It seems like the folks of Santa Fe haven't figured out that you don't answer your cell phone, and you don't talk at all when you're in church. You're used to seeing that sort of stuff at weddings and funerals, where lots of heretics and unchurched Catholics hang out, but not on Good Friday, the most solemn day of the year.
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You know what? You folks have all these “extraordinary ministers”. You don’t have ushers; you have “hospitality ministers”. You’ve got “extraordinary ministers of the Eucharist” which means we have to have forty people up tramp up to the altar to give thirty people Holy Communion. Well then, let me make this clear right now. Those days where I have to attend Mass with you folks, do you know who I am? I’m the extraordinary minister of “shut the hell up”. That’s who I am.
I would guess that Archbishop Lamy would have had no complaint with our friend at the Donegal Express, or at least, less complaint with him than with his successors who have tolerated the degeneration of the faith he nurtered there. He reminds me that it's not all mountains, trout fishing, good food, and snow skiing in northern New Mexico. Another reason for us in Kansas City to count our blessings--wonderful that we have so many traditional options and even a couple of fairly reverent novus ordo ones and don't have to put up with such goings-on here.