The Latin Mass: A Tribute by Jonathan

Unto the Ages of Ages! Unity. A voice is heard crying in the night. Crying in the wilderness. Unity! It cries out to me the loudest. How long has it been, Unity that you have been stifled? As though you had been forgotten, left behind? I have not forgotten you. I cry out aloud, deeper in my soul, Unity! What am I to do now that the world has forgotten about you? Should I seek a shelter in some other lover's charms? You are the Way. To whom else would I turn? Nay! Even if the world should turn its back on you, I will choose you with all of my heart. You are Jesus. How long forgotten as if you had nothing left to say? Could it be possible that Jesus Himself would stop speaking? Nay! The Holy Ghost speaks to us in the silence and through the Latin Mass. Unto Ages of Ages. A voice calls out in the night, crying in the wilderness. Silence! For it is in this silence God speaks. Eternally. Forging forward, I know there is a reason you have persevered. I know that you are the future of true worship. You are the Morning Star of worship. You are a barrier in keeping the world at bay. I know that if God approved of worship, it would be within you. Eternally. You have captured my heart. All that is within you. They say to follow you rejects the Word. I ask, is it fitting to obey the Word at the expense of disobeying God? If God told you something contrary to His Word, what would be your reaction? For in fact, within you is more of the Bible than elsewhere. You are so glorious. It is true that Truth doesn't compete. It simply persists until proven right. In faith and eternally. The first time I met you, it was like meeting the woman of my dreams. Nay! It was like meeting God. It was actually meeting God. The bells! The solitary, reverberating triumph of Christ's victory permeating the silence like thunder on a cool, summer's night. I have found that which my soul longs for. In you, I find Jesus. The eternal chorus of Heaven's symphony, you are a glimpse of the perfection of the Kingdom. We have forgotten about love. It is no wonder that priest saints were known to have extended their saying of you for literally hours. In the bureaucracy of man's will interfering in the practise of true religion, we have forgotten that true religion is love. It is no wonder you have been stifled. The religion of the adult is very different from the religion of the child. A child knows how to love. The first time I met you, I wondered at the people within your care. So different from anything I have seen in the New Rite. They love as children, A voice calls in the night. Reverence! This is the key to true worship. Who, knowing they are in the presence of God, would approach with anything less? Holy fear, deepest concern and care. As if approaching God Himself. God loves His children either way. Isn't it right? Isn't it fitting and just? A voice calls in the wilderness. Do not harden your hearts. Sin is attractive. It is not too late. Reverence will restore what has been taken, indeed, will melt the heart of the world. A voice calls again in the night. Jesus! it cries. It is about Jesus. Not the world. We are called to be apart from the world. You, you awesome bastion of Heaven's gate, are testimony of how set apart we are. For it is within you, within your care that we learn how to love. My heart pounds eagerly within my chest when I am with you. They say truth does not divide. If this were the case, there would, in fact, be no truth. Not everything can be so true. Yet you are so tolerant and without a sound. Simply inviting and imploring those who are within earshot, to return to worship God as He deserves. As He desires. Still, you are so tolerant. Even accepting as holiness other means of worship in order that God be praised. God be praised. Name of God! Only, do it with reverence. A voice calls out in the night, eagerly crying in the wilderness. Approach Jesus with reverence again. It is not too late. He is holy. He deserves no less!

A Poem by Shadow-Light-source

That I should never sleep again. Show me the way to escape this thundering terror. So alone and yet so. . . I believed it about myself. How could it be that one so broken, could at the same time be so holy? They succeeded with me. Among the many within us. They managed to work their shame on me. How tragic? How pitiable?? I have been so programmed that I have forgotten how to faith. What is faith? I never learned. Part of me desires the promises of the world. Because I do not understand how to access the promises of faith. I have faith. But it is misdirected. I wish for you all to see that beneath my story, I am a man. Nay! I am a child. I am only a very hurting child. It perplexes me that you should forget about me so often. Thought I deserved it. I did not know any better. I have such disdain for myself. I have done horrible things myself because I believed it about myself. These ways that I have reacted have driven deeper the shame on my heart. I have been programmed to believe that people in the world are responsible for my pain. Out in the open. Get out! No longer my secret! They worked extra hard at this program. I desire to work with my core. I need truth to come and for people to understand. I emerged fully when the authority came and I was recourse to defend my own abusers. I was scared of everything. Even of being happy. Somehow, to be happy, would be to justify their abuses. I have been taught the world is evil. Satan filled my mind with images of the dreadful, sinful place the world is. Where sin is rewarded and holiness punished. Still, I choose to be holy. I am triggered when. . . oops, I don't want to tell you that. I am very close internally to another alter. I am close to Rage. I am responsible for the agitation we feel. We are afraid of ourself. I am not bad, am I? I am only hurt, right? I am the culmination of trauma within. I am very stumbled. I commit sin because I was sinned against. Sin is all that I know. I don't know what to do with my feelings. They terrify me. I have closed myself because I fear myself. I am the one who fronts when we experience humiliation and when we have been raped after the age of twenty. I feel like a cup of humiliation, ready to overflow. The first thing Jonathan asked me was 'why are my likes and values so different from everything else I told him about myself?' The first thing I asked of Jonathan was that we would eat fish. I answered him that I am trying to escape what happened to me. I like prayer. The Jesus prayer is especially close to me. I like exercise and pop music of the early 2000's. I express myself in prayer and in encouraging others. Jonathan smiled and told me that I am doing very well. I don't see it. All I can see is the shame I feel. Am I a good person? Is what is in a person's past more important than who they are now? Both what they have been through and done? I certainly desire to be a good person. The Gospel seems to believe it too. Jonathan gave me a new name. I asked him if I could keep the name I gave myself but agreed. He named me Light-Source. I am starting to see why. What a person has experienced is not as important as who they are now. Who we are presently speaks to the work of Christ. We all have history, pasts. 

 

Authority: A Fictitious (Maybe) Account by Jonathan

Once, there were a family. The parents were quite abusive to their only son. From the day of his birth, they put him through hell. It seemed as though every time that the boy tried to tell people what was happening to him, he would only receive punishment. Once, when he was very small, he spoke up, causing the authority to come to his door. Negligent though they were, his parents coaxed him and lied to him, promised him treat and reward if he were to tell the authority that all was well. All was well. After a while, the boy began to learn that he was safer not to tell. Now, to the outside world, this family seemed picture perfect. The boy’s mama seemed a perfect example of femininity. The boy’s poppa worked good business. Nobody knew there was this sinister secret. The boy’s parents were Satanists. They were ritually abusing him and raising him for destruction. Tell though the boy may, nobody seemed to ever grow the wiser. His elderly grandfather knew about the abuse that was happening. His elderly grandfather had been trying to get the authority to help the boy for years. But since the boy’s first experience with the authority, they put a mark in his file saying that the boy had to report himself. By this time, the boy had grown so shamed and hurt that he had begun to empathize with his parents. One day, the boy went to school where he was bullied heavily. A group of peers took an especial disliking to this boy and beat him within an inch of his life. The boy was so terribly wounded that he could not move for the next year. The parents of the boy continued to abuse him following this injury. But still, everybody seemed to think that they were glorious, almost magical parents. This tore the boy’s heart and he didn’t know what to think. The parents took to the news after and became friendly with the authority because of legal work they were doing. One day, when the boy was still in a wheelchair, the parents brought him to a gathering of the local media. It was a delight for all to see him. The media made such a big deal about the parents and this boy. A member of the authority seemed very pleased with the boy’s poppa. He took the two aside and told the poppa ‘if there is ever anything I can do to help you, just say the word’. The poppa glanced down at the boy in his wheelchair and said, ‘You could have my son’s record removed.’ The member of the authority looked around nervously and then said, ‘He doesn’t have a criminal record. What do you mean?’ Poppa responded, ‘When he was younger, there were some nonsense claims, claims, which may have been recorded. These must be removed.’ The member of the authority looked down at the boy questioningly. The boy believed his poppa wanted the best for him. It was all so confusing. The boy nodded naively. ‘This would mean I would have to go through the head authority registry. I could not do this if I tried. It would mean my career.’ Poppa responded, ‘You asked what you could do. This is what you can do.’ The boy looked around whimsically. The family left that day. The abuse continued. Years later, the boy recovered enough to stand for himself. He took his complaint to the authority, not remembering all of this. There was no evidence. Additional years passed. 

This story is entirely fictitious. If you think it bears resemblance to anyone’s life, maybe you are reading too much into it. Anyways, this is the reason the authority are threatened by and do not want to help this fictitious boy.

Politics

I also started to recognize the fact that my internet viewing history was public for everyone nearby my device. This whole surveillance thing had been happening for the past ten years or more. This, friends, is how people came to know my politics. I had been always silent about politics prior to this. When people would ask, I would simply smile and shake my head. When I began to recognize that the political videos and articles I was viewing online were visible to others and then broadcast to the world through these people, my message was obscured by a constant defense of my character and an apology for the things I had done. It seemed as though the second, people started to get wind of my politics, they began looking for ways to discredit and demonize me. Friends, my politics are shared by about half of the Western world. I am only a very disabled man, exercising his right at free thought. We still believe people are allowed to have private thoughts, don't we? Communism is a heresy in the Church. I am not the first person to say it. Every single pope since Marx has uniformly done the same.

Don’t forget that the bulk of my message prior to people discovering my politics was simply that children need love for their childhoods and that love is discipline as well. Don’t get so mesmerized with my politics that you forget my actual message. Children need love, that trauma accumulates and we need to process that pain, fill the void with positivity of Gospel Truth, that we need to build for ourselves a firm foundation upon the love of Christ. What is your motivation for not believing that I have changed in my heart? Maybe it’s a matter of politics. Only. With no base in reality. Politics. Only. The fact that I have a different opinion from you is not a mortal sin. My politics are not mortal sin. People are allowed to believe what they will.

My politics are only my opinion. I do not represent anyone. This issue is extraneous to my message. This means that when you assess my reputation and tainted history, you will not associate it with this cause in a negative light. Y’all keep looking to my past to distract from my message. There will not be a shortage. People are stumbled into sin, the earlier the trauma, the earlier the evil one begins. It is a miracle that I turned out so well. I was stumbled and abused from the day of my birth. We are all sinners and more alike than you want to believe. Which really strikes me as odd, seeing how everybody is scrambling trying to dig into others pasts at the moment, to villainize them. Like those same people are good. You will not associate my negative reputation (whenever it is remembered – in the future or already remembered) with this cause. However, you will not use the fact that I do not represent this cause as a reason to vilify it. Any truth is usually more valuable than the people who believe it or even teach it. Even though it is the people who give it it’s value. Truth makes sense of everything. Assess the fact that I have spent daily the last years, intensely studying Hebrew and interacting with native speakers to develop my language skills. Because it’s not the first time that we’ve been through this and I kind of already know what’s on the tip of your tongues. 😉 I emboldened the winky face to emphasize my impatience. Even the Pope is entitled to an opinion. Watch your place of worship. All I am saying. You worshipping god? Or you worshipping politics? Is your faith strong enough to trust God for the change the world needs? Thankful for the fact that politics is not going to be what brings ultimate change to the world. I am thankful for the revival that is surely coming. I am still not making a political statement. God is greater than politics. Where is your worship? Realizing why politics is so important to people. There is so little faith in God’s ability to change the world. They will have you convinced that my present politics are a mirror of my past. I am not racist. I was angry at what my abusers were doing to me. I will have you know that I have not once made an argument about or against a particular political ideology. Besides, politics are not race. If politics are not open to criticism, what is? If you are angry at my politics, you are in fact criticising Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. How much longer will you forget what I am saying? No, no one should be written off, cancelled. As is evident in the life of Saul of Tarsus and practically every other person Christ healed/called, Christianity is very much about the possibility of and celebrating the changes of people after experiencing Christ. At the core of the Gospel is the belief of the possibility of people to change. The way I am acting is not darkness. I am injured. Do you think I fell off of a bike? I had a terribly serious brain injury. Forgive the language, but you’d have to be an idiot to think that the behavior I exhibited for up to five years following that injury were character traits. I was reacting.

There is one reason I am being chosen as a political sacrifice. Because they know I am not strong enough. Faith without a foundation is not enough. A boxer can have faith he will win a fight. Without training, he will not be successful. Please, in the name of God, don’t be deceived. Please, do not let your politics make you forget compassion. There is really only one question you should be asking. Is it Christian? Have you made Christ’s new teaching, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth? Is envy a new Christian virtue? The reason they desire to publicly shame me is the same reason they broadcast my confession sin matter and spy on my privacy. They want to humiliate me. Except, if you believed my story, you would know that every way I reacted was a reaction to how I was treated. Therefore, it is extremely unjust what you have planned.

Boundaries

I don’t have boundary issues. I repressed my sexuality almost entirely when I was fourteen because of what two abusers were doing to me. It emerged for a while but is repressed again after the way she reacted. My sexuality has been damaged enough. When I run quickly behind people, this is because my back is giving out and I am looking, subconsciously, for something to brace myself. It’s an instinct. But it’s more of a physical difficulty than a boundary difficulty. I have barely ever collided with anyone. I am in control. Please don’t intentionally stand close to me when I am struggling like this. Just when I am caught off guard, when I have been seated for a while, when I am nervous or excited, my muscles become rigid. When someone is seated and I sit next to them, sometimes I come close to them to sit. Like if they’re across from me, my head will come close to them as I lower myself into the chair. The reason for this is because my legs, hips and core are extremely tight and do not allow me to gently lower myself all of the time. This is the reason I usually grab the seat on which I am sitting with an arm and lower myself from the side. If I do have a few boundary issues, it’s only because in my childhood, adolescence and early adulthood, my boundaries were smashed almost hourly. It’s a miracle I am the man I am today. Again, the reason I lean forward when I stand, is because my legs are not strong enough to lift me. The reason I rock when standing is because my hips are tight because of atrophy and spasticity. I can imagine that these things may seem like I am trying to touch others when I am close to them, like in Mass or on the bus. I guarantee you that is foolishness. I have difficulty standing still. 

Can I ask a serious, albeit, weird question: Why do people at church think I am always sniffing people’s behinds? It is really, terribly weird and it is making me dreadfully uncomfortable. I have spent the past six years trying to adjust the way I stand up when people are seated in front of me. I try to turn my head 90 degrees so as to make it blatant that this I am not doing. I have even had to deal with people sitting behind me in church and overtly sticking their own noses into my behind. Guys, it’s terribly weird. How did you get this in your minds’? Maybe once, I inhaled deeply while standing at church. To explain: in the beginning months of winter, my asthma flares up. Because my legs are weak, I sometimes propel myself forward to gain momentum to stand. Because of the pressure this places on my diaphragm, I guess I breathe deeply when standing. Another reason is because I am trying to watch what others are doing. I don't want to sit and get a face full of someone's butt. Just trying to be attentive to others. Guys, I am dreadfully sorry that you got this impression. Even more sorry that it has carried on this long. My goodness.  

I could go on for hours. After all, it is the reason I have to continue saving documents in my private computer. In reading St Faustina’s Diary, I am beginning to recognize that when people are unjustly suspicious of you or when you are unjustly accused, it is like a crown of suffering that the Lord will adorn on you. Again, God will corroborate my exceptional character. Maybe I should have more faith. I wish I knew the reason you keep forgetting. I trust in God’s redeeming power. His justice, His vindication, when He redeems me, it will be so much better than anything I could say.

If you think I am controlling, you are forgetting the man I have been for the past five years. I’ll admit, I possess the capacity for narcissism. As do you. As does even the healthiest amongst us. I don’t have narcissism. I have cPTSD and DID. I have only over the past couple weeks begun exploring assertiveness. I am just realizing how much people have taken advantage of me over the past ten, fifteen, twenty years. Excluding my childhood, which were chains. You have seen Sound of Freedom. Not every child gets saved from these experiences. While I was lucky enough to have lived, I have never gotten the support I needed for the sex trafficking and worse that I have endured. I’ve been walked over, like a doormat since I was born. I am learning to develop healthy boundaries. You’re just becoming estranged to the emotional impact of what I have endured. The trauma of my childhood seemed, in a manner of absurd cosmic irony, to have made me the perpetual target of bullies as I got older. Treat me how you please. God sees my true nature. And I trust Him to reveal this to you. A lot of it is just misunderstanding. I am not staring people down. The reason I look at people is because I am trying to discern their intentions. I am trying to get an understanding about how people are feeling about me. That way, I know which personality to adopt to defend myself from being hurt. You say I am controlling. What you don’t see is the fact that I have been controlled literally like a ritual slave survivor since my birth. It’s not an excuse to have bad behavior. I am just learning to be assertive. I will not apologize for trying to set boundaries. For asking people without walking assistance to offer me their seat. I have often heard that when people begin to set boundaries, others will become agitated. This agitation might not have anything to do with the person setting boundaries. Do people actually expect me to roll over and accept these blatant, criminal intrusions of my privacy? The priesthood violating privacy is the gravest offence. No, people just want to feel better and justified about how they treated me. Maybe I wasn’t even really controlling with my abusers. Instead, maybe I was just trying to learn and practice the God given virtue of meekness, which is assertiveness. No, no matter how I treated them, it doesn’t compare with what they did to form me. I was a baby. When the memories of what they were doing to me were suppressed, even while this abuse of theirs was still going on, I couldn’t articulate the injustice. Because my mind would shut down to it. It did not mean the injustice was not still happening. It did not mitigate the effects of their treatment. I didn’t have anything to do with the emotions. It vented in other ways. Because it was not safe to feel or express it.

The Angel I See in You by Fawn (A part of me)

Overwhelming. How can I even think to speak? My childhood existence is a blur. Visible one moment, the next gone entirely. A blur of trauma, of ritual and of violence. Always a choice of the adult. I was completely innocent. No child is ever guilty. I will never forget the day when I was born in you, Jonathan. How could I forget? What else was I to do after being raped and by one so close? I curled up in my closet and prayed to God. I prayed to whoever would hear me. They too must have heard my prayer. Too young to know anything else, I was four years old. Lord have mercy. Step behind me Satan. How could I say it? Nobody sought my spiritual well-being. Nobody instructed me in the ways of God. On the contrary, it seemed as though everything they did was geared for my destruction. What else could I have done when physical demons manifested to me? I was horrified, paralysed, mortified. It is true, the darkness takes advantage of our suffering. Even and especially in children. They told me that it was pointless to stand up for myself. They told me that I am helpless, meaningless, worthless. I was four years old. No one cared for me spiritually, less told me about Jesus. In hindsight, I would have been thankful. Horrified, what child could stand up against a demon? From this day forward, whenever I fronted, I would see, manifest physically, the demons attached to all who passed. They taunted me. So many of them. So scared, I was. My existence is fear. I have learned that the best way to avoid them is to try to make them happy. I remember praying another day. For the entirety of my childhood, there was no distinction between how the demons treated me and how even random people treated me. It seemed like I triggered the darkness in everyone I met. I remember praying another day that I don't want everybody to be angry at me any more. I prayed to whoever would hear me. I will never forget the day. It was after my handler had raped me. I was surrounded with the brightest light, enveloped entirely. It was like a glorious cawl of comfort. I met God that day. And like with the tiny, healing hands of a thousand angels, God spoke with me. Unlike anything I had ever experienced, my soul was pasted as with a healing balm. He said to me, 'Daughter, you are my favourite. There is a reason that you are here. There is a reason for your being.' I asked Him, 'Why then, does everybody hate me?' He said to me, 'Daughter, it is because they sense your light and it offends the darkness within them.' I asked Him, 'Why then, am I cursed with seeing in people what no one else does?' He said to me, 'Daughter, you will learn to view it as a great blessing. You will learn to harness this gift.' I asked Him, 'When?' He replied, 'Daughter, I know your heart. You are so simple, so pure. All you desire is to draw pictures, collect flowers and play with animals. You must know there will be a time for this peace. But now, you are called to battle.' 'Me? A child?' I cried. 'But of course!' He replied, 'Daughter, this time is where the entire human being is shaped and formed.' Ever since this experience, I now see two groups of figures surrounding everyone I meet. The first are the demons attached to them. The other group are their angels fighting and resisting these demons. I do not know if they know I can see them. For the longest time, I couldn't harness this gift. I could not learn to see it as a gift. Until I met you, Shemesh. I was wandering aimlessly until I met you. In nobody else have I seen what I see in you. You are the only person around whom I see no demons. I see only the brightest of angels.

An Account by Tabula Rasa (A part of me)

We are program of the Ritual. A mirror of society. We are like society's worst. The addicts, the violent, the mentally ill. We are deemed unsaveable by a society that has given up on us. Are we really society's worst? Are we truly unsaveable? Tell me once again your thoughts. It truly breaks my heart. Am I truly unlovable? Maybe it's only that to show me love would be inconvenient, uncomfortable, unpopular. We are troubled yet still we understand what love is. If you all, you all who judge us as unacceptable, if you all knew the truth, you would surely understand. Has society's heart grown cold? It's like as a people we hone in onto the sins of others, taking delight in their punishment. It's been happening for millennia. But hey, it's a distraction from our own sin and from the knowledge that we, by every measure, deserve the exact same judgement. These programs have overtaken us. They have shaped us entirely. We are so confused. Our confusion is perpetuated by the shaming of society. Truly, if you knew the truth, the real truth, you would understand. There is no love within us. What is love? A hurt child will learn to avoid love. As too painful. We push it away. Because it terrifies us. We cannot reveal the manner in which we emerged. It is far too painful. We will say that each of us emerged within the context of a sick and twisted ritual. We have grown to believe that when people hurt us, they are in fact, offering us love. We suppressed the need for love. Never satiated. Never satisfied. We learned to compensate. Redefining, simply redefining what love is for us. Love to us is rape. Love to us is torture. Love is starvation. We learning to find meaning in that. Polarising what it is to love and be loved. Was it ever a choice we made? Never a choice made. But rather, the guardian's choice. We do not feel safe to emerge. We are weighed down by programming of the ritual doctors. A lot of us are still developing. Stunted permanently in growth. You asked me confidently whether I were the only alter not in your control. I answered, yes, of course. You asked me even more confidently if I was sure about it. To which I answered, no. Truth told, there are many of us even who are fighting against you. Joshua Hope persuaded me to share this information with you. I am Tabula Rasa, the name given by my handlers. I am the only one of us able to speak to you. I am only going to share this once. We are all born in great tragedy. But I want to tell you that when both you and Joshua Hope accept healing, we all will accept healing. Ground yourself. You need fight! Pray! Do it, don't do it. It's up to you. Our hope is in you. Break the contract. You are stronger than that. Secretly, even I want God's blessings. It just feels like we don't know how to accept them. We all do want them too. Only hardened by life's turns. Turns, which should not be anyone's to burden. We believe in you. Especially when we say we don't. Save us!