Basilians once again - a story of perversion from Sudbury to Calgary

Just two weeks ago, I wrote about the latest accusation of sexual perversion and abuse by a priest of the Congregation of St. Basil, the Basilians; the attack on the young man took place in Sudbury. Just last week, we have been made aware of another case of a perverted and sodomite priest of the Basilian Congregation, this time in Calgary.

The Statement of Claim is available on Sylvia's Site - The Inquiry where all the filth of the Basilians perverts and sodomites has been long documented, along with the attacks by priests on young men and girls in Canada.

The Basilian biography refers to Cahill as being "angered by injustice." Born in Newfoundland, we can see a continuing pattern with priests and victims in that province. In the statement of claim, this sodomite is accused of laying down on top of his victim and fondling is privates, just as a priest did to him. The young victim also had expressed interest in the priesthood.

The rot of this Congregation is deep, Sylvia's Site has a whole series. For example, Jack "hands on" Hanna, a priest who remains in an official position as Secretary-Treasurer.

The fact is, the leaders of the Basilians, whether in Texas, Michigan, Ohio, New York State, Ontario or Alberta, knew of these perverts and did nothing. In most cases, the bishops where they "served" knew and did nothing. The continuous blood-letting of news of the abuse crisis has not ended. The victims take years, decades even to find the courage to come forward and in many cases, the perpetrators are already dead, as in the Sudbury and Calgary case. They cannot be held accountable by the victim but they have been judged by Almighty God.

My words to the victims of pervert priests are important to take to heart.

If you have not yet come forward, you must. These Orders and Bishops must be held accountable before man and God.

The crimes of men must not affect your faith in God or the beautiful truth of His Church. I tell you this truthfully and personally. God is true, the Catholic faith is real, men are vile sinners. They must be outed and you have a duty. You have a duty to yourself and you have a duty to God to do your part to reveal this filth to cleanse the Church. It does not happen by itself.

Find the courage brother. Be a victim no longer. Hide in shame no longer.

Sunlight is the best disinfectant.

The Lord Jesus will protect you.

Confitemini Domino. All are invited to give thanks to God for his perpetual providence over men. Alleluia.

Confitemini Domino. All are invited to give thanks to God for his perpetual providence over men. Alleluia.

[1] Give glory to the Lord, for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever. [2] Let them say so that have been redeemed by the Lord, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy: and gathered out of the countries. [3] From the rising and the setting of the sun, from the north and from the sea. [4] They wandered in a wilderness, in a place without water: they found not the way of a city for their habitation. [5] They were hungry and thirsty: their soul fainted in them.
[6] And they cried to the Lord in their tribulation: and he delivered them out of their distresses. [7] And he led them into the right way: that they might go to a city of habitation. [8] Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him: and his wonderful works to the children of men. [9] For he hath satisfied the empty soul, and hath filled the hungry soul with good things. [10] Such as sat in darkness and in the shadow of death: bound in want and in iron.
[11] Because they had exasperated the words of God: and provoked the counsel of the most High: [12] And their heart was humbled with labours: they were weakened, and their was none to help them. [13] Then they cried to the Lord in their affliction: and he delivered them out of their distresses. [14] And he brought them out of darkness, and the shadow of death; and broke their bonds in sunder. [15] Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him, and his wonderful works to the children of men.
[16] Because he hath broken gates of brass, and burst the iron bars. [17] He took them out of the way of their iniquity: for they were brought low for their injustices. [18] Their soul abhorred all manner of meat: and they drew nigh even to the gates of death. [19] And they cried to the Lord in their affliction: and he delivered them out of their distresses. [20] He sent his word, and healed them: and delivered them from their destructions.
[21] Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him: and his wonderful works to the children of men. [22] And let them sacrifice the sacrifice of praise: and declare his works with joy. [23] They that go down to the sea in ships, doing business in the great waters: [24] These have seen the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. [25] He said the word, and there arose a storm of wind: and the waves thereof were lifted up.
[26] They mount up to the heavens, and they go down to the depths: their soul pined away with evils. [27] They were troubled, and reeled like a drunken man; and all their wisdom was swallowed up. [28] And they cried to the Lord in their affliction: and he brought them out of their distresses. [29] And he turned the storm into a breeze: and its waves were still. [30] And they rejoiced because they were still: and he brought them to the haven which they wished for.
[31] Let the mercies of the Lord give glory to him, and his wonderful works to the children of men. [32] And let them exalt him in the church of the people: and praise him in the chair of the ancients. [33] He hath turned rivers into a wilderness: and the sources of water into dry ground: [34] A fruitful land into barrenness, for the wickedness of them that dwell therein. [35] He hath turned a wilderness into pools of water, and a dry land into water springs.
[36] And hath placed there the hungry; and they made a city for their habitation. [37] And they sowed fields, and planted vineyards: and they yielded fruit of birth. [38] And he blessed them, and they were multiplied exceedingly: and their cattle he suffered not to decrease. [39] Then they were brought to be few: and they were afflicted through the trouble of evils and sorrow. [40] Contempt was poured forth upon their princes: and he caused them to wander where there was no passing, and out of the way.
[41] And he helped the poor out of poverty: and made him families like a flock of sheep. [42] The just shall see, and shall rejoice, and all iniquity shall stop their mouth. [43] Who is wise, and will keep these things: and will understand the mercies of the Lord?

Coming to Tradition via the Back Door - a guest post by Iranaeus

The crunch is in full swing and and managing, with God's grace through your prayers to survive, the recent attacks from various places, has meant my blogging is a little light and the brain, a little tired. Iranaeus. whose work was appreciated here a few weeks ago is back and unlike others, he is not barkin' up the wrong tree.

 
Introduction 

The Archdiocese of Toronto is a busy, gossipy place of calumny and slander, as I recently found out. Much to my chagrin, a blog post by a person known to me has recently surfaced, where both my previous actions on this blog and my actions elsewhere on a public Facebook forum – the latter of which has been curiously deleted – were pulled apart, analysed and ultimately decried as being detrimental to the traditionalist movement. Memorably, I was called a ‘misguided young man’ who was ‘spiritually sick,’ and under the influence of ‘those senior friends around him.’ I was also paraded as symptomatic of the poison of Radicals Misrepresenting Traditionalism in the movement ‘seeping into those who have no viable grudge or injury to them by members of the “ institutional” Church’ in the spirit of Vatican II. 

While I am not the only seemingly-despicable topic covered in the post, I am the only one named directly and spoken of at considerable length. In good conscience, I will not link to the post.

While this guest post was inspired by that particular post, I am not here to challenge or even respond to the blogger. Far from it. I am not one to lower myself down into the murky swamps of this world and become infected with the gunk in them. No, I am here to detail how I came into tradition. 

When I last wrote here, I remember several commenters’ astonishment at the lucidity of my writing. Some expressed a wish to hear from me again. One even expressed – dare I say – hope that I was Vox’s son, which Vox quickly put to rest. (Likely with a chuckle.) Regardless, I am here to tell my tale. I do this with some risk, as I have told bits and pieces of my story to infrequent readers of this blog. But tell it I shall, and I will deal with the consequences. 

An Exercise in Fickleness to Firmness Faith begins with one’s family, but in mine, that faith simmered beneath the surface for a very long time. You see, I grew up in a family where faith was treated haphazardly, just as their faith was arrived at. Both of my fathers were raised Catholic, but fell away because of the ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude exhibited by members of their home communities. My mother was a Low Church Anglican, and was received into the Catholic Church as an adult, but she too fell away in the faith because of the holier-than-thou attitude I mentioned previously. I came to the faith in the same haphazard way, with a clandestine baptism to boot. 

After my First Holy Communion – where I memorably received His Body and Blood – I too fell away from the faith, and didn’t come back for a long time. Faith wasn’t important then, and still isn’t to a large degree in my family. While my family isn’t progressive in the most literal sense – we disavow recreational drug usage and same-sex ‘marriage’, though more on the quiet, to this day – my family is progressive in the sense a cavalier attitude is adopted towards religion, government and even abortion. So long as we aren’t being hurt, a sort of refrain is heard throughout my childhood, we don’t need to speak up on things. We like to be comfortable and unchanging in our position in the world. This was a refrain I innocently adopted as I prepped for Confirmation. Off I went to Confirmation class – back when those were popular – and off I went to Confirmation. Whatever I was expecting when the chrism touched my forehead, it wasn’t the sense of something – or someone – coming into me, forming a dent into the bone of my forehead. It was a sensation I felt long after the Holy Chrism washed off, one which I still feel from time to time. It is something I cannot for the life of me describe adequately. Without a doubt, it came from the Holy Ghost as it imparted whatever gifts I am meant to have to my soul.

From High School to higher education here, we come to a difficulty present in my reversion story. 

Unlike some other traditionalists I know, I am unable to pinpoint my reversion to a particular moment in time. I did not have some moment where I suddenly became traditional. On the contrary, I walked along the path to tradition in starts and stops … like many others, I suspect. I could argue it began with Confirmation … but if it did, it was a long time before any discernible fruits came to the surface. After Confirmation, I entered high school. What a high school that was, let me tell you. While as a whole I liked high school – I met my closest friends there, for instance – looking back on it, I can see some disturbing elements there. I was involved in Development and Peace, (the Canadian equivalent of CCHD and other Third World Social Justice collections,) in  for a time through the chaplaincy there. I was a member of Salesians (the high school variety), whereupon the retreats were held at a blandly modern retreat centre, though the grounds are breathtaking. My chaplain was a proponent of Native spirituality. Like my family, my high school adopted a cavalier attitude towards the most important issues in our faith – it was careful not to make any ripples lest any repercussions come back to them. To be frank, my high school intertwined faith with social justice a great deal. There was a Human Rights Club – I wasn’t involved then – but it performed what I call ‘slacktivism,’ with a religious bent, of course. Mass was infrequent throughout the year, and while Holy Week was bereft of extracurriculars, the Wednesday or Thursday of that week had a grand Stations of the Cross put on for the school. The religion curriculum was insubstantial, with Grade 11 being the year we learnt about all of those lovely religions Christianity seemingly washed away all those years ago. The chapel, while in the centre of the top floor of the school, was unspectacular, with Our Lord being shoved off to the right. And the fruit of all this? Classmates of mine went on to study gender ideology, become homosexual/trans, become involved with Protestantism, become enamoured with the myth of climate change, or otherwise become apostates. And they say education does no harm.

Graduates of the Canadian Catholic school system will know what I speak of. The worst bit is that this meshed perfectly with my progressive home and equally progressive parish. My home parish – the parish I had my Holy First Communion and Confirmation in – is perhaps the worst of the bunch in the area I live in. It was back then, and still is now, as people continue to deflect to the closest Catholic parish. I will not speak of what I think are abuses there – as I did not think them to be abuses then – but I will comment that I began to adopt some traditional practices there, albeit fitfully. I developed a sense of the sacred as divorced from the profane. I began to realize you had to have some dress sense when you went to Mass, so I made dress pants and a dress shirt my Sunday attire. I adopted the cross-at-the-forehead-lips-heart at the Gospel, whereas before I did the large cross.This did not, however, shift the progressive mindset I had at the time. I thought certain things were alright. I thought it was alright for women to be in the sanctuary, either as servers or "Eucharistic Ministers," properly called Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion, the only legitimate ones being, "installed Acolytes." I thought it was cool for priests to begin homilies with jokes and stories. I thought it was a boon to the liturgy to have laypeople as myself engage in active participation. I have no regret over thinking such things, as they were how I thought then, and I didn’t know any better.

Seeds Planted

Seeds grown thus began to shift, however unknowingly, as I entered higher education. As I began to get used to the world of academia, I also began to become more involved with the faith. Ask questions. Become involved with chaplaincy again. Consort with other Catholics – I had been lacking in that department for a while – and get to know them. Things began to change. I became less and less quiet in my faith, cognisant of not only its tenets, but also some of the moral issues underlying the Church in the modern world. It was an exciting time, to say the least.

In that same year, I attended a Latin Mass at the invitation of a friend. Missa Lecta, to be precise, at Holy Family here in Toronto. I wish I could say that it was a life-changing moment, that December morning, but I would be committing a falsehood. I appreciated the silence and solitude. That was about it. I struggled to follow along, and was unsure if I would be back. My friend said I would be back. How right he was!

A couple more years went by. Not much changed on the surface, other than the fact I was beginning to become more and more perturbed by what I was seeing at Mass and in my local environs. (Other than knowing the fact Pope Francis was around and ISIS was wrecking mayhem, I was not involved in Church politics.) I was not mad, merely disturbed. I was uncomfortable with what I was seeing, the clapping, the shows at Mass. The general awareness that something was wrong, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. Throughout all of this, I was learning more about my faith. I read bits and pieces of the now Pope St. John II. I learnt his Theology of the Body. I read Humane Vitae. I attended the youthful Theology on Tap, where I also began to be disturbed by the emphasis on socializing, and not enough on faith. I was dimly involved in the charismatic movement, too, but I have since stopped, since I got what I needed from that. My involvement in all of this, frankly, is a little hard to condense and analyze. I take none of it back, but I was beginning to become more and more orthodox day by day. It was a natural progression, as I followed one logical thought to the next. No one influenced my path to tradition, other than myself and the Holy Ghost, the latter of whom used my frustration to lead me on. 

It is all very mysterious, really. All of that came to a head on a Sunday in late July last year. I cannot recall what I was frustrated about, but over the course of several hours, as I conversed with a friend, I could not deny he was right and I was obstinate in my refusal to acknowledge the truth. Finally, I threw in the towel and admitted it was time to become traditional. That was the moment I admitted to myself that I did not like what I was seeing, and had to do something about it. It was a moment of intellectual honesty. Matters moved quickly after that. I bought a ’62 missal, and began to attend the most traditional Novus Ordo I could find. I devoured traditional material – the more palatable material, mind you; I hadn’t found Vox Cantoris yet – and really opened up to the faith in a way I hadn’t before. After just a month, though, I found my new parish home not all that likable, and made the move to Holy Family (www.oratory-toronto.org) on Thanksgiving weekend. I’ve been there ever since. 

About a month later, I began to be acquainted with those ‘senior friends’ and have been with them since then too, becoming involved with their activities. It is where I am today. 

Comments on Coming to Tradition 

So. There you have it. My reversion story, though it is still being written. It is not, as that blogger and others have insinuated, a story born from anger and indoctrination from those "poisonous" to the movement. It is a story born from a search for the Truth, finding it lacking in one place, but finding it in another. I came to tradition not through the front door, by the words of saints and popes or experiencing a TLM, but through the back door, by my own noggin and asking those pesky questions so few are willing to ask. 

I came to tradition by seeing what lack of it does to families, and how a lack of faith also destabilizes them. I came to tradition out of a sense of what is right and proper, that is, right and proper to Our Lord. I came to tradition not out of some desire to be cool and make friends, but to serve Him, in more ways than one. In short, I came to tradition because it was tradition. It has been a rough journey, as what I read and learn about the faith both uplifts me and leaves me downcast. That is how life is. You cannot have one without the other. You cannot have the butterflies and the rainbows without the storms that bring the rain. 

When I left the Novus Ordo, it hurt. The Novus Ordo – as I am wont to say – is spiritually sickening, and does great damage, both physically to the buildings it is housed in and spiritually to the parishioners who attend it. (Those who attend, you cannot deny it is based on emotion. The Mass is not meant to be all emotional. It is for God. Not you. If you realize that already, may God bless you.) 

Despite all that, it hurt to leave. I lost friends, relationships with priests, and Saturday Masses. It still hurts, mind you. It has cost me, too. Being outspoken about traditionalism has had me realize uncomfortable truths about close friends and even my own family members. I have had several moments where I suddenly became aware that those who I thought were traditional, weren’t all that traditional. (Talk about a whammy.) People have taken to attacking me online about my profession of faith, generally under my real name, but now under my assumed name, too. There is a black mark against my name in the Archdiocese. There is likely one at Holy Family, too, as I was involved with the Fr. Gilles Mongeau, S.J. business there. A Toronto priest promoting "homosexualism" and invited to be the "guest homilist" on the Feast of St. Philip Neri, the Oratorian founder. I say all of this not to cast myself as a victim – the greatest Victim is Our Lord, not someone like me – but to dispel this idea that hurt has been passed down to me from those older and wiser. No, it hasn’t. The hurt was already there as I entered the traditional world, and it continues to be there. 

Vox’s hurt is not mine. It is his. I have my own hurt, and it is that hurt and sorrow that drives me to write the way I write. (To be sure, hurt and sorrow aren’t the only motivators driving my writing. There are plenty moments of joy, too. Joy at seeing Our Lord at Mass every Sunday. Joy at going to Confession when I do. Joy at seeing the beauty of certain parishes in Ontario. Joy in learning the richness of our faith, from Solemn Vespers and Gregorian chant, to the rich traditions and peculiar customs around the Mass, such as when the Alleluia is buried just before Lent. Joy at just being around certain people who know when to kick off their shoes and enjoy themselves.) 

In the end, I have not been hurt as Vox has, but I have been hurt by the relativistic, modernist, ecumenical spirit rampant in the modern Church and the schools. Simply growing up in Novus Ordo land, I was denied the fullness of our faith for a long time. The Novus Ordo was all I knew until recently. When you are denied something you have every right to – but your pastors and bishops don’t talk about it – that hurts. It is a different hurt than, say, abuse at the hands of Basilian priests. It is, I am finding, a more insidious variety. One that is doing damage long after it is planted, as evidenced by the recent screed against me. 

It is true what they say: the insults have increased since the release of Summorum Pontificum. Will they end? I do not know. But what I do know is that attempts to clam people up often have the opposite effect. The blogger who wrote the screed against me and others like him would do well to remember that the next time they take issue with things people write. 

It is, frankly, uncharitable to ascribe things to people to which there is no proof.

As a final note, if I am some sort of living poison endangering the future of the traditionalist movement, let me say this. The traditionalist movement will not sustain on the pretty pictures of lace and the Consecration. It will sustain on what Catholics for ages past have done for their faith: defended it, decried heresies encroaching on it, and simply refuse to endorse anything that undermines said faith. I will gladly take that ‘poison’ rather than some placebo – it will get me to the Church Militant faster, at any rate.

At the Cocco

Your prayers please

For David himself

Ps. 34 Judica, Domine, nocentes me. David, in the person of Christ, prayeth against his persecutors: prophetically foreshewing the punishments that shall fall upon them.

[1] For David himself. Judge thou, O Lord, them that wrong me: overthrow them that fight against me. [2] Take hold of arms and shield: and rise up to help me. [3] Bring out the sword, and shut up the way against them that persecute me: say to my soul: I am thy salvation. [4] Let them be confounded and ashamed that seek after my soul. Let them be turned back and be confounded that devise against me. [5] Let them become as dust before the wind: and let the angel of the Lord straiten them.

[6] Let their way become dark and slippery; and let the angel of the Lord pursue them. [7] For without cause they have hidden their net for me unto destruction: without cause they have upbraided my soul. [8] Let the snare which he knoweth not come upon him: and let the net which he hath hidden catch him: and let the net which he hath hidden catch him: and into that very snare let them fall. [9] But my soul shall rejoice in the Lord; and shall be delighted in his salvation. [10] All my bones shall say: Lord, who is like to thee? Who deliverest the poor from the hand of them that are stronger than he; the needy and the poor from them that strip him.

[11] Unjust witnesses rising up have asked me things I knew not. [12] They repaid me evil for good: to the depriving me of my soul. [13] But as for me, when they were troublesome to me, I was clothed with haircloth. I humbled my soul with fasting; and my prayer shall be turned into my bosom. [14] As a neighbour and as an own brother, so did I please: as one mourning and sorrowful so was I humbled. [15] But they rejoiced against me, and came together: scourges were gathered together upon me, and I knew not.

[16] They were separated, and repented not: they tempted me, they scoffed at me with scorn: they gnashed upon me with their teeth. [17] Lord, when wilt thou look upon me? rescue thou my soul from their malice: my only one from the lions. [18] I will give thanks to thee in a great church; I will praise thee in a strong people. [19] Let not them that are my enemies wrongfully rejoice over me: who have hated me without cause, and wink with the eyes. [20] For they spoke indeed peaceably to me; and speaking in the anger of the earth they devised guile.

[21] And they opened their mouth wide against me; they said: Well done, well done, our eyes have seen it. [22] Thou hast seen, O Lord, be not thou silent: O Lord, depart not from me. [23] Arise, and be attentive to my judgment: to my cause, my God, and my Lord. [24] Judge me, O Lord my God according to thy justice, and let them not rejoice over me. [25] Let them not say in their hearts: It is well, it is well, to our mind: neither let them say: We have swallowed him up.

[26] Let them blush: and be ashamed together, who rejoice at my evils. Let them be clothed with confusion and shame, who speak great things against me. [27] Let them rejoice and be glad, who are well pleased with my justice, and let them say always: The Lord be magnified, who delights in the peace of his servant. [28] And my tongue shall meditate thy justice, thy praise all the day long.