✞28 Days since my Last Confession✞
Jun. 29th, 2010 10:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
13th_crusader[†]Gospel: Matthew 16:13-19
When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?
And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.
He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon son of Jonah: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.
And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.[†]
[☨]It's late evening by the time he realizes the date. He had been keeping time merely by the dimming of light and darkness through the blinds over his eyes. And long before that, the phases of the strange moons had helped him keep track. A traditionalist man, he sat at the pews with father Anderson's large bible in his lap, playing his fingertips blindly over the pages and the rivets in the edge of the pages that marked each chapter.
Even partially sightless, he still knew exactly which scripture laid in front of him by ingrained memory and touch alone. Tonight was another important eve (of the dozens in strict Catholicism), forgotten by most, if not all Godless foes around him. So he kept it to himself, his faith and belief, and everything else of consiquence to himself as he read in an undertone, splaying his touch across the soft pages as if the deep-set ink were braille.[☨]
Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and keep watch with me. ...And he went a little further, and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will... but as Thou wilt.
[☨]He paused when his acute ears heard the footsteps of his subordinate.[☨]
Father.. do you know which solemnity it is today?
When Jesus came into the coasts of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, saying, Whom do men say that I the Son of man am?
And they said, Some say that thou art John the Baptist: some, Elijah; and others, Jeremiah, or one of the prophets.
He saith unto them, But whom say ye that I am?
And Simon Peter answered and said, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.
And Jesus answered and said unto him, Blessed art thou, Simon son of Jonah: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven.
And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.
And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.[†]
[☨]It's late evening by the time he realizes the date. He had been keeping time merely by the dimming of light and darkness through the blinds over his eyes. And long before that, the phases of the strange moons had helped him keep track. A traditionalist man, he sat at the pews with father Anderson's large bible in his lap, playing his fingertips blindly over the pages and the rivets in the edge of the pages that marked each chapter.
Even partially sightless, he still knew exactly which scripture laid in front of him by ingrained memory and touch alone. Tonight was another important eve (of the dozens in strict Catholicism), forgotten by most, if not all Godless foes around him. So he kept it to himself, his faith and belief, and everything else of consiquence to himself as he read in an undertone, splaying his touch across the soft pages as if the deep-set ink were braille.[☨]
Then saith he unto them, My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and keep watch with me. ...And he went a little further, and fell prostrate in prayer, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will... but as Thou wilt.
[☨]He paused when his acute ears heard the footsteps of his subordinate.[☨]
Father.. do you know which solemnity it is today?
