More Than Many Mockingbirds
Are not five sparrows sold for two small coins? Yet not one of them has escaped the notice of God.
Even the hairs of your head have all been counted. Do not be afraid. You are worth more than many sparrows.
(New American Bible, Luke, Chapter 12)
Tell me what you hear.
What broods in air?
Riders fly from Legion gate.
Tell you what I hear:
Wings flutter from Vatican fate,
And mockingbirds migrate.
Macielâ€™s Myth implodes,
On lies fed, on force;
Hearts subdued, and tears;
Chicks fly foxâ€™s coop.
Wings clipped with shears,
Defectors stumble down the stoop.
Superiors and directors â€“in turn bound-
Binding subjects, clamping down
Now, more than ever,
Ratcheting up the rack of guilt:
I am abandoning ship,
Like Esau selling my soul
For a plate of lentils,
Settling for second best:
Diocesan golden mediocrity.
Will I survive on that air?
A fish out of Legion water?
Way back in the 70s through 80s,
As the Legion began to experience
Growing pains of adult-age members;
Some began thinking for themselves:
Doubting, perhaps, or
Even dropping out.
Our tyrant Father’s manic shout:
â€œ!MÃ¡s disciplina!â€� â€œGive it to them!â€�
The Dictatorâ€™s General Chapter
Pouring out more volumes of norms,
More monitoring, more terror:
Punish with a month of spiritual exercises
Or assign a snitching bodyguard
Until they see their error, and reform.
Self-formation, â€œfrom the inside outâ€�
Unmasked as mirage, illusion;
Conditioning â€œfrom the outside inâ€� their clout;
Mindless mantras, throbbing tom-toms,
Which cannot reach our inner sanctum
-Do they really believe in the spirit human?
A reflection of himself:
Sans reflection or gentle searching;
Beset by un-faced demons;
Like the possessed at Gerasa of old,
In graveyard self-injuring with stones.
They came to the other side of the sea, to the territory of the Gerasenes.
When he got out of the boat, at once a man from the tombs who had an unclean spirit met him.
The man had been dwelling among the tombs, and no one could restrain him any longer, even with a chain.
In fact, he had frequently been bound with shackles and chains, but the chains had been pulled apart by him and the shackles smashed, and no one was strong enough to subdue him.
Night and day among the tombs and on the hillsides he was always crying out and bruising himself with stones.
Catching sight of Jesus from a distance, he ran up and prostrated himself before him,
Crying out in a loud voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me!”
(He had been saying to him, “Unclean spirit, come out of the man!”)
He asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “Legion is my name. There are many of us.”
And he pleaded earnestly with him not to drive them away from that territory.
Now a large herd of swine was feeding there on the hillside.
And they pleaded with him, “Send us into the swine. Let us enter them.”
And he let them, and the unclean spirits came out and entered the swine. The herd of about two thousand rushed down a steep bank into the sea, where they were drowned.
The swineherds ran away and reported the incident in the town and throughout the countryside. And people came out to see what had happened.
As they approached Jesus, they caught sight of the man who had been possessed by Legion, sitting there clothed and in his right mind. And they were seized with fear.
(Mark, Chapter 5)
To come close,
But inside the Legion/Regnum is there
Room for Jesus soothing or
Too much Maciel brooding?
Too much myopic Movement
Must be controlled by
Of Communism, Materialism,
Hedonism, Modernism, Liberalism;
Fear of losing vocation,
Fear of eternal damnation,
Fear of betraying Jesus, the Church,
Fear of abandoning thousands of souls
Commended to them from all eternity;
Fear the motivation:
Fear of Media information,
Fear of Maciel’s accusers;
Fear of those who challenge abusers,
Fear of you and me.
The straightjacket they don,
Shackled and chained
In that darker, dangerous,
Evidently â€“ you clearly see-
We must support fledglings that flee,
With prayer, food and water,
Or a place to rest
On the way to a better habitat.
Perching on power-lines along the way,
Swaying on tree tops, alone, yet self-possessed;
Sailing for safe haven.
Let us listen to their song:
A sigh of great relief,
A flight of free expression,
A cry of grieving creatures
Healing, finding new life.
Whistle to them and be rewarded.
How bad your efforts,
On their own,
They will embellish
With thrilling variations
They never knew they had.
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