Why doesn't Catholicism look like this anymore?!
#11
Processions aren't exactly common like in the Old World, but they do exist to in urban America. Chicago, for example, has a number of Assumption processions, perhaps the most notable being the Velika Gospa procession of St. Jerome Croatian Catholic Church in the south side. A copy of the icon of Our Lady of Sinj, brought from Croatia in 1912, is carried through the streets and the sounds of firecrackers punctuate the affair. It can get quite loud and smoky with all the firecrackers. Afterwards, following the custom of the Croats, there is a picnic. In the 1950s, the men of the parish roasted some 100 whole lambs each year for the festivities. It has since been relocated from the church grove behind the church hall to the street and has grown into something of an ethnic street fair.

[Image: Velika%20Gospa-2006009.JPG]
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#12
They made a tv program about St. Jeromes, here's the trailer.



You'll have to follow the link I couldn't get it to work here

This is what is left of a Catholic Ghetto. Notice how neat clean and cohesive and Catholic.Read Slaughter of the Cities by E. Michael Jones and understand they hated us then and now.
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#13
(08-07-2013, 10:50 PM)Juanthetuba Wrote: As a Catholic and an opera lover, I'm naturally drawn to Operas with Catholic themes or backgrounds. The plot of Cavalleria Rusticana takes place on Easter Sunday, so at a point in the opera there's an Easter Procession to the Church. This is a movie version of the Opera directed by Franco Zeffirelli, and I was just stunned by this scene, I had to share it with you all. Do procession like this still happen in Italy? If not, what a shame...

[video=youtube] [/video]


The lyrics are:

Regina coeli laetare.
Alleluja!
Quia quem meruisti portare.
Alleluja!
Resurrexit sicut dixit.
Alleluja!

Inneggiamo,
Il Signor non è morto,
Ei fulgente
Ha dischiuso l'avel,
Inneggiam
Al Signore risorto
Oggi asceso
Alla gloria del Ciel!

Ora pro nobis Deum.
Alleluja!
Gaude et laetare, Virgo Maria.
Alleluja!
Quia surrexit Dominus vere.
Alleluja!

Beautiful, I wonder about the same thing....Thanks for posting this video.
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#14
(08-08-2013, 10:22 AM)Tim Wrote: In my estimation it doesn't look like that because the west is no longer poor. I'd bet a dollar to a doughnut that was filmed in Sicily or southern Italy.

tim

And I bet you're exactly right. It's fascinating and sad that we have so much materially but are spiritually impoverished. We should be the most content creatures in the History of the world based on material wealth and physical comfort, but we're miserable and neurotic. I was talking to my Aunt Teresa a couple of days ago and all this was reinforced. She's 95 years old and was telling me stories from "the good ole days" -- of the DEPRESSION. Her stories mostly focused on the poverty, the eating of pasta fazoo and kale every other night, the slips made out of flour sacks, the Christmases in which the most memorable material things were the figs and walnuts -- but she said that those days were the BEST. She said she "wouldn't trade my memories for a million dollars."

-- and look at us now, every person's face glued to a screen most of the day, no talking, always in a big fat hurry to do some ridiculous;y required thing for school or work, all the freedom in the world (unless you're a smoker) and using it all up on porn, sports, and video games, all the money in the world and spending it on fast food. We're so spoiled, and like most spoiled children, we're miserable.
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#15
I was blessed to have been at this Mass

[video=youtube]zwx0_ppmuFc[/video]

Catholicism today does look like this. The other religion is what doesn't.

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#16
(08-08-2013, 03:07 PM)Vox Clamantis Wrote:
(08-08-2013, 10:22 AM)Tim Wrote: In my estimation it doesn't look like that because the west is no longer poor. I'd bet a dollar to a doughnut that was filmed in Sicily or southern Italy.

tim

"And I bet you're exactly right. It's fascinating and sad that we have so much materially but are spiritually impoverished. We should be the most content creatures in the History of the world based on material wealth and physical comfort, but we're miserable and neurotic. I was talking to my Aunt Teresa a couple of days ago and all this was reinforced. She's 95 years old and was telling me stories from "the good ole days" -- of the DEPRESSION. Her stories mostly focused on the poverty, the eating of pasta fazoo and kale every other night, the slips made out of flour sacks, the Christmases in which the most memorable material things were the figs and walnuts -- but she said that those days were the BEST. She said she "wouldn't trade my memories for a million dollars."

-- and look at us now, every person's face glued to a screen most of the day, no talking, always in a big fat hurry to do some ridiculous;y required thing for school or work, all the freedom in the world (unless you're a smoker) and using it all up on porn, sports, and video games, all the money in the world and spending it on fast food. We're so spoiled, and like most spoiled children, we're miserable.

Reminds me of this from recently deceased Fr Charles ...


I began serving the “old Mass” as an altar boy in 1927. I am now 88 years old, 62 years as a priest. As a lad, knowing the perfect recitations of all the Latin Mass responses, I dealt with priests of every age and devotion and I do not recall any who deliberately mumbled their prayers. The churches were not air-conditioned in those days and in the hot summer days it was not uncommon to omit the sermon; Low Mass might last for only 20 minutes, and Communions were much fewer in those days. Now with the Novus Ordo, I have attended Mass in 10 minutes. A possible scandal.

The only scandal I can recall in the old days was people sleeping during the sermon. Nobody complained about the Eucharistic fast from midnight; nobody complained about Communion on the tongue or about the Latin. In fact, we were proud of the Latin we knew. Non-Catholics marveled at the piety and the reverence of the congregation and the head-coverings of the women. Those were the glory days of the Church when our Catholic faith was a family thing, a treasure we prized. Our faith was so much a part of our life that it colored our moods, shaped our social activities, influenced our style of dress, and flavored our conversation. How many families can make the same claim today?

Last Sunday I experienced what perhaps was the greatest joy of my priesthood. I could scarcely contain myself. Indeed, my cup runneth over. I celebrated the Tridentine Latin Mass with a congregation of two hundred people. It was like a repetition of my First Holy Mass 56 years ago. It was a Missa Cantata — those sacred Gregorian melodies so fitting for worship: the solemn Trinity Preface, the solemn Pater Noster, the Holy Gospel, and the Orations.

My daily vernacular Mass has been a joy in my life, but there was always something about this Tridentine Latin Mass that went beyond all telling. I’ve found something that I had lost some 35 years ago. All those years my heart ached for the Latin Mass that I had lost, always hoping that some day, please God, I would find it. Last Sunday I found it. And like the widow of the Gospel who found her lost coin and who called in her neighbors to rejoice with her, now I was the one who wanted to call in the whole world to share in my joy. It was like being away from home all these years and always hoping that some day the permission for me would arrive to return home and share again with my dear ones the joys of long ago. It was home sweet home again. My joy knows no bounds.

My humble and ineffable thanks to our good Holy Father, Pope John Paul II, the Good Shepherd who went out looking for all those abandoned sheep to lead us back home again — to Rome, sweet home.

Would I go back to the new Mass? No way!"

Rev. Charles Schoenbaechler, C.R.
Louisville, Kentucky
http://www.newoxfordreview.org/lette...d=1004-letters
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#17
My Uncle Giovanni loved half and half in his coffee. One Christmas that was everyone's Christmas present half and half for the coffee. My second cousin Mikey
nick named Diddle and his entire family lived on home made Pasta con Lentiche, another Minestra like your aunt.

In the 50's it was a time of plenty at least by humble standards. We had a small root cellar in the basement. We kept a wheel of Parmigiano Reggiano, Pecorino Romano, and Incanestrato in there. We kids; my brothers and sisters, and our cousins up stairs, were sure we were filthy rich because we had cheese for our pasta everyday. My brother Beppino nick named, put a mountain on his Penne Rigati, it looked like the Alps they said

We sent clothes back to Ne, Liguria, and Piacenza, and Piedmonte. The ladies dressed in black from head to toe would sew Ceresota flour bags around the parcels because they went by ocean liners still. If Lucille Ball was an old Italian woman this was it. They'd tell stories that were out of this world.

In turn they sent us dried mushrooms from there, and the post office wouldn't deliver them because they offended American noses. We had to pick them up or he called every day until one of kids did just that.

In Prohibition my uncles made white lightening and my Nonna helped deliver it in Swedish and Polish neighborhoods because she was "white" enough to pass for them. On May Street in the heart of Polish parish many times she had to fake speaking Polish to be safe. We had no problems delivering it in black neighborhoods we could pass there too.

That neighborhood is gone it was before Cabrini Green which now is gone too. There was a Servite Parish there S. Phillip Benizi, they had a street festival They had lumache and macone (snails) and raffled off a goat.

They had wires strung across the street with little girls dressed as angels with wings that flew across on pulleys. They roasted cece and semenza. They roasted Italian sausage for sandwiches as you strolled the street.

Father Louis got all the extra nickels, dimes and quarters to support the Parish. He was considered a saint. About a block from the Church steps was Oak and Milton Streets, it's where the likes of the 42 gang and the outfit threw the dead bodies.

Little boys played with the dead guys brains in the street. Father Louis stood up to those guys like Christ. He saved some of their souls.

St. Domeinics Church, over on Larabee Street, where my aunt Clara Bernardi lived R+I+P, and no relation to the Cardinal, the Church is still there, but refurbished completely and zipped tighter than a drum.  I've wondered many time why it's still there intact like a fossil.

In our little journey here next would be St. Michaels on North Ave. and Cleveland Street, where Dennis Farina grew up. That Church we were told by a priest from St. Georges prep school in Evanston was attacked and desecrated. It also allegedly had a visit from and old woman with hooves.

I saved the best for last when I was in my twenties I knew every Italian family in Chicago on the north and west sides. I knew who they married where they went to Church. I made fun along with my mother of the southern Italians because their Italian, bad to begin with, was morphing into another language all together. By the time I was forty there was just a whisper some may exist somewhere, and I had no idea where they went.

Chicago, Chicago that toddling town is gone.

tim
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