Let us rejoice in the Lord, celebrating a festal day in honor of blessed Thomas the Martyr: at whose martyrdom the Angels rejoice, and praise the Son of God.
How Christmas flies bye! The fifth day of the Octave is already upon us. Aunt Barb and the boys are off to Salzburg, and Katie is on her way to Norcia, and thence to Roma. On St. Stephen's day, we heard the Cardinal offer Mass at the Stephansdom; for the feast of St. John we gathered in the Moses Room at the Schloss for cookies, caroling, and the drinking of St. John's Wine, duly blest by Fr. Yurko; Childermass was a quiet day - everybody slept in, we did some grocery shopping, and walked around the pleasant streets of Baden.
Today's menu features minced meat pie. What better way to honor the great St. Thomas a Becket, who died for the liberties of the Church at the hands of the English crown, than to eat something outlawed by Oliver Cromwell for being too popish.
The high-shoe lord's of Cromwell's making
Were not for dainties - roasting, baking.
The chiefest food they found most good in,
Was rusty bacon and bag-pudding.
Plum-broth was popish, and minced pie
Oh, that was flat idolatry!