13th_crusader: (Maxwell - Holy Mother)
[]Isaiah 52:7-10

How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of Him who brings good tidings, who publishes peace, who brings good tidings of good, who publishes salvation, who says to Zion, "Your God reigns."
Hark, your watchmen lift up their voice, together they sing for joy; for eye to eye they see the return of the Lord to Zion.
Break forth together into singing, you waste places of Jerusalem; for the Lord has comforted His people, He has redeemed Jerusalem.
The Lord has bared His holy arm before the eyes of all the nations; and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.

[☨]Adorned in the vestments clean of the sin of blood that had been stained upon him, the Archbishop stands before the podium to decree the Word of the Old Testament as he addressed and spoke aloud and fluidly to the attendees of this Holy day's Mass.[☨]

I chose this scripture as befitting to our qualm. A qualm and dire situation I believe shall be rectified with faith that our Lord, born upon this day as God's greatest gift, that as he delivers us from evil and sin, he shall deliver us from the darkness of this land.

And so, the Word reads...

The rod of His oppressor, thou hast broken as on the day of Midian. )

While angels we may not be, we would do well to reflect their heavenly praise. Even now, they look upon us in this wayward world and praise us who still seek to praise our Lord in times of trial. Like Job, we are merely being tested by forces unknown to us. Yet neither shall we waver... neither shall we give in.

Our Lord is with us.

Lord God, we praise you for creating man, and still more for restoring him in Christ. Your Son shared our weakness; may we share his glory, for he lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

[☨]In that benediction he raised his articulate hands and gave the Sign of the Cross.

The man, the crusader, was weak. Weaker physically than he had ever been before in his conflicted life. As more the grating days passed, the more his white cloths he touched to his mouth stained with cursed sanguine, the colors of his Crusade: White and Red.

How irony plagued him that as he died in the land of Midian he cried out and knew no one would hear him.. and now that here as his death slowed to a crawl, that he should cry through the pages he held in his hands, and truly believe that He would hear. For alone was he, with none left to turn to but the faith he had forgotten in his crusade for power.

In that very moment, the Archbishop felt a weight leave him, like a respite drawn from his lips.. something he barely understood before, yet here in this Purgatory, he may have just finally discerned that grace.

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum.



13th_crusader: (Default)
Enrico Maxwell

August 2010

12345 67


RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 20th, 2017 09:49 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios