Pt. 2
From that moment, Our Lord and Our Lady ruled the evening, and not once was their reign interrupted. Father stepped up to the microphone and began, and these are his exact words since a fellow parishioner video taped it and provided a transcript. It should give you, as it did me and the rest of the faithful Catholics in attendance, goosebumps:
"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. My name is Father Michael McMahon, I am the pastor at St. Margaret Mary Catholic Church in Allendale, Michigan. I would like to welcome you to the basilica tonight, the basilica of St. Adelbert. If you will notice in the pews you will probably see that there is a campaign going on to restore the glory of the basilica. [Holds up pamphlet from pew] That is what we are here tonight to do. We are going to begin to restore the glory of this basilica. If you go back to the etymology of the word basilica, it comes from a Greek word meaning royal; it means a "house fit for a king". And therefore, Holy Mother Church, the One True Catholic Church, in her wisdom, took that Greek word, which was also used by the Romans in ancient times, and used it for where, behind these pictures [gestures towards Bhuddist signs and placards in front of the altar], is the tabernacle, which as Catholics know by the word of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is where He, in the Holy Eucharist, in a mysterious and mystical way, resides. And therefore, because it is the One True God, necessarily the basilica is built around it, the house of the King.
And therefore, tonight, while certainly we mean no disrespect to these gentlemen who have come very far to be here at this basilica, rather it is a shame on the Catholic men who allow such a thing to happen, we are beginning the restoration tonight of this basilica. Therefore, in honor of St. Adelbert, for the glory of the Catholic Church, and also to honor the Mother of God whose feast day, Our Lady of Lourdes, we are going to do what this basilica was made for. We do not wish to disappoint those who came for the reason which was advertised, rather what is going to happen, is that Catholic men are going to pray in this Catholic Church.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."
The poor event organizer who had asked Father to speak, and who stood by him the entire time, waiting for Father to finish so he could introduce the monks, became visibly and increasingly less comfortable the longer Father spoke - it took a few seconds for the realization of what was going on to hit him.
By this time the monks had already filed onto the "stage," and they, too, looked rather dumbfounded as Father finished his announcement, knelt at the foot of the altar steps, and intoned the Credo (Credo III, for those of you who know your Gregorian chant). It was truly a glorious moment: the coordinator, standing with his mouth agape in front of what was clearly a majority-Catholic audience; the monks, all lined up and staring at a man in a black cassock who was now kneeling in front of them, chanting true prayers, having clearly hijacked the event; and the sound... oh... the sound of some 200 Catholics, chanting Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, in a basilica whose acoustics easily make 200 voices sound like 200,000 voices.
I got choked up. Who wouldn't? No sooner had they sung the first few lines, "I believe in one God, the Father almighty," than they had effectively denounced the heresy of Buddhism's polytheism, and filled the air with the reaffirmation of the Truth: there is one God, and He alone is all-powerful.
Arise, O Lord
As the Catholics chanted, Father motioned to two of men of the Holy Name Society, who proceeded to approached the Buddhist's display (which was covering the altar, you'll remember) and began tearing it down. The large picture of the Panchen Lama was removed first, followed by the several signs, until the altar was once again visible.
The two Holy Name Society members then joined Father in kneeling at the foot of the altar, and continued the Credo. When the chant had ended, the truth proclaimed, and the first major blow struck against the forces of darkness, one of the men began leading the Holy Rosary. It didn't take long for people to realize that this group of Catholics did not intend to go away any time soon. By the time the second decade of the Joyful Mysteries was under way, many in the audience who had come to hear the monks were picking up their things and leaving. One gentleman even took back the donation he had made earlier for the monks' monastery project.
Here are a few of the things I overheard in the back of the sanctuary from the shocked and angry audience members:
"That priest hijacked this service!"
"Did I just walk into a protest against the monks? You gotta freaking be kidding me! This is the sickest thing I've ever seen!"
"Can we fight back? Let's go up there and stand with the monks! We should be supporting the monks!"
"You might as well be committing genocide - they have no respect for human rights!"
It was almost too much to bear without either laughing or crying. The Holy Rosay is the "sickest thing" you've ever seen? Praying to Our Lady "might as well be" genocide? It was tempting to turn around ask the young lady who said these words if she was a supporter of baby-butchering (also known as being "pro-choice"), but I did not wish to give myself away just yet. The basilica pastor, who was not on vacation after all, was contacted by one of the event coordinators, who were all, by the way, running around like dizzy chickens, with no idea what was happening or how to stop it. When Father DeYoung arrived, he surveyed the situation and took immediate action. He marched straight up front and took his rightful place beside Father McMahon, kneeling at the altar steps to assist this Catholic crowd in praying the Rosary to Our Lady. Sorry, my mistake.
Rather, Father DeYoung marched straight to the front and tried to get a few words in with Father McMahon, who clearly was not interested in "dialogue" at that particular time. So Father DeYoung did what any sane priest of Holy Mother Church would do when he saw a large crowd of Catholics praying the Rosary, obviously concerned about having Buddhist religious prayers being chanted in a Catholic Church: he called the police.
The police escorted Father McMahon out of the sanctuary at around 8:30 to try and sort things out with him, but it was clear that they were confused by the whole situation. Why was a Catholic priest calling in law enforcement to have another Catholic priest removed from the scene? They were as confused as I was. I did not get to overhear what was said between the police and Father McMahon, but since nothing really happened in terms of the protesters being asked to leave, I can only gather that the police were unwilling to intervene in a situation that was not, technically, illegal. This was probably the second time during the evening that I realized just how powerful Blessed Mother really is. While the boys in blue continued chatting with the man in black, the protesters continued reciting the Rosary, while the monks continued to stand up front, looking rather silly and unsure of what to do. And while the monks continued to look out of place (which they really were - the sight of robed Buddhist monks standing in front of a Catholic high altar is one of the oxymoronic images that will remain with me for a long time), Father DeYoung continued to pace the aisles, trying desperately to get the Rosary leader to shut up and listen to reason. Finally, mercifully, one of the coordinators went up front, whispered to one of the monks, and escorted them all off the platform. At last, the altar and sanctuary were once again fully visible, and the place was truly starting to look Catholic again.
This was the third time that I came face-to-face with serpent-crushing heel of Her Majesty, the Queen of Heaven. I wish that there were words that could describe to you the scene, some way to convey a small part of the "buzz" in the room. The sound of 200 voices, still sounding like 200,000 voices, continued to fill the entire basilica: "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, amen."
I closed my eyes: yes, this was the sound of a veritable army. This was the sound of the Church Militant. This was the sound of the prophets of Jehovah, overpowering the prophets of Baal. This was, above all, the sound of the army of the Lord of Hosts, beating back the forces of evil with hardly a whimper of resistance. And I am not one who easily lapses in mystical ecstasies, but I could almost swear to you that I heard,as I shut my eyes and just listened to the unrelenting jack-hammer of Aves, the sound of angelic voices joining in the prayers. I saw briefly, if only in my mind, ten million saints, virgins, martyrs, and confessors draw their swords and charge into the enemy's camp. I heard the rattle of armor and the clanging of steel against steel, and I saw the demons scattering before the onslaught.
Arise, O Lord
I began making my way toward Father DeYoung, who was still pacing the aisles and trying to get a word in with the man leading the Rosary. It was no use: the leader kept blasting his "Hail Mary's" and ignoring the invitation to "dialogue" with the derelict priest. I approached Father DeYoung, with my notepad in hand, and asked, "Father, what's going on here tonight? What's happened?" He asked who I was and who I represented, but when he found out I was reporting for Catholic Family News, he smiled insincerely and simply said, "I don't know your organization, I have no comment." And then he walked away. I personally think one of you readers should reserve your almsgiving this month for the purpose of purchasing Father a subscription. As he walked away, I overheard him say (in response to a question from a frustrated audience member) perhaps the saddest and most damning thing I heard all night: "I didn't invite these guys, I invited the monks!"
Our pastors have consistently un-invited Traditional Catholics to be a part of the Church, to exercise our duties and rights as devout members of the Church Militant. And while they're busy un-inviting us, they are simultaneously climbing into bed with the least respectable of characters. The monks were warmly welcomed to the basilica, but try to get Father DeYoung (and those who share his cancer) to welcome Traditionalists into the basilica to celebrate the Mass of the Ages. This is a hallmark of our diocese, it seems. For years the bishop turned down the requests of Traditionalists for a parish in which to celebrate the Traditional Mass, but granted the requests of a Protestant denomination to temporarily use a local parish for their meetings while their church was being renovated. In fact, it wasn't until the SSPX made an appearance in our diocese and started gathering steam that the bishop finally made arrangements for an Indult Mass. But I digress.
In the aftermath, this is how the evening news portrayed the event: "An evening of peaceful prayer soon got out of hand when a group of angry Catholics disrupted the service... police were called in to remove the protesters... no one was injured."
Father DeYoung appeared on the local news that night and said, "They [the monks] are such peaceful souls... to be accosted in this way I'm sure was shocking to them, as it was to us. To use prayer as a weapon like that..."
Yes, Father, prayer is a weapon. And we used it that night specifically for that purpose. And it worked.
But already, you can see the way the world views us. The monks are called "peaceful," and we are the "angry disrupters," who "accosted" these "quiet" monks with our "weapon" of prayer - but don't worry, "no one was injured." As if Traditionalists are a violent group, known for the number of casualties they regularly inflict on poor, peaceful souls. However, the news reporters got it wrong. Several injuries, in fact, took place that night. The prince of this world took a severe blow, as did his evil minions. The monks were ultimately shut down. By 9:00 the organizers and the monks gave up, and agreed to move the concert to the basement. Seeing that our mission had been accomplished, Father McMahon allowed the protesters to finish the 5th and final mystery of the Glorious Mysteries (yes, they prayed through all 15 decades), the Hail Holy Queen, the prayer to St. Michael, and then dismissed us to go to our homes.
We gathered in the parking lot to thank Father and to receive his blessing, and we returned to our homes, deeply grateful to Our Lady for having crushed the serpent's head in a way we never anticipated. Personally, I didn't think the Rosary would last for more than a few minutes before everyone was kicked out on the street. I had hoped, at best, to be able to momentarily disrupt the concert, and then make reparation after things had wrapped up.
But we won. No question about it. And the victory was sweet. At the same time, I realize that this is only a foretaste, and that there are many, many battles left to fight.
Arise, O Lord
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In the end, the Church Militant may be limping, but She is still capable of inflicting a good deal of damage. And after seeing what happened at the basilica that night, I can't shake the thought that if Traditionalists would take up arms and do things like this more often, maybe we'd start making some headway in this war. Why shouldn't we storm the parishes of our dioceses and take back what is ours? For one brief and glorious hour, that's exactly what happened at the basilica: that parish was truly Catholic again."
The End