sign of direction is not the issue, and it is indeed OK to ask for that.  And, keep wrestling with God until you get it - you are a human being with limits, so it is OK to get a bit frantic in your prayers because you are being honest.  I believe that if we understood all this better, it would make living out our faith far less complicated.  We don't have to "act holy" to talk to God, in other words - we come to him as we are because he should already know us anyway since he created us.  And that leads to something else I wanted to address.

I have gotten into watching the videos of this lady named Kaziah Hancock.  Kaziah was someone I learned of years ago on Doris Hanson's online podcast "What Love is This," and much like Doris, Kaziah comes from a polygamous Mormon Fundamentalist background but she also came to know Christ and is a committed Christian today.  The main thing Kaziah is noted for is her artwork - she has done some beautiful portraits of unsung heroes in the military, police forces, and other service roles, and if I am correct about this she donates those to the people's families.  However, Kaziah is no sanctimonious Mother Teresa type, nor does she claim to be  - when she speaks, it is real, and sometimes it is a bit rough for many ears as she is not shy about using a cuss word or two when she gets fired up about something.  To be honest, I find that quality refreshing, and thankfully in this day and age it seems as if sincere Christians are actually not caring about how things are said, as sometimes the truth is not pretty and couched in Elizabethan "thees" and "thous."  It is almost as if we have to in order to get the message across, and that is why I am not really that dogmatic about a little coarse language on occasion when it is spoken by Christians, and I am doing that myself when the occasion warrants too.  Of course, when you were raised in a culture where saying the word "ass" meant you were hell-bound or something (even if it was out of the Bible and in reference to a donkey), it is a bit of a shock to the system at first, but then you see the heart of where it is coming from, and you find yourself resonating with it.  The imposed puritanical piety of the past is not something that necessarily denotes holiness, as even some great saints of the Church had some behavior some would consider crass and inappropriate - the great Doctor of the Church, St. Athanasius, for instance, had no qualms with knocking the heretic Arius on his keister at a Church council.  And, let's not even get into that eccentric class of Eastern saints called the Yurodivi (Holy Fools).  Some of the things they said and did would scare the ever-loving out of the most straight-laced Baptist church lady in the South.  But, the Church recognized them as saints.  I kind of see Kaziah as a sort of Protestant Yurodivi, and I mean that with the highest level of respect - we need more like her, in all honesty.  If you get the chance, look up her videos on YouTube and check her out for yourself - you will learn something if you do, and it will be a good thing.

Let us move onto the third promise now, that being direction.  Direction is something we are commanded to seek in the Bible itself.  We are told in Psalms for instance that the Lord is "a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path" (Psalm 119:105).  Of course, for those of us who grew up in the 1970s and 1980s, the first thing that comes to mind with that verse is that song based on it by Amy Grant, and that is probably the only way some people learned it (Kind of like one version of the Salve Regina in the Mass - many associate that with Whoopie Goldberg's rhythmic performance in Sister Act). This verse is the reliance of the psalmist on divine guidance, and it is just the start.  Another verse along those lines is this one in Matthew 6:33, which says "seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you."  This too is often committed to memory via a Maranatha chorus based on the verse that came out in the 1970s.  Then, there is this one - Psalm 37:23, which affirms that "the steps of a righteous man are ordered by God."   The other one is a more physical example in the Gospels with the story of St. Peter walking on water - direction is the key component here too.  Proverbs 11:14 also is integral here about tangible direction - it admonishes us that the abundance of good counsel is guaranteed safety.  What does this all mean?  It means that seeking counsel and direction from God is not only a promise he gave, but also a command - we are admonished all over Scripture to be dependent upon God.  So, if he commanded it, promised to give it to us, and it has been understood in that context for the 2000 years of the Church's existence, it means that like Jacob in Genesis we have the sanction to demand that God honor the promise HE made to give us direction, and we can challenge him without being considered an apostate by those self-righteous souls who would take issue with that honest contention.  So, yes, it is perfectly within reason to demand God give us direction, and a tangible sign he's listening if necessary.  We can also ask for counsel to come to us, or who to seek out for it, and that is part of the promise and the command too. I would honestly think that God would be more prone to answer a request like that because we are doing exactly as he asked, and not relying on ourselves but rather seeking him for the answer.  But, it isn't that easy - God's silence can be deafening, and even the well-intentioned reassurances of others that when God is silent he is working the most doesn't cut it when a rent payment is looming and you need an answer yesterday.  And, as human beings, we lose patience - we don't need to apologize for that either, as it is just how we are wired and created.  Therefore, if you are seeking that direction, continue wrestling with God as Jacob did to get it, because you are just staking claim to his promises. 

Now, before wrapping up, let's talk about "claiming" a bit.  Is it right to "claim" something?  If you turn on TBN, Daystar, or some other religious channel, you hear people like Kenneth Copeland and Creflo "Cashflow" Dollar screaming at you to just "claim it!"  What do they mean?  In their less-than-honorable and problematic declarations, they are talking about what is called verbal manifestation - this means if you speak it, you can speak it into existence.  That is something only God is capable of, and it is part of a non-Christian heretical esotericism that the Bible itself does not teach.  Of course, people who do teach this use the verse in Hebrews 11:1, which says that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."  Because of that, it takes some enigmatic thing called "the force of faith" to speak things into existence.  This is another reason why much of this "prosperity gospel" stuff is also called "Word of Faith," because that is where they get this from.  It ties into other weird esoteric practices that hyper-charismatics have baptized from New Thought and the occult too, such as "affirmations," or statements that say essentially you are this, or that, or the other - it also promotes self-deification as often these affirmations are preceded by the words "I am," and that is a core concept of people like Joel Osteen and also bears affinity with self-help gurus like Oprah too, and it is totally unbiblical and heretical.  But, can we claim anything?  Let's deal with that.

If you stake a claim to anything, be it in a religious context or even a more practical legal context like property law, one thing is clear - is their some interest or right to the claim to make it valid?  As a paralegal, I used to work on cases that dealt with that issue to some degree, and in all honesty you have no right to claim anything unless there is a specific clause that says you can.  That being said, I personally believe that if you have earned the right to something, you can stake a claim upon it.  This has nothing to do with the soul or eternal salvation or anything related to that, but is strictly a temporal natural law issue.  If you have worked in a certain profession for years for instance and have built up a level of competency and experience, then you have the right to be seriously considered for a position that will be qualified by your background.  If you earn a Ph.D. or other higher degree, you are not required to settle for less - you have claimed a place at a bigger table, and you have the right to go after positions that merit your credential.  On God's terms, it makes a very real application to the verse in James 2:17 and 2:26, which says faith without works is dead.  It means that if you are to ask for something, you should do so in confidence knowing it is what you qualify for.  While God can definitely give direction for a new vocation - and we should ask him for that - it should not be a descent into confusion when you have to settle for less than what you are worth.  Therefore, if you have earned that opportunity, stake the claim on it - this is rightly "claiming" what now you can actually lay claim to.  It is something that is earned, deserved, not contingent upon your soul's salvation, and meets the needs you have, and by all means God is obligated by his promises to give you the direction to stake that claim, and then provide the way to achieve it.  And, that is not the same as the garbage Benny Hinn and others spout about "naming and claiming" things you are not realistically entitled to.  I hope that clears some issues up.

I know this was lengthy, very frank, and it also was something I believe people need to hear.  Take it as you will, and hopefully something in this will be liberating to someone who reads it.  Thanks again, and will see you next time. 

Tuesday, September 15, 2026

Memory Lane Meanderings Continued - High School in TA

 I wanted to wrap up my reminisces of Terra Alta and my high school years, and we'll start by first talking about how we got there.

I mentioned that Mom had been a live-in caretaker for an 88-year-old man named Webby in the community of Mannheim, just across the Cheat from Rowlesburg, beginning around March of 1986.  Webby was ailing and in steep decline, and would pass away only a couple of months later - it was a shame because he was a nice man and I saw first-hand how he suffered then and it was heartbreaking to see.  Any rate, Webby's son-in-law who lived just up the street, Earl, had a mother who at that time was around 93 years old named Myrtle, and he needed a caretaker for her too and thought Mom would be perfect for that.  So, a couple of weeks after Webby's passing, Mom went up to Myrtle's first - Myrtle lived a few miles north of town on Salt Lick Road, closer to the community of Terra Alta than to Rowlesburg, and being I had to finish out a school year I decided to stay at Earl and his wife Dot's house in Mannheim until I finished school.  When my freshman year finished, I moved up with Mom to Myrtle's house on Salt Lick, and at first it was not a good experience, but in time I would settle in and it would lead to three of the best years of my life.  

The first impression of our new place up there on Salt Lick was how remote it really was.  While only a few miles from Terra Alta, it seemed like a world away.  The house was situated on about 10 acres of farmland that Earl owned, but Myrtle's POA was Earl's younger sister Opal, who lived closer.  Opal would come down about once a week to take Mom and Myrtle to the store, and that outing proved to be a highlight during those summer months.  I did have a little break in the monotony then as that summer we had both a VBS at the Baptist church I was part of in Rowlesburg, and later in the summer I was given a week at a church summer camp in the central part of the state near the town of Cowan.  However, the isolation of our new house initially was a bit rough for me to get used to, and I was wondering how I would survive the summer months there.  Thankfully all of that would soon change, as starting school at East Preston that September for my sophomore year turned out to be a good thing.  Once I started school there, I got involved in the high school band, in the German club, as well as also keeping myself busy with church as I launched into activities with my new Baptist church in Terra Alta - within a short time, I was also teaching a Sunday School class and would also come to be involved in leadership.  Church and school band were my social life essentially then, but a lot of other important things would begin to happen as well. 

The school year of 1986-1987 went off without a hitch, and I really found my place and was able to fit in well.  The following summer there - 1987 - was much better as I was able to really explore a lot of things.  What I remembered most about the summer then was how I could get out of the house, explore the surrounding area, and I got back into wildcrafting again as well as beginning to experiment with cooking.  That, and my musical tastes as well evolved somewhat as I began to really get into Stravinsky, Copland, and some other serious music along with my big band hobby, and I also forayed into gospel music as well - Black Gospel particularly.  Summer 1987 was good, in other words.  However, my junior year of high school - 1987-1988 - would also be an important year then as I was also introduced to the Armenians and Assyrians, as well as developing a very strong interest in Byzantine and Russian history.  Much of what would shape me as an adult would happen during the three years I lived on Salt Lick, and also Myrtle grew on me as well.  "Myrt" as we called her became a sort of new grandmother to me, and I really bonded closely with her during those years and that could be a whole other story in itself.  Summarily though, my high school years were good.

When I got to the summer of 1988, then I was able for the first time in about 10 years to go visit Dad - he got me a plane ticket and I was able to go to Georgia with him for two weeks.  I had my first summer job there too, as I was helping Dad with his business - he was in home construction, and I learned how to install drywall and a few other practical skills while earning a few bucks in the process.  It was also my first trip to Silver Springs in Florida, and little did I know that just four years from that point I would actually be living there, as my future mother-in-law had a home there.  However, at this point I was still in high school, getting ready for college, and all that was on my mind was the future I planned to have.  A part of me misses some of that great optimism and excitement I had then, and I even envy high school seniors today who have that same feeling - you feel like the world is yours and that you want to grab any opportunity out there.  Of course, when reality sets in later, it can be sobering, but the optimism and hope are nice feelings.  Let me reflect on that a bit as it has a lot to do with this period in my life.

I often miss a lot about my younger days, especially when I look at how much older I truly am now.  Many of the people who were part of my life then are now long gone - they passed away in increasing numbers over the past 25 years or so.  I've lost many friends, family, teachers, and even a few classmates from those days, and it is at times a sober reminder that I am not immortal either, at least in this body.  I remember so many good things about those years - one perhaps was the excitement of getting a lot of mail then.  While I had limited funds to actually order and pay for things, I did have a pen, a good knack for writing, and eventually I even found an old beat-up typewriter I put to use.  At that time I was into my newfound Christian faith, and was determined to become "super-Baptist."  So, I was writing practically every Baptist denomination I could think of, and ended up with a banker's box full of literature.  I think I was probably one of the first kids in my high school to actually do a Social Studies fair project on American Baptists, and I placed.  I almost placed a few years earlier when I was a freshman in Rowlesburg, as I made quite the impression on the judges with my work on American big bands I did.  Had I not contracted the flu then and missed the finalist display I placed in, I could have probably won that - but I still placed, so that is what mattered.  My Baptist project did well too, as I ended up with I believe a second-place in that, so I didn't complain.  The Social Studies fairs then were a way to basically put into a focused project your personal interests, and in doing so it meant you were also applying knowledge you gained.  In college, I would do this more, as a stack of term papers, portfolios, and a dissertation all bound in volumes behind where I am sitting now testify.  This provides a good point for a segue way, so let's chase that momentarily.

Over the years, I have often been accused of being a packrat or a hoarder as I keep anything and everything of significance.  Had water damage and some other things not happened in Kirby, I would have probably saved a lot more than I did too.  I save every letter, every card, every calendar, every journal, every school project, etc., and I have them all organized into binders in bins either in my closet here now or under my bed.  The cumulative amount of that I have saved currently fills about 15  8-gallon bins, and additionally I have taken to publishing bound volumes of school projects I have done over the years as well as even these blogs.  While it does sound a bit hoarder-like, in reality it isn't as I only preserve those things of significance - there is a lot of rich memory in old cards and letters, and more technical information in tax, school, employment, and medical documentation I have hung onto as well. While living here in Baltimore, I don't have the access to the bins as conveniently as I used to have, as it is a bit of work dragging them out and adding stuff to them, so any recent documentation over the past couple of years I am organizing in a file box to put into the designated binders later.  I have also inherited a lot of Mom's and Dad's records as well since they passed on, and have those organized also.  All of those bound record volumes will be placed in a large cabinet once I am settled in a more permanent housing location, and they will stay there for a long time to come.  At this point, I wanted to explain how a file system works for me.

I am a big believer in having a sort of personal archive of any and all documentation, and my go-to choice of housing is a large, fire-proof metal cabinet.  A fire-proof, weather-proof cabinet serves as a sort of informal vault, and when I was in Hagerstown I had two of them for just this purpose, as well as two others for my music collection.  The unfortunate circumstance of our move necessitated leaving them behind, which was a tragic loss in all honesty, but I had little choice.  In the future, there are stipulations for a cabinet system like this I will implement.  For one, the cabinets must be on wheels and readily mobile - if I have to rent a house for much longer, this is a wise idea because it will eliminate a lot of logistic headaches.  I am also planning on at least two of these in the future - one will be for the record binders I have tax histories, employment and medical records, etc., stored in, as well as placing my small safe in it too.  The second cabinet will be strictly for photo albums and journal books, as there are many more of those.  Being I am now the unofficial custodian of all of Mom's and Dad's old pictures, as well as a growing collection of my own, they need to be housed properly.  I want to eventually created digitalized records as well, as I would love to scan everything onto flash drives to store safely in case I need them.  As I begin to transition from blogging and journaling to working on the life story project, I am also planning on eventually creating content sheets for each of my binders and really organizing them properly.  This will be a monumental project in itself, but it needs to be done.  I also want a section in one of the cabinets for all my family and local history books too, as right now they are on a bookshelf but they deserve to be kept separate as they are deeply personal.  My family and local history books, my blogs, and my own published work currently occupies 80% of a four-tier small shelf behind me, and while I am not anticipating many more volumes to be added to that, they still deserve their own space though.  Those local and family history books are integral to writing my own story, which is why they deserve premium housing.  I want to eventually do a tutorial article here about how to organize a file system based on my method, and I think that would be a good resource especially for those who are interested in their own family histories.   I divulged a lot of my personal planning here, and if you are reading this and are wondering where the hell I am going with all that, it does connect to the memory lane strolls too - those "strolls" would not be possible without meticulous record-keeping, in all honesty.  One's memory - even for the best of us - can only go so far and you need to access work that directly relates to the topic, and in constructing background information for what I share with you here, it is reliant upon many local sources of which I may do a historiography on later to give an idea of how to research local history as I have.  And, that leads to some further thoughts.

When other people publish work, it can be a valuable resource for providing a background to your own, and your work in turn may fill in some gaps for someone else.  I rely on a pretty extensive shelf of family histories, local histories, and books on topics of local interest to supplement my own thoughts, as it does help.  There are some things, for instance, I may have been too young to recall details on, so works like that help tremendously.  Also, the availability of online resources is good too, and I have greatly utilized those.  If an online source has some significance, I tend to also print it out and GBC it as its own book as a good fingertip reference if necessary, and I have amassed a few volumes of those as well.  Given I am the type of person who wishes to capture everything about a topic, I do research extensively, but admittedly at times I do cut corners where I maybe shouldn't.  I am now thinking as I write this that perhaps a good guide would be in order to provide some tips on what I do to preserve research and such.  Others have done this with a degree of success, and perhaps maybe it is time I think about a more technical and practical resource as well.   I will explore that again at some point.  

At any rate, I suppose this wraps up both a memory lane meandering as well as a few insights as to how I organize information, so I feel this is a good place to conclude.  Thank you for allowing me to ramble, and we will see you again soon. 

Monday, September 14, 2026

Memory Lane Meanderings Continued - Between Kirby and Terra Alta

 One of the most integral things a person has is their memories.  I am going to spend a large part of the remainder of this year talking about some places.  I talked already about my early childhood in Kirby, and the Little Falls Chapel in Falling Waters my late step-grandmother attended, and today for some reason I wanted to just talk a little about my high school years in Terra Alta now.  This is a pivotal part of my early years, as Terra Alta was my high school period and I had a generally fond and memorable life there, including essentially adopting a whole new family (or, maybe they adopted me, who's to say?).  Any rate, I am also doing this because in a couple of years, I will be finished blogging and will be embarking on getting my life story project typed up (the draft has already been handwritten in several books so I just need to get it in print now).  One of the reasons I am doing it this way is due to a bit of uncertainty about the new chapter of life I am about to embark on - soon I will be starting a new position, and with that more than likely a move to somewhere else, so I don't want to do a whole lot with bigger projects until I eventually am settled into a more permanent place.  Where I am at now in Baltimore is meant to be temporary, as I came here to work for a season at a Jesuit high school in town and that mini-chapter of life has ended now.  As everything comes together in the coming weeks, I will elaborate more on what is happening.  But for now, we are just going to revisit some of my past years, and introduce you to some of the places I grew up.  I hope you can enjoy the ride. 

There is a bit of a back story on Terra Alta before I arrived there, and I feel that is an appropriate way to open this story.  In the summer of 1985, I had successfully completed what was two of the worst years of middle school I had ever experienced - I felt out-of-place, and faced a lot of harassment and bullying then both from popular kids as well as the more rough crowd, and I didn't feel like I fit in anywhere then.  Things had started to improve for me in the second half of my 8th grade year, but it wasn't much to really jump for joy over.  At that time, we still lived in Kirby, but during that summer after my 8th grade year completed, we faced a lot of things - bone-crushing poverty due to a drastic change in our life circumstances was a primary issue, and instinctively I started to gradually pack up stuff beginning in July 1985 because I saw the end coming.  For food during that particular summer, we relied on three things - I had gotten into making homemade drop biscuits from scratch that fed Mom and me, and supplemented that diet with food we got from the local church's food bank (thank God for First Methodist Church in Romney, as they really helped us then - I still want to send them a small financial gift one day for that), and then raiding the neighbor's gardens at night to harvest things like cabbages, cucumbers, ears of corn, and yellow squash, which we then would fry and have as a simple dinner - meat was at this point a luxury, as the store in town had cut off Mom's credit, and for some reason Mom did not even get SNAP benefits or the Community Action assistance that had helped us for many years. To put it plainly, we were suffering badly.  When you start looking at fried sliced cucumbers and fried cabbage as a feast, you know you are scraping bottom.  It finally came to a head in mid-August, when circumstances dictated a move for us, and we then moved back with my grandmother and step-grandfather, who themselves at the time were in the process of a move of their own.  We all ended up moving together to the nearby community of Baker in Hardy County, and my step-grandfather rented this really nice farmhouse from an old, cranky man.  The farmhouse itself was actually quite nice - it had a beautiful kitchen, and the upstairs was relatively comfortable too.  It was at that point I started my high school years at East Hardy High School, and come to find out, high school was much better than middle school.

The farmhouse that my step-grandfather Lonnie leased was located out a remote country road called Sauerkraut Road for some weird reason.  The house was on one side of the road, and across the way was a nice little cattle pond and a small barn where the landowner kept some cattle.  It was about midway between the towns of Rio and Baker, and it was remote from both although the surrounding countryside did have some fairly affluent houses of people who worked in DC but wanted a quiet country getaway on the weekends.   At East Hardy, two very interesting things happened.  For one, I had graduated from alto sax - which Mr. Foster had so graciously set up lessons for me - to tenor sax, and our band teacher was a very nice preacher's wife, Mrs. Funkhouser.  Her husband, interesting enough, was also my English teacher, and a Methodist minister too.  A few years back, Mrs. Funkhouser wrote her own book of memoirs about her career as a music teacher called Measure by Measure, and I have a small piece I contributed to it that she kindly asked for from many of her former students.  I also have one of my few early band pictures in there too - in the marching band then,  I played cymbals as I was still a bit rough around the gills as far as my saxophone skills went, but I did get to play tenor sax in the small studio band (a high school big band, which was heaven for me) the school had, and that was a blast.  A second thing that happened there was that I developed a massive crush on a girl named Holly - Holly was beautiful, and Mom kind of helped that along by talking her up to me because she worked with Holly's parents the previous year at a fiberglass factory there in Wardensville.   The crush on Holly had three reactions - first she thought it was cute, then she got extremely annoyed at me, and then after I poured my soul into a letter to her, we knew boundaries and respected each other.  I can't totally fault her reaction to me though, as it was to be expected, but man, did I have it bad for her!   However, I did make a close friend there I still keep in touch with today, and her name then was Michelle Gray.  Michelle was a bubbly redhead who really made me feel welcome in the school, and because we both played sax then in the band we sort of had a bond between us.  Although Michelle was a cute girl, I never had any type of romantic feelings for her as to me she was just a really good friend and I really appreciated that in a new school and all.  We continued to keep in touch for a few years after, but then just sort of lost contact as we embarked on our respective futures.  However, about 15 years ago this thing called Facebook came into existence, and we reconnected and still keep in touch even today.  Michelle I believe lives in Virginia now, where she is a happy married and successful real estate agent with a couple of grown kids of her own now.  I still keep up with Holly too on occasion - Holly married and has a nice family now, and I think she still lives in that general area.  I also think Holly has grandbabies now as well, although I could be wrong - that is hard to believe too!  East Hardy was overall a very good experience for me, but it was way too short.  There were three things that happened I will give detail on now that caused us to move, so let's get into those.

The first thing that happened was the cranky old landlord of the farmhouse, a cratchety old man named Charlie, and he told Lonnie he had to move.  I would guess that a large part of that had to do with the menagerie of animals my grandmother and him had - a ton of dogs, and an assortment of poultry outside as well as I believe a cat or two.  Plus we had our dog Jill, my cat Dora, and my grandmother had parakeets.  All of that was slightly off-putting to old Charlie, and I think too he had friends who spied on his property back there (there was suspicion about the school bus driver, an older lady named Mrs. Leatherman, whom I believe was one of Charlie's longtime friends).  So, in early November, that facilitated a move, and two subsequent things happened that made that possible. 

The first was the death of Lonnie's older brother Lee.  Lee lived in Rowlesburg, and in almost every way he and Lonnie could have been twins.  Lee had a house just across from the cemetery there, and their sister Betty lived across the street in another house.  I cannot remember all the details of how it happened, but my grandmother and Lonnie somehow got the green light to move into that house, and this would be a huge adjustment for them - this meant they couldn't keep as many animals around, and therefore they had to ask a friend in Hampshire County to take all their poultry as well as a number of their outdoor dogs.  So, yes, I remember how that went, especially trying to transport a pickup truck with its bed full of cages containing cackling chickens, quacking ducks, and honking geese at 11 at night.  When the move finally came, that was challenging as well, given Lonnie and Mom went up to Rowlesburg first and my grandmother and I were stuck in a bare house for a night waiting for them to come back for us - I remember sleeping in two chairs pulled together while my grandmother slept on a cot that was left for us.  We made the best of it, and at some point I want to also devote a story to my grandmother too, as over the years our family dynamic was interesting to say the least.  To summarize though, my grandmother could be cranky, mouthy, and loud, but when it came down to it she always looked out for me, and I recall that with great fondness.  I was actually thankful that when she finally passed away in the hospital in Winchester, VA, in 2004, Mom, Barbara, and I were there.  However, my step-grandfather's brother paled in comparison to the next event, as it affected over one million people throughout the region. 

On November 5-6, 1985, an event happened that was perhaps one of the worst disasters anyone in our state had ever faced.  A particularly strong hurricane that had struck the Gulf Coast earlier - the hurricane was the fifth of the season, named Isabel - and sent rough weather well into the Ohio Valley.  According to Bob Teets and Shelby Young in their 1985 book Killing Waters: The Great West Virginia Flood of 1985 (Terra Alta, WV:  Cheat River Publishing), on page 5 it was noted that all of the previous four hurricanes of that active season caused a cumulative damage of around $2.5 billion and had so far cost 18 American lives between them.  Although Isabel herself would go back out to sea off the east coast of Georgia, a much more catastrophic storm called Juan was forming around the first of October, and it would hit the Gulf Coast between Pensacola and Port Arthur, TX, at around that time.  Juan was apparently only a Category 1 storm, and under normal circumstances it would give the Gulf Coast a bit of a beating and then be over.  However, a cold front from the Midwest would meet up with its remnants later, and that is what made it perhaps the most dangerous storm on record, doing almost as much damage far away from the ocean as Andrew would do later in 1992 and Katrina 20 years later in 2005. By the time the flood waters did their damage, the storm was not a hurricane anymore, and Juan had evolved into just a monster system of some other classification that dumped a tremendous amount of moisture over the Alleghenies and the little river towns like my hometown of Parsons and Rowlesburg would be hit hard.  Last year, 2025, was the 40th year commemoration of that horrendous flood, and what happened next was one of the most upside down years yet as we settled into Rowlesburg then. 

By the time we had finally moved to Rowlesburg, the town looked like a war zone from the damage the flood wrecked on the town.  While we were still in Wardensville when the flood had hit, the only thing that impacted us was the cattle pond overflowing into the road and not much else, as the farmhouse in Baker was far enough away from major rivers to not be overly affected (although many towns nearby were - Romney, Wardensville, Moorefield, and Petersburg were all hit hard).  But, we moved during the time the aftershock was still evident in Rowlesburg, and moving there meant a lot of adjustments.  For one, there was no drinkable water, and thanks to the generosity of Anheuser-Busch and other companies, water was distributed for free at the local Southern Baptist church in town.  The water itself came in six-packs of white cans, and each family in town could get a few cases a week based on family size.  The house my grandmother and step-grandfather moved into was thankfully far enough away from the river to not be affected, as it was at the ridge on the southern edge of town on 72.  However, the magnitude of the damage to the center of town was astronomical - whole streets and whole houses were completely flattened, and a deep, thick blanket of mud submerged many places then.  Being the Baptists and Catholics in town had the best resources, they worked together to help the town recover, and to this day both churches are talked about with great respect.  The other churches in town - the Methodists and a tiny Church of Christ near the railroad - were pretty much destroyed, and the only other church in town - the tiny Pentecostal church nestled in the hills just north of the town on Salt Lick Road - was cut off and had to rely on the nearby town of Terra Alta for what it needed now despite the fact Rowlesburg was normally literally in walking distance.  The damage the flood did to the town would take literally years to completely recover from, and even today it is fresh in the memories of many people there.  Perhaps the most shocking adjustment though was school then, so let's talk about that now.

In the early 1980s, every major town in Preston County had its own high school, as the schools in the county had not been consolidated like they were elsewhere then.  I want to say that pre-1985 there were five high schools in the county - Central Preston in Kingwood, West Preston in Reedsville, East Preston in Terra Alta, Bruceton High School in Bruceton Mills, and Rowlesburg High School which served the southern part of the county then.  After the flood happened, school had to resume somewhere, and by the time I got there, Rowlesburg School was meeting in the fire hall of the Buckwheat Festival grounds in Kingwood.  Although Central Preston was literally just at the end of the street then, the Rowlesburg School was small enough (around 300 students) to set up in the fire hall.  Our classrooms consisted of partitioned walls, and the principal had his office in the back of the building while the Buckwheat Festival kitchen served lunches.  Gym class was conducted at the Civic Center at the other end of the festival grounds, and there was no more band at that point.  If we needed a library, that was located on the next block in Kingwood, or students were allowed to use Central's library down the street.  And, that was the rest of my freshman year.  Interesting story about that was a few years back, in 2018, Barbara wanted to go up to the Buckwheat Festival, and that was the first time I had been in the old fire hall in 32 years.  If you ever have a chance to go to that, the Buckwheat Festival in September merits visiting - those Preston County buckwheat cakes and that sage sausage are worth the trip alone.  When we went to the festival in 2018, surprisingly we actually sat at a table in the very area my homeroom/History class (Mr. Cassidy was a great teacher then) used to be, and that was a surreal feeling too.   Also during that year, we had a long bus trip to school.  The buses picked us up in downtown Rowlesburg then, and we would have to go south on 72 to Macomber, and then climb the mountain on US 50 to Fellowsville, before turning onto SR 26 to go to Kingwood via the community of Tunnelton.  North 72 ran by the Cheat River, and large chunks of that road were destroyed by the floodwaters so no one could access it for months.  The bus ride was long, and I think it also altered the school schedule then somewhat then too. To complicate things more that year, Mom and I would move in early March 1986 across the river to the community of Mannheim, where Mom secured a live-in caregiver position for an 88-year-old man named Webby.  A short couple of months later, Webby would actually pass away, and then our move to Terra Alta would happen, which is the subject of another story later.

Living in Mannheim was not the worst condition I had ever been in - I mean, after all, I actually had lived in a flood zone all that winter!  But, it was an adjustment.  While I had a room to myself upstairs, the conditions were very sparse living there - Webby could only eat boiled stuff, so my heavens, we had a lot of boiled pork chops with onions!   If you have ever experienced those, I feel you - while they were edible, it was some of the most bland, depressing food I think I have ever eaten.   Mom seemed to thrive on it though, and come to find out later Mom was exercising a bit of extreme altruism living there and come to find out she could have easily varied the diet a bit.  Problem is though, my mom could not cook - she was never all that good at cooking.  Thankfully, I discovered ramen soup then so I also ate a lot of that too.  It was also during that time I became a born-again Christian too, as I had accepted Christ when Pastor Olen Phillips prayed with me on a cold January night and I was baptized two weeks later.  But, I felt truly like I was encountering spiritual warfare at that time, as I was not content, and I felt very depressed a lot of the time.  There were bright moments though, such as fishing in the Cheat with my good friend Jack Schaeffer then and catching the occasional hellbender salamander, as well as harvesting a ton of broad-leafed wild garlic in a meadow just beyond the house.  Moments like that, and a lot of prayer, kept me sane then.  Of course, once we did eventually move to Terra Alta and I started my sophomore year, I would soon find my own niche and settle into it well, but at this point it was still a time of upheaval for me.  When I do the next part of that story, I will talk in more detail about how that went.

The year beginning in August 1985 and ending in June 1986 was a rough intermediate period for me, and it was literally a year of transitions - I went from a dorky middle school student living in Kirby to becoming a fairly secure high school student in Terra Alta by the time July 1986 rolled around.  There is a lot about that transition year I would love to forget, as it was rough, but at the same time I also grew too.  As I continue the second part of this later, you will see how I sort of came of age in Terra Alta as I began to find the person I truly was, and that would shape me as I grew into adulthood later.  Thanks for allowing me to prattle, and will see you next time. 

Friday, September 11, 2026

Another Visit Down Memory Lane

 I wasn't going to post anything else today, but I wanted to just share something while it was fresh on my mind about a childhood memory.  This is a strong recollection too, as it was considered family legend for many years on Mom's side of the tree.  First though, today also commemorates what happened on September 11, 2001.  I recall that day ever so vigilantly, because at the time I was only 31 years old and I remember when it happened.  I was actually completing a job interview in the same building where Barbara worked at the time, and this was in downtown Tampa on Westshore Boulevard.  Being we lived in St. Petersburg at that point, I had ridden in with Barbara for the interview and after I finished my appointment, I was just sitting in the car in the parking garage behind the office complex.  The news came on that morning about the World Trade Center getting hit by what was thought to be a rogue airplane (they discovered later that Islamic terrorists had hijacked the planes), and I vaguely saw something about it as I was finishing up my interview as the agency's office had a TV in the lobby that was broadcasting what was happening live.  At the moment, I didn't know all the details, but everyone was in a bit of an uproar about it.  Then, Barbara and the people in her office were told to get out of there and leave early, as a major city like Tampa would be a premium risk.  When we got back to the house in St. Pete, the first thing we did was turn on the news, and there it was - the collapsing towers and then the plane hitting the Pentagon.  It was a surreal moment then for all of us, and the one thing I recall at that point was that all of a sudden political differences didn't matter - it was time for us to come together as a nation.  I would venture to say that it was probably the last time we were really a united nation, as now at 25 years later there are idiots like Hasan Piker celebrating the tragedy, and radical Islamists like Ilhan Omar in Congress dismissively describing that day as "some people did something."  Up to that point, the only real scare was Y2K, which came and went without anything happening then despite the hype we heard in the late 1990s about it.  However, that tragic day - September 11th - would define what has been one of the most chaotic centuries we have had yet - the 21st century has been one crazy thing after another.  First was 9/11, then it was Hurricane Katrina which did tremendous damage 4 years later.  After that, we had a brief bit of hysteria with the whole 2012 scare, and then the political scene started getting insane when "wokeness" for a while really prevailed, and then there was COVID, the Iran war we have now, and God only knows what is next.  Seeing all of this happening in the past 25 years is really making me miss the 1980s and 1990s.  And, it is also one reason why I decided to start taking a lot of forays onto Memory Lane to revisit some things and share.  What I am about to share took place personally for me about 50 years ago, and it is one of my more light-hearted memories but I got some good information earlier in the week that helped fill in some gaps.  So, we'll dive right on into it. 

As I have talked about before, my late grandfather and my step-grandfather lived in a little community just outside Martinsburg called Bedington.  To get to this community, you would go north on Route 11 until you got to County Route 5, also known as Bedington Road.  If you turned right onto Bedington Road, the little town was just about a few hundred yards, and if you kept going you would then make a left turn onto what was called Scrabble Road.  A couple of miles out there is where my grandfather owned a sizeable parcel of land, and he had a mobile home on it then.  My step-grandmother Goldie at the time was the quintessential homemaker, so she had cellars full of canned goods, gardens full of things such as cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and other vegetables that would end up being canned and stored in those cellars, and she also kept a few chickens down close by Hoke Run, a small creek that ran in behind the property where I used to catch tiny spring peeper toads (that has a place in this story shortly too) and other critters in large Maxwell House coffee cans or jelly jars.  Additionally, Goldie was also devoutly Pentecostal, the result of a very intense conversion she had about 10 years before when she was first diagnosed with cancer (that would eventually take her life in 1979).  Her fervent faith led her to start going to a little church in nearby Falling Waters where she would essentially be a member until she passed away, and in either a fortuitous circumstance or by divine guidance it turns out that little church now has a website, and that is what brings me to what I wanted to talk about today because now I have a historical backstory on a little church that played a pivotal role in my childhood. 


Little Falls Chapel, Falling Waters, West Virginia

The recently discovered website for Little Falls Chapel has a concise history section to it, and referencing that (if you want to look at it yourself, the URL for it is https://littlefallschapel.com/discover-the-rich-history-of-little-falls-chapel/ ) I got a bit of a backstory on the little church.  It seems the history of that little church goes back to the early 19th century, when a group of Pennsylvania Germans settled there and established what was the Salem German Reformed Church, a Calvinistic church that originally was German-speaking.  In time, it then was assimilated into another Calvinistic tradition, the Presbyterians, and this led to its rebranding in 1892 to Little Falls Presbyterian Church.  In time, the Presbyterians outgrew that little building, and they have a more modern brick structure just down the road still called Little Falls Presbyterian Church.  But, it was in the 1960s when the church began its transformation to another tradition of Christianity, that being as a Pentecostal church.  There is a little more to this story than the church website has, so I will devote a bit more space to telling that. 

The church website said that in 1962 the Church adopted the name Little Falls Calvary Temple, and it became an independent Full Gospel Church.  The pastor of that church for many years was a diminuitive older man who looked more like an insurance adjuster by the name of Rev. Claude Benjamin (or "Jeff") Carbaugh (deceased 1994) and his wife Alta (1914-2008).  Rev. Carbaugh, who was originally from Pennsylvania, was an ordained minister with the Church of God denomination, but chose to pastor an independent Full Gospel church instead.  Although later retired, the Carbaughs were pretty active in church planting in both Washington County, MD, and in Berkeley County, WV, as Alta's obituary said they planted about 17 churches.  Given the name "Calvary Temple" was attached to the Little Falls Church, I am thinking there is some connection between that and the larger Calvary Temple in nearby Williamsport, MD, which was founded in 1940 by a Rev. Vernon Wesley Miles (1913-2001) and his wife Mary (1913-2010) - the connection I want to make is if it was possible that Rev. Miles may have been one of the people that Rev. Carbaugh originally worked with, given that Alta's obituary noted that at her passing she attended there regularly.  This means I need to do the work of the historian I am and do a deep-dive into Calvary Temple's history

Interior sanctuary, Calvary Temple, Williamsport, MD

Well, as it turns out, it looks like Rev. Carbaugh pastored a different church at the time called Jones Chapel, also in Williamsport, so he and Rev. Miles were not directly connected although I would wager they knew each other.  The history of Jones Chapel, including a photo of a very young Rev. Carbaugh, can be found here - https://wmspthistory.org/jones-chapel.  At that time, he was still in the Church of God denomination too, and Little Falls Calvary Temple was still Church of God up to around the late 1960s, when it was just called Little Falls Chapel from that point when Rev. Carbaugh pastored it.  By the year 1976, when I first became familiar with the little church, my step-grandmother Goldie had been going there for several years, and even led house prayer meetings in her living room.  And, that leads to a hilarious story I wanted to share that some of you may have heard before, but it bears repeating with more information now. 

Interior of Little Falls Chapel during a Sunday service

I mentioned the affinity I had for collecting all sorts of critters years ago, and one thing I loved catching was these tiny little toads called spring peepers.  A spring peeper is so small it could fit on a dime with room to spare, and after a summer rain they could be found all over the place near creeks in wooded areas.  I had a "sweet spot" just a little ways behind Grandad's house at Hoke Run where I would catch dozens of those little amphibians, and I collected them in one of the large aforementioned Maxwell House coffee cans.  On one occasion, it was a Wednesday afternoon, and as was the routine, Goldie had the church ladies over for a prayer meeting, and she assembled about 15 or so in the room, so I was encouraged to sort of stay out of the way by Mom and instead go hunt frogs, which I gladly did.  That particular day, I had a can full of about 30-40 of those little critters, and I was really quite proud of myself.  So, I go back to the house, and not thinking that a prayer meeting was going on inside, I just happily charge in like I usually did.  The 15 church ladies and Goldie were doing some praying - they were crying, wailing, and speaking in tongues like good Pentecostal church ladies do, and to be honest, they did not even notice me when I came in.  That would change quickly, as I had a bunch of jittery tiny frogs cramped in a can, and they wanted out!  And, I was excited to show them off, so the lid to the can came off, and tiny frogs went all over the place.  That got the church ladies' attention!  Next thing I know, the prayer meeting is in chaos as these 50-something-year-old Pentecostal church ladies were scrambling on top of chairs and screaming because some of the frogs decided to hitch rides on their panty hose.  That of course meant that for me, the church service had just started, and I was about to get one hell of a sermon from Goldie - she was not happy!  Grandad of course was sitting in the corner with a big goofy grin on his face - he was enjoying the show - and my poor mother looked like she was about to have a stroke.  From that point on, I think caution was taken to keep a disruptive 6-year-old boy with a can full of critters at a safe distance away from any church functions!  Later, I would also try to take Rev. Carbaugh - who in my young six-year-old mind I for some reason called "Preacher Jake" because I actually really liked him, and he seemed to be entertained by me - a gift of a large field toad I had caught earlier in the day and snuck into the church in my suit pocket one Sunday night.  While "Preacher Jake" got a good laugh out of it, my step-grandmother Goldie was not amused and she came up with her own behavior incentive to keep me on the straight path in church.  Everyone knows I hate pickles (you all have heard that story already), and Goldie was well aware of it.  So, as a behavior enforcement measure, she kept a small baggie of them in her purse to make sure I behaved myself from that point, and all I had to do was see her just show them in her purse and that would immediately cease any bright idea I might have in church with anything.  Looking back on it, Rev. Carbaugh was a nice and very longsuffering guy, and all accounts I heard of him were that he was a good pastor to his people.  I am a bit surprised that whoever set up Little Falls' website didn't mention him somewhere, but it is easy to fill in gaps now, thanks to the miracle of the internet.  Anyway, now that I told that story, let's get up to date about Little Falls.

In 1997, a widowed lady pastor, Rev. Linda Reese, assumed the pastorate of the little church, and she is still pastor there as far as I can see.  The little church runs about a dozen congregants a week, and it does have videos of its services and a solid web presence, including the aforementioned website as well as a Facebook page.  They are pretty much now an independent, identifiably Pentecostal church, and they are still going strong, which is good.  I figured that as a historian it would be a good story to tell, thanks in part to the very good information they have on their website plus the material I found on Rev. Carbaugh later too.  I am thinking about doing more recollections like this as I learn more about certain things, so stay tuned.

Thanks again for joining me, and will see you next time. 






Wednesday, September 9, 2026

Revisiting Graded Absolutism

 I wanted to revisit this topic today based on something I had just read a couple of days ago.  It was the text of an interview given by Fr. Daniele di Sorco, a priest of the SSPX, with the Italian District of the SSPX.   The article can be found at https://fsspx.news/en/news/sate-necessity-invoked-sspx-real-60862 (accessed September 7, 2026).  In the article, Fr. di Sorco is discussing something called "the state of necessity," and as he defines it, essentially that means a situation exists where a danger is evident, and this danger can be to body or soul - the presence of the danger, therefore, allows for the disregard of certain laws which could result in something harmful.  Reading that brought me back to what Dr. Norman Geisler said in his book Christian Ethics about graded absolutism - remember, he defined it as when the greater good, rather than the lesser evil, is pursued to follow the higher moral duty.  If two moral duties clash then, the believer is exempt by virtue from the lower duty by virtual obedience to the higher duty (Norman Geisler, Christian Ethics.  Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010: 98).  It is this reason why the Thomistic premise for just war exists, and why in certain circumstances (such as this demonic Lindsay Clancy who is in the news right now for murdering her own kids) capital punishment is also permissable.  In essence, both the state of necessity and the idea of graded absolutism are intricately related, if not even synonymous with one another (their component convictions are remarkably identical).  This means then that I would argue that Father di Sorco of the SSPX is in essence espousing graded absolutism as it relates to the way the Vatican has responded to the recent SSPX episcopal consecrations - the higher virtue of adherence to doctrinal orthodoxy exempts one from the duty of Papal allegiance when the Pope himself is in error with certain things.  I tend to agree with Fr. di Sorco on this, as what I have been seeing from Leo as well as his predecessor Francis and some Sadducees in positions of authority in the Vatican as well as some diocesan leadership has raised cause for concern.  This is where I will get into the "meat" of my argument. 

While I essentially went over the more fundamental aspects of all this earlier, graded absolutism at times is warranted, and we see even God himself setting the example many times with it, particularly in the Old Testament.  In the early days of Creation, for instance, God allowed consanguine marriages without consequence to populate the earth, and later he tolerated polygamy for a short time - polygamy was never God's ideal at all, but God worked through the process to accomplish a greater good.  God also allowed a degree of mass destruction in the books of Joshua and Judges because there was a greater good there as well - it has been offered by some that many of those original "-ites" that the Hebrews came against may have been beings who were not fully human, based on the Genesis 6 principle.   All you hear about, for instance, are supersized giants like Og of Bashan and Goliath, and some of those individuals were astronomical in size.   I tend to take those accounts at their word, and I understand why God would want entire populations of these individuals eliminated - they were in essence corrupting the land in unnatural ways.  In this day and age - and believe it or not, you actually hear this from people! - this makes God a racist genocidal maniac who made Hitler look like a Cub Scout.  It is one reason many of them are ambivalent to Christianity, but they don't understand the context and setting of the story.  If these supersized individuals were indeed somehow the descendants of fallen angels, then they were a mistake and were not part of God's original creation.  So, God had to cleanse the corruption of Creation for his own people to make the way for the redemption of mankind, and these half-angelic supermen were a problem.  Other sources of this I have read have said that those disembodied souls became the demons, and I see that as a possibility.  This means then that Satan - who is a fallen angel and not a demon - rigged the system to produce his own slave army to do his bidding, and that would make some sense.  I am not here today to argue the origin of demons, but rather that graded absolutism has been part of the story of God's purpose for mankind since the beginning.  If we are created in his image, then in that case it only makes sense that we are given the liberty to apply the same principle to the world we live in today.  The road to the right thing is often crisscrossed with bad acts and decisions, but they can be used for the greater good.  That explains just war and capital punishment then, but what of people disregarding a bad Pope?  Let's address that next.

The issue with this whole situation is a definition of terms, namely the Papal office vs. the person who occupies it.  The Papal office has Apostolic sanction and authority, and it supersedes all who occupied it because they too are subject to the Apostolic teachings that established the office.  So, when a sitting Pope does something stupid or sinful - such as worshipping a Pachamama or groveling to Islamists or the leaders of the Chinese Communist Party - he is in conflict with the Papal office.  So, there are some like the SSPX then who see this as a violation, and thus they are justified by their actions to continue the faith they hold convictions to even if it brings them into direct fire with a sitting Pope who is disobedient.  And, while Fr. di Sorco notes correctly that the state of necessity is not directly addressed or defined in Canon law, but it is implicitly understood by Magisterial teaching.  This leads to a few observations of my own as it relates to the SSPX issue but also to wider problems in the Catholic Church in general. 

For one thing, I disagree with the good Father on one point - he makes the claim that all of Vatican II is in error or is wrong, and I respectfully disagree with that.  It is possible to be a faithful and orthodox Catholic who attends the post-Vatican II Ordinary Form Mass.  I have attended many myself, and they are reverent, valid, and I saw no conflict with my personal faith.  The priest I consider my confessor and main counsel for spiritual matters, Fr. Timothy Grassi, celebrates the Ordinary Form in his parish every Sunday, and he is perhaps one of the most sound and orthodox priests I have ever known (as well as, like myself, having sympathies for the TLM without actively attending it).  Neither Vatican II, its documents, or a proper implementation of its reforms are the real problem - the problem is a wrong implementation of those things, and way too much of that goes on.  While it is true that there were dissident and rogue periti who served in advisory capacities at the Council, it is also true that for the most part the documents that came from it - in particular Lumen Gentium - are quite good.  I have a few issues though with Gaudium et Spes, as a lot of the liturgical abuses and other things we have seen can be traced back to what is perhaps a very faulty application of its more ambiguous language.  If a document like Gaudium et Spes is to be studied, perhaps some clarifying commentary would be in order to utilize with it.  I also tend to agree with what my good friend Charles Coulombe said as well, that being you accept what is good, and throw out what is bad - there were many good things to come from Vatican II as well, and as long as they are consistent with Tradition then there are no problems.  However, watch out for bad players in the game too - the dissident priests, the rogue bishops, and others who bend things they read in those documents to such a degree they can say anything they want them to say, and this is where you get characters like Cardinal Tucho Fernandez, James Martin, Richard Rohr, Richard McBrien, Bede Griffiths, and - dare I say it! - the late Pope Francis, among others.  These are individuals who try to rewrite the recipe, so to speak, and they tend to cast Tradition in a foreign mindset that many of the early Saints and Fathers of the Church would have rejected.  The same goes for some pre-Vatican II figures too, such as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin and Thomas Merton.  And, that being said, it bears a few closing thoughts.

To begin, let me just reiterate that Pope Leo XIV, as well as Francis before him, were mortal, concupiscent human beings.  They didn't fart holy writ every time they sat on a toilet to do their thing, and for some badly misinformed Catholics who tend to give them more allegiance than they deserve, I would caution strongly to be careful - you are on the verge of creating an idol out of the occupant of the Papal office, even when what he is doing falls short of that office he has been given.   It is also a fundamental misunderstanding about Papal infallibility too - this does not mean that every time the Pope burps it is divine revelation either; that is not how Papal infallibility works.   For Catholics who hold to that erroneous view of Papal authority, you have just put Leo on the same level as Warren Jeffs of the FLDS, and the psychopath Jim Jones, and nothing good will come of that, I can assure you.  The Pope is also subject to Magisterial standards as well, and where he falls short, no one is obliged to follow it.  That is something people like the members of the SSPX understand, and that is why a state of necessity may be warranted, as it flips on its ear what the definition of a heresy is - who are the real heretics, and who really is in schism?  Is it a group of individuals who want to preserve a traditional form of the Holy Mass, or is it a Pope who tends to bow in reverence to pagan idols?  That's a definite thinker for sure, but it shouldn't be - the standard was established two thousand years ago when Jesus commissioned twelve men - his Apostles - to lead his Church on earth.  Magisterial teaching, and Holy Tradition, began there, but it had a foundation as well that goes back millennia before it.  On that we start getting into the history of philosophy and Judaic/Hebraic tradition, as both contributed to the construction of our Tradition because both were rooted in areas God created - one the natural law, and the other supernatural Revelation.  That, therefore, is the standard we judge things by, and we also cannot forget the importance of Holy Scripture too - God's own words, infallible and inerrant, eternal truth.  If something does not align with those, it is to be rejected, and if a cleric of the Church insists on holding the bad ideas anyway, they have declared themselves schismatic.  So, does that mean Leo XIV, or his predecessor Francis, were schismatics?  Weigh the evidence and decide for yourself, but just keep in mind the man is not the office.  The Papal Office is eternal and established by God, but the man who sits in the chair of it will be a creature of sin, and how they understand honestly that fact will determine how they responsibly accept the awesome burden of that office. 

Thanks again for allowing me to share, and will see you again soon.