CONTINUATION FROM ST. LAWRENCE 10 10-15-25
The following essay was written as course work when I was studying for my B.A. at Empire State. The setting is a missionary trip I took to northern N.Y. State to help take a census of the Catholic population in the Plattsburgh area.
Introduction: The pages that constitute the major body of this essay are full of conceptual pearls. For the final pages of this essay I shall extract them and copy them down. I will try to create a cohesive whole. However, many of the ideas here have no interrelationship, except that they were initially expressed in the same journal. Please endure this disorganized presentation of ideas.
8-13-91 Buffalo.
I have a little poem about rising early:
You can have your words,
and you can do your wishin”,
but I shant be up before the birds
‘lest I am a going fishing.
I began this trip, rising before the sun, on a Saturday morning, three and a half weeks ago. The mission was entitled P.P.C. “Peregenatio Pro Christo”, or Traveling for Christ. Having boarded the bus I found a wad of gooey gum stuck to my shoe. I hoped it was good luck. I was leaving from the Buffalo Greyhound station. And headed north.
There were many Blacks and Hispanics on board. I am white, and waging a personal war against racism. As I encountered them I chanted softly, “have mercy, I love you. Forgive me, God Bless you”. At the Albany bus station I met a beautiful girl on her way to Tennessee. She carried a crystal, and a turkey feather tied to her duffle. She was a true earth child, and was on her way to a commune.
At the Albany bus depot, a young man was escorted into the men’s room by uniformed officers. He was stripped and searched.
As we continued north on the Northway we passed through the rugged peaks of the Adirondack Mountains. There were magnificent peaks and escarpments on both sides. I was making mental notes for a place to travel to where I could escape civilization.
Purple flowers adorned the roadsides.
At 6:30 pm. I arrived at the Maria Regina Retreat House. It is a huge mansion, about eighty years old. It is run by Catholic nuns. An aged nun named Francis answered the door. Our purpose here was to take a parish census, and establish praesidiae, small groups, of the Legion of Mary. Praesidiae act as the hands of the priests, bridging the gap between the church and the community. Through this lay apostolate entitled the Legion of Mary, its members work to establish sanctification. This is done by laboring to bring others closer to God, and His mother, Mary.+.
We find the babies in need of Christening. We find the housebound and the aged, that they may be brought the sacraments. We encourage the non-churched and the fallen away to turn to the faith. Those who are up to date with their faith we beckon to pray the rosary daily or perhaps become and active legionary.
To this end, we spoke at the masses, greeted people at the entrances, and as a group visited almost two thousand homes. Becoming a member of this legion has brought me much joy and fulfillment.
When meeting groups of people for the first time, remembering names can be difficult. Remembering names, however, can be as easy as writing them down in a notebook, and reading them four or five times.
I had a chance to make Jesus make sense to two teenagers, at the backdoor of the church. I spoke of the danger of chemical enlightenment; I explained that crime and sexual sin destroy the soul. I shared four points of spiritual growth. These four points are prayer, charity, labor, and self denial.
I learned a natural treatment for cataracts from one of the sisters. She is using plantain, eyebright, fresh carrot juice, and grapefruit. As a panacea she recommends sunflower seeds. And cod liver oil with orange juice for arthritis.
Into the pool of conceptual gems, I tossed the theories of biological transmutation and psychic fusion. The essential underlying belief of these two theories is that even solid, physical reality exists in a state of flux.
I have not mentioned that I jumped in as chief cook and bottle washer. Thinking ahead, I brought my card file of recipes along.
I’ve heard many times that groveling is a negative behavior. However, I have never understood what groveling is. Groveling is being overcome thinking that things are not OK. It is redoing, re-seeking, and rearranging things that are really OK. It is digging for the keys when you know well they are there. Or returning home to check the lock on the door, when you are certain it is locked.
Another sister presented me with a spiritual diamond. While preparing lunch she sang a traditional Christian song.
“One day at a time Sweet Jesus.
That’s all I’m asking from you.
Give me the strength to do every day,
what I’ve got to do.
Yesterday’s gone sweet Jesus ,
Tomorrow may never be mine…
Today we went door to door, lighting the flame of the Holy Spirit. Where the fires were already lit, we fanned the flame. We were a walking altar call. Our afternoon visits were full of laughter, song, promises and prayer.
In Morning Prayer today, I shouted and pounded the Bible. It was an attempt, in the style of fire and brimstone, to dispel darkness and sleep. It seemed to work.
One of the nuns returned here from a visit to Cape Cod. When she walked in, there was a troubled look on her face. However, within an hour, we had her singing along.
Another of the good sisters asked me if I was fully sanctified. Could I give up my life today, if were asked of me? My reply was yes, I am ready to go. I could lay down my life tonight, if necessary.
It seems that there are so many Catholics here praying the Rosary daily that something miraculous might happen any day. As we travel door to door, my faith grows stronger day to day. Not anywhere, at any time has my witness been received as it has been here.
We encountered several mixed marriages. Mormon and Catholic, Methodist and Catholic, I see an negative pattern. Parents in these situations don’t know which way to go, so they don’t do anything. The religious education of the family neglected.
As we travel house to house, I urge people to return to the basics. I recall to them the sorry state of world affairs. I beckon each soul to return to practice charity, prayer, and self denial.
Over 10,000 members of this Legion of Mary have been martyred since it’s inception in the 1920’s.
This morning, in mass, we had a teaching on freedom. Even a prisoner can be free. True freedom is not a physical state, but spiritual, mental and moral purity.
Pornography is the staff of American entertainment, advertising, and styles. Television, newspaper, theatre, radio, all to some degree employ pornography. The clothing styles one witnesses in public are often subtly pornographic.
We have met many World War II vets this week. One can sense the scars the horrible war left on their psyche. Our Lady of Fatima’s message remains the same. Mankind will pray and practice obedience to God’s laws, or destruction will come to the world. The world’s evils, all the world’s evils are a consequence of sin.
When I was an inmate at Saint Lawrence State Psychiatric Hospital, the hospital guards asked me what my dreams in life were. My answer was to become a fighter and a sex star. Thereupon I was driven to my knees for another year of prayer. Answering the same question, a year later, my answer was to become a saint. A fellow inmate said to me, there is nothing easier to conceive, nor harder to attain, than Sainthood.
I must note that when going door to door, it is good to take a step back after knocking. Also if the resident is hostile, it is best not to linger.
One of the brothers that accompanied us related to me how the taking of the Eucharist, on a daily bases, steadily strengthened his entire being. I would love to take communion daily.
Yesterday, one of the sisters showed me her five first class relics. She possesses a piece of Mother Mary’s robe, a piece of Peter’s flesh, and a splinter from the cross.
Sometimes, in the USA, there seems to exist a law that all citizens be on medications. If a person is not ill, corporate medicine insists that such person be assigned a sickness. Another facet of the myth of mental illness. Psychiatry’s cardinal sin is not permitting religious expression. Psychiatry’s sin places the ascending saint and the psychotic in the same filthy hell hole. This because atheistic science knows neither God nor His children. Thus faith, prayer, self denial, and charity are all signs of sickness to a doctor who to denies the existence of God.
I am realizing how we need other people to define our identity. I try to always behave as would a saint, but often find myself worn out by endless giving.
We took a cruise on Lake Champlain today. We passed Saint Michael Island, which is covered by poison ivy.
I began to feel washed out, weakened, with mood swings every few hours. The physical pain and emotional oscillation were approaching crises. I had to reach deep within to discover the source of this problem, which I took as a protein deficiency. I had been vegan for three years. I had eggs and rice, and the symptoms abated.
A brother was sharing insights on Sunday. He shared how Protestants are drawn to Catholicism because we believe the Eucharist is the actual body and blood, not just a symbol.
He continued suggesting that when one is anxious about speaking publically, holding a crucifix in one hand is consoling. Yesterday, our merry band was traveling by auto to an outlying area where we were to work. On the way back we saw a dust devil sweeping across a cornfield. A dust devil is a small tornado.+.
The same brother dropped another pearl. When one has to speak publicly, begin preparing by writing out one’s ideas fourteen day earlier. Write the speech, tear it up. Write it again the next night, read it and tear it up. Do the same each night until the day of the speech. The speech will be fully created and firmly in mind by the time it is to be delivered.
Sister K., one of the nuns, laid it on the line regarding not coming to mass regularly. “The old boy, the devil, gives us a hundred excuses for not attending mass. But there’s really no excuse”.
We knocked on the door of the family of a retired iron miner. This old hero worked forty-six years in the iron mines at Lyon Mountain. He once fell sixty feet down mine shaft, but survived, just breaking bones. This man lost over fifty co-workers in mining accidents.
Whenever a miner was killed, a special whistle was sounded. The wives at home in the surrounding hills would worry and pray until it was known who was killed.
I am considering the spirit of condemnation. I will use the example of cleaning on the Sabbath day. One authority will damn you for working on the Sabbath. Another will damn you for leaving things dirty. Another will criticize you for staying up the night before to get things done. Condemnation is like a web. But “there is no condemnation in Jesus”.
Last night in meditation my thoughts began; “We are all from out of town. I am the first of this group to feel the nature of this land. The reason so many people here are praying the Rosary is that they hear the land the land breathing a silent warning, breathing in silent pain. Perhaps there will be peace. Perhaps I will be forgiven for being, and caring, and knowing.
As the priest raised the Eucharist he said, “let us take time to remember the sorrow of men”.
We did five hours of knocking on doors today. One man we encountered was a fundamentalist. He preached “saved by faith, not by works”. I had to quote James where it says “show me faith without works, I will show you faith by my works”. I continued saying scripture foretells a time when the law will no longer be needed, for the spirit shall live in the hearts of all men.
One of the ladies in our group mentioned how the Catholic in Russia and Poland is built on the blood of martyrs. There exists a terrible fascism in America as well. it is, however, disguised very well.
Sister T. gave us another old remedy, this one for a headache. A headache , she said, can be drawn out by a wash cloth saturated with warm vinegar place on the forehead.
Sister K. advanced her reputation by singing, dancing, and yodeling for us in the park last night. She has a contagious and cheery giggle that enlivens all of us. I tease her, mimicking her giggle. I hope my cajoling does not offend her.
We visited the home of an elderly lady. She shared how she had been miraculously cured of a fatal illness by the prayer and counseling of a Catholic brother.
Whenever we visit a home touched by mental illness, I always leave a word of hope.
The Legion is one experience where you get more out of it than what you put into it. This work settle in the belly, like a good, hot meal.
In group prayer this morning there was an orange glow in the room. Good vibrations.
The ladies in our group have had a success. They have begun a new presidium in an old folks home.