#holy sacrifice of the mass

[jameslmartello]

Answering a Jesuit's Eucharistic Heresy | Catholic Answers Podcasts

[tonreihe]

Nicholas Gihr, The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

[dxxtruction]

Louis being compared to as a saint. Saints, who find their salvation and then give intercession from beyond that veil to move others towards it. A guide for life, where they no longer fall into their sins and trajectories towards a certain hell. "Listen to me as if I am the voice of god, or an angel." Louis being that saintly catalyst for the vampires to confront themselves in that such a way. A saintly Louis is very dear to me.

[myremnantarmy]

"𝘔𝘺 𝘓𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘎𝘰𝘥."

[do-i-love-jaal-today]

Jaal reacting to seeing SAM kill you (and revive you thanks SAM) to escape from the Archon's trap, once you're both safely back on the Tempest (I feel like there should have been a scene with the LI about this, a dramatic you-almost-died-and-I-need-to-hold-you scene)

Funny how I can both not remember a scene well, but also know exactly what to do with it.That being said, we absolutely should’ve had a stronger reaction from Jaal. Even if it was barely contained emotion.

Doing this HC styled for the moment, but feel free to request this as a mini-fic, if that’s more your speed!

In the moment, he tries so hard to be okay with it. SAM said it was the only way, so it has to be the way this happens, right...?

However, Jaal is bitterly realizing he’d much rather bare through being on Kadara for hours on end if it meant he didn’t have to be here. Emotions are choking him up, especially watching your limp body collapse on the ground. Grinding his teeth when SAM is struggling a moment with reviving you.

He should be used to this. The grief. The risk of loss; why else enter the Resistance? One must face loss and still fight on. Even understanding that one’s own life is at risk. To protect the whole...

But just this once... Can’t he be greedy? Can he not wish for your survival? To not have to see you like this...?

Being revived is a relief he can hardly put to words- further choked up at you taking breaths of air once more- but his heart still aches with a fierceness unrivaled.

...For now, he holds his tongue. Stills his arms from reaching out and holding you to the point it hurts. (He’d be sorry for it, but to know your alive and can feel takes precedent over all else, at the moment.) There is still a mission to finish. He can do that much.

(As much as it maddens him to do so. For the first time in his life, Jaal loathes putting the mission first. He almost lost his darling one, and he cannot react until the end? It’s no different from past missions he’s had with other angara; this hurts in a way unlike those, however.)

He gives you some time. Gives himself a few moments to be composed, before you inevitably seek him out... Yet, he cannot still his shaking hands. Hold back a few tears from escaping. How can he find any semblance of peace when he does not want to lose you...?

His back is to you, staring at nothing, when you enter. And when your voice sounds in greeting, he is quick to turn and pull you into a hug. It’s almost crushing, but he seems to have pulled himself together just enough to prevent any further harm.

You still have to ask him to ease up!

Jaal pours out his heart without any further nudging. He loves you so, seeing that was one of the worst moments of his life, how can he bear to know you may end up like that again...?

...And yet, he cannot stop you. He needs the kett stopped as much as you do. To protect his cherished people. For the chance that someday, maybe, on an off-chance... That his creators may return. Because he loves this little “extended, friend-family” that the Tempest is for him, now.

He loves you. And to love you is to know that your people- all those from the Milky Way- need the kett gone, too. This isn’t something to give up on, even though seeing you die in front of him will haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days.

...You both cry. The hug he pulls you into is less constricting, but that’s what your heart is probably doing right now, anyways. His head nuzzles the top of yours, his tears getting on there...but you cannot find it in you to care right now.

Jaal admits that he wishes to not be without you. However, his bunk is...terribly small. Isn’t yours bigger?

You can’t help but laugh and agree. A small cutscene of the two flopping onto your bed, cuddling close. A momentary comfort, for the fight ahead.

“Keep me with you, won’t you, darling one...?”

[cvbarroso]

¿Si no quieres ir a Misa para que quieres ir al cielo?

If you don't want to go to mass, why do you want to go to heaven?

[five-one-two-station]

At this point I am convinced some people are watching this show solely via the subtitle files, because that's the only thing that explains drastically misunderstanding everything that's not spelled out in dialogue to this extent.

Honestly some of the most embarrassing mass failure of media literacy I've ever seen. It's not even complicated stuff, it's basic text comprehension and story fluency.

- No, Caitlyn's "I know!" is not anger at being called out; she's saying she is very, very painfully aware of what she's done wrong. Watch it again.

- No she didn't take the guards away or go to the cell to have sex with Vi. TF?!?

It was Vi who initiated; Caitlyn was surprised she did.

She pulled the guards away to help Vi if/when she chose to do what she knows her well enough to know she probably would. Vi makes her choice - Caitlyn doesn't "let" her, she just supports it, because it's Vi's choice to make.

Vi has no idea she's done this until after, it doesn't affect her "agency" at all. That's not what any of those words mean!

- She did this as a direct acknowledgement of and response to Vi's previous criticisms.

You are supposed to be able to make the very, very minimal leap of imagination required to understand what the show is telling you here; that she is genuinely sorry, genuinely committed to getting her shit together, and that she has heard and received every word that Vi has told her.

The reason this gesture is so important is that it demonstrates she's now going out on a limb to put herself, her resources, and her privilege to work for the greater good.

And the reason Vi reacts the way she does is that she understands all of this immediately.

You should not need the show to sit you down and spell this out to you step by step Barney the Dinosaur style.

- She works very hard and sacrifices quite a lot to try to do right by people after fucking up so badly before, but not before very explicitly acknowledging that she can't undo the harm she's already done. And this isn't even an inference thing, she actually even says this bit out loud twice, and you still somehow missed it.

- For $5, what do you think the show was suggesting by having Sevika take up her seat, her final costume have no Enforcer uniform elements, and having her allude to an ongoing struggle. Come on, guess.

I am loathe to call people stupid just because some tv show stuff sailed over their heads, but... y'all are legitimately testing that. This is not exactly The Holy Mountain or something, it is very straightforward storytelling.

And just... I mean why would you be this loud about anything without making sure you didn't have it ass backways first?!? In public!?!? 💀

You guys, you have to watch shows to know what is happening in them.

[allfortheslay25]

Bestie, your brain 👌👌👌 i love all of your aftg au's, mermaid and omegaverse especially. Any headcanons or other things you wish people would ask but haven't/generally be willing to share? Hope you're doing well 💜

Another au from the secret stash!

All for the Cult

I hid this one cuz I’m afraid it’d be controversial and up until this week, I hadn’t even shared it with my sister

I actually am writing a fic for it but the fic will not be published until it is completed. I don’t want to risk leaving it in the public on a hiatus so it’s safe with me until I can finish all the chapters

Basically instead of exy as the base of AFTG, it’s bastardized religion. Exy technically exists but instead of Tetsuji continuing Kayleigh and his pet project, he turns to forming a cult. Exy ends up being a dying sport no one really cares about unless it’s Kevin Day who still plays on the side of his true passion, communing with God.

Neil was a human sacrifice raised for slaughter until his mom took him and ran. Homeless and with no way out, Neil joins Wymack’s staff at his wayward home/church where junkies and sob stories go for their last second chance. No one actually has to pray to god or believe in the Bible’s teachings to work there as it is not a standard church and more like a theater than anything

The more kids Wymack recruits, the longer he gets to keep his church and program at the school

(Also side note but I was doing the comic of andreil but forgot my house looks like a Catholic Church threw up in it so I got awkward and couldn’t finish it)(oh and my sister renamed it all for the debauchery cuz she got to read the altar scene lol)

Key points and fun facts of this au:

- the Ravens are a cult cult instead of a sports cult

- Riko is obsessed with his holy trinity (perfect court)

- The Moriyamas are still a crime unit but Nathan is sort of a satanist on the side (Would like to say mass majority of satanists are not evil or bad, Nathan just is)

- Neil was born as a sacrifice. Mary took him and ran tho before the ritual

- The Foxes are ppl from broken pasts who work at Wymack’s church for scholarship/community service.

- Wymack’s church isn’t a standard catholic kind. He has his own unique spin on it so even those who aren’t religious can still work there. Campus students attend the services to watch the plays, hear the readings, listen to the choir, and some even use the confession box. Some even go to donate as the Foxes are connected to a bunch of charities

- Andrew is not a real priest. The cousins were apprentices for Luther for a couple years to get him off their backs. Because of his experience and eidetic memory, Wymack has Andrew do scripture readings and other tasks. In return, Andrew gets to be off the meds the entire time of mass

- the Foxes attend classes and work shifts at the church in their free time. If they flunk classes or skip church, their scholarship is revoked

- all of the Foxes live in the upstairs rooms above the church

- When Andrew first met Luther, Luther promised to take care of the Cass situation as long as Andrew gave God a try. Andrew only agreed to read the Bible and took Nicky’s since the Hemmicks were worried he’d vandalize a new one. Andrew thought it was a good read but mostly was humored by all of Nicky’s annotations

- Andrew doesn’t care about religion enough to hate it so he’s fine chilling around and hearing the preaching

- When Neil goes to the nest, he agrees to spend those weeks in Riko’s church where he’s ofc tortured. Riko no longer has the desire to sacrifice Neil as long as Neil joins his cult

- Renee holds a Bible study on Sunday evenings and Saturdays so weekends are Andrews days off

- Lots of their readings are done performatively with music, spoken word poetry, or with their own unique spins/translations of the text. (Every mass always starts with a disclaimer that what is being said/shown is their interpretation and not to be taken as the honest god given truth)

- whenever they raise enough money or supplies, the foxes celebrate by getting wasted; Wymack’s treat

- Betsy is still there for mandatory therapy sessions since the point of the scholarship is to rehabilitate troubled youth

- Abby is Wymack’s assistant but she also is a part time nurse

[tyxaar]

A compiled list of various severe crimes committed by one Mr Scar of the Good Times, exact counts pending. Cannibalism (Multiple counts) War profiteering Trading of Souls Grave robbing Fraud of multiple varieties Racketeering Arson (Like a lot of it) Unethical experimentation Acts of Terror Spiritual possession Contract killing Sale of human remains Ritual sacrifice Perpetuating Police Brutality Domestic Terrorism Oathbreaking Violation of the real life Geneva Convention Deceptive marketing Kidnapping Desecration of a sacred place Whatever tf Area 77 had going on Insider trading Extortion Patricide Matricide Unsafe building practices Holy war Desecration of corpses Market manipulation Treason Tax evasion Murder (Lots and lots) Large-scale extreme vandalism Mass enviromental destruction Political corruption Identity fraud

[throwsahammer]

Okay, wait, this "Blood Atonement" thing is the belief that... If I understand it correctly, Christ's sacrifice did not fully eliminate the need for sacrifice to atone for sin, and certain sins required the blood sacrifice (Voluntary or otherwise) of the sinner to achieve salvation?

As an atheist with protestant roots this strikes me as shockingly heretical in its departure from ordinary Christian doctrine.

I'm not sure I entirely have a question other than "Am I understanding correctly" and I guess "What the heck?"

It's a bit more complicated than that, but you've got the basic idea.

There are two foundational concepts that you need to understand in order to fit blood atonement into Mormonism properly, and those are Perdition and Having Your Calling and Election Made Sure (I'm going to abbreviate the second one).

Perdition is the condition of being sentenced to outer darkness, which sounds pretty straightforward. It's basically just the standard protestant idea of hell. However, unlike protestantism's concept of Jesus's atonement being infinite in the sense that it's open for anyone to opt into, Mormonism believes that the atonement is infinite in that it guarantees salvation for everyone regardless of personal decision. The whole concept of a tiered heaven can, therefore, be based entirely on personal merit and the completion of specific ordinances, as it's ostensibly built around the idea of growing into the sort of person who would actually be comfortable living there, and not about whether or not Jesus paid the price of admission for that specific individual.

This creates a real-world problem, though: the threat of damnation is an indispensable tool in the arsenal of a religious leader who wants to coerce people into taking certain actions, and Joseph Smith is at this point in history desperately in need of a stick with which to threaten people into compliance. So he develops a new kind of threat based on the figure of Cain. The basic idea of perdition is that there are certain acts that alter their perpetrators on a metaphysical level to the point where they can't exist within god's presence even a little bit, and will not be able to live in any kingdom of glory post resurrection. (There's a whole tangent about mormon cosmology I'm not going into here, but the short version is that the kingdoms of glory operate via divine Reaganomics, and terrestrial and telestial glory are the result of god's celestial glory trickling down).

So, the two sins that damn one's soul and body to perdition are "the shedding of innocent blood" and "denying the holy ghost." The first one is mostly employed rhetorically as a point of comparison and serves to underscore how serious the second one is. What exactly constituted a sufficient degree of apostasy to qualify as perdition-worthy was left intentionally vague by Joseph in order to enable him to threaten people from a position of unquestionable authority. It's all pretty standard new religious movement stuff so far.

But now you run into a different problem: if murder is a potentially soul-threatening act, then you're going to need to waste time manufacturing a spiritual casus belli against anyone you need removed, and nobody who is trying to build a kingdom for themselves has time for that. Enter the second piece of the puzzle: HYCaEMS. Eventually known as the Second Anointing, HYaCEMS is the ultimate theological get-out-of-jail-free card, where the prophet guarantees you a spot in the celestial kingdom, and from that moment onward there's nothing you can do to disqualify yourself from it.

So now Joseph Smith has invented everything he needs to build his empire: a message of universal salvation to appeal to the masses that directly addresses the contemporary debates of protestantism, the ability to leverage the ultimate threat against any man who questions his leadership or any young girl who doesn't want to sleep with him, and the ability to offer the ultimate reward to his inner circle in exchange for their cooperation in carrying out his dirty work. He gets shot to death before he can do very much with any of this.

So now the stage is all set for Brigham Young to build upon the foundation his successor built. He expands Smith's nascent ideas into a fleshed-out universe. The curse of Cain is developed into mormon doctrinal racism, the law of consecration is developed into Deseret's United Order, and Joseph's early concepts of exaltation are developed into the ever-expanding hierarchy of gods.

In case you haven't figured out by now, Mormonism is built on a foundation of nitpicking specific semantic details and then extrapolating entire theological concepts from there. Blood atonement is primarily the result of Brigham Young doing exactly this with how blood is talked about in the scriptures alongside the use of the phrase "flesh and bone" instead of "flesh and blood" in specific contexts. Joseph Smith (and other contemporary religious figures, most notably those who would go on to form the Jehovah's Witnesses) had spoken quite a bit about blood and the symbolic and spiritual importance thereof, but Mormonism's unique contribution to the conversation was the idea that blood was mortality. Adam and Eve did not have blood until the fall, and Jesus didn't have blood after his resurrection. Blood contained both the curse of physical death and was also a metaphorical vessel for the soul, containing the sins of man, and therefore also carrying the curse of spiritual death. The most important moment of Jesus's life, according to Mormonism, was when he prayed in Gethsemane, as that's when he physically took the universe's sins onto himself and literally bled from every pore out onto the earth, as that's when he conquered spiritual death.

Still with me? Good. Now is where I need to talk about how mormon cosmology is built around the idea that planets, stars, the sun, and other heavenly bodies are living beings. Not in a metaphorical way but in a more literal sense. Stars and planets (including the sun) are essentially divine beings, home to beings that correspond to their degree of glory. This is important because Earth was also affected by the fall and became mortal and required all of the same saving ordinances as a human would. The flood of Noah was the earth's baptism (which means that according to this worldview, the entire earth was fully submerged under water), and the eventual fiery apocalypse of the world's end will be its confirmation, or baptism by fire. The earth's equivalent of the mormon Sacrament, then, was when it literally drank the blood (in Gethsemane) and ate the flesh (in the tomb) of Jesus. This act cleansed the earth itself of sin.

Ok, so now we finally get to talk about blood atonement in context. According to this whole paradigm, anyone who commits an act of perdition will have their very blood cursed and cut off from the presence of god. When they are resurrected to face final judgment, their sins will remain locked inside their now immortal bodies and prevent them from dwelling in any kingdom of glory (this point is not much elaborated on, and it's unclear whether bodies of sons of perdition have blood or are just metaphysically bound to it somehow).

When Cain slew Abel, Abel's innocent blood soaked the earth, and that blood cried out for justice, but Cain was cursed with perdition, so his blood could never be shed, and it wasn't until Jesus soaked the earth with his blood that Abel's blood's need for justice was fulfilled. The earth, having absorbed divine blood capable of paying the price of justice for innocent blood, can therefore act as an intermediary for this sort of thing.

But doesn't that undermine the whole "infinite atonement" thing? Well, yes, but not anymore than the necessity of any other ordinance within Mormonism does within the same framework. Jesus was baptized, and anyone who wants to access the specific covenants locked behind baptism needs to be baptized. Jesus, while not a murderer, took those sins upon himself and shed his blood, so any murderer who wants to access the redemption must also do so. Shedding your blood upon the ground becomes a sort of conditional ordinance that's only necessary if you've committed the otherwise unforgivable sin of murder.

Now you'll notice that we're only talking about murder here and not apostasy. That's because, crucially, those are the same thing as far as Mormonism is concerned, as you're spiritually killing someone (yourself and potentially your family as well). Brigham Young prescribed "death on the spot" for mormons who engaged in the apostate act of miscegenation, for example.

Now, I want to stress that it's extremely unclear how many people, if any, were actually blood atoned for apostasy, how many people, if any, were executed in ways that did not shed their blood because they were deemed "apostate," and how widespread or accepted any of this doctrine was beyond church leadership. I also want to make it clear that there is no credible evidence that suggests that either the doctrine or practice of blood atonement is taught or practiced by any branches of Mormonism beyond certain fundamentalist sects such as the FLDS under the leadership of Warren Jeffs, or isolated incidents such as the Lafferty Brother murders.

The mainstream LDS church has quietly de-emphasized or de-canonized almost all of these teachings, including many of the foundational elements. You can occasionally find church officials expressing some or even all of these beliefs in unofficial settings, but the most recent examples are the likes of Cleon Skousen, Hugh Nibley, Bruce McConkie, and Joseph Fielding Smith, all of which are decades ago at this point, and virtually all of which are inaccessible via official church records.

So there you go. I feel obligated to note that much of the connective tissue of this post comes from personal experience and decades of reading various official and semi-official writings on the topic and that I don't have a list of sources handy. Go read Under the Banner of Heaven (or watch the Hulu series) if you want a broader, better-sourced look at the history of violence within Mormonism (though note that Krakauer does dabble in conjecture, especially in the Hulu adaptation).

[alostwanderernotfound]

The Dangers

Many years ago in my studies I worked with many people. We all eventually started to disagree on a variety of things.

Latin was one of the few languages I was taught & to a degree retained at the time. Music was another study encouraged. To some holy families this was a practice to be whole & for others it was considered an opportunity- “a tool” as it was described. I was taught a lot as a child under the guise of just trying to learn of the world, but quickly others intervened. They were trying to teach me sorcery & I didn’t even know it.

The angels were fractionated by “rank” & “power”. Witchcraft & asking for the power of other things outside of us started to become a secret ambition of some. Some of us wanted to prioritize peace & harmony. Others were focused on the attainment of the most power possible for our survival.

Latin as a language is apparently spoken by a lot of different beings. Communication between beings that have different technology/skills/power/etc apparently had occurred at least somewhat enough of other beings to know of angel existence.

One specific group that shall go unnamed spoke Latin & to speak to them you played certain notes in a certain way. Like an intro song & then they knew you were speaking to them.

Some were asking for power & attempting to bargain.

This was one of the huge dividers that eventually led to angel banishment out of the clouds.

I do not think Latin is translated correctly & I think that’s for a very scary reason.

I also think I asked and wrote down pretty specifically if you did Latin mass to not sing.

That is because you never know who is there leading you to deceive you.

I remember walking into one of the first Latin masses given and as soon as I entered- I remember being taken aback because they were singing.

I looked at the sheet music and was horrified in its familiarity.

The sheet music had the chords for speaking to this other type of being that asks you to sacrifice your body to it for its power. And I watched as an entire congregation sung a chant to other things not of our God that was asking for a specific person’s protection for them. These beings heard the chant & I can only assume lent that person some of their power, for your words said that is what you asked for.

The antichrists/people in hell’s power is supposedly derived from these types of practices. They bargain & gossip with other beings to get favor & then ask for their enemies destruction. A lot of power comes from the manipulation of people trying to do good.

God told me a long time ago I had to warn when I saw this & I did. Many times. But they did not care. I was in the minority. These practices were apparently essential to others, but all I saw was the chaos & the suffering & the pain.

And I realized a long time ago me & you, we’re nothing more than an infinite sacrificial token to them. They’d flood the world & crucify me & keep going as long as they get to stay in power.

And that’s why the Bible & Christianity & all these religions & mythical stories were life and death & why we didn’t stop fighting for so long. Why they were the most important things in the world & you were begged to please just listen because we don’t know who or what we were angering.

This is the story of the never ending fall & all the things people have done for all of history that led to what we called the inevitability of eternal suffering for us all.

They seek to continue to erase memories because they don’t care if they destroy this world & they don’t want anyone to even consider stopping them.

I remember now the ones so many years ago that asked for my skin & my flesh & my body. And I cried.

And the other angels, spiritual beings, & their followers gave me to them- to make themselves more powerful.

[numbers-31-blog]

There is no one, orthodox way to commit yourself to Lord Satan. It can be as elaborate as a high black mass or as simple as whispering a prayer over a single black candle at midnight. For me, it was lighting a candle one night when my mom was away at church and reciting the Pater Noster (the Lord's Prayer) backwards and promising Satan that if he answered my prayer, I would renounce Jesus Christ and his Father forever and serve him (Satan) in whatever capacity I could for as long as I lived.

However, if you want to show Satan you are serious, I recommend that you precede your commitment to him with an act of blasphemy. In Matthew 12: 31-32 Jesus informs us that there is one sin that God will never forgive: blasphemy of the Holy Spirit. Blasphemy is deliberate irreverence or profanity directed at something that is held to be sacred, and the Holy Spirit is that part of the Christian Godhead that dwells within every Christian. If you were baptized, even as an infant, you have it -- though it be dormant. By blaspheming the Holy Spirit you are rejecting that part of God which is in you and thus irrevocably cutting yourself off from His grace! Think carefully before you do it since it is a line that, once you cross it, you will never be able to step back from; but when and if you decide to do it, then it will make your commitment to Lord Satan all the more powerful!

If it were me, I would light a black candle and tell the so-called Holy Spirit to f*** off; that it is no longer welcome in me or my life; that I reject forever God, the sacrifice of his son, his grace, and all that he might have planned for me. I would then take the plate of unleavened bread (signifying the body of Christ) and drop it unceremoniously into the garbage. Likewise the glass of wine, signifying the blood of Christ, should be poured onto the ground or into a toilet or sink. Then I would ask Satan and all the denizens of Hell to witness my commitment to Lord Satan and his righteous cause.

[uwmspeccoll]

Manuscript Monday

Today we will be exploring our facsimile of an Exultet Roll, a southern Italian manuscript originally produced around 950 CE. This is a long scroll (24 feet long, unrolled) containing the text and chant notation for the Exultet, or Exsultet, which is a chant performed at the Easter Vigil mass, usually by a deacon before the congregation. It celebrates the night of the resurrection of Jesus, and is performed in praise of the Paschal candle, which is lit at every mass during the liturgical year. This candle slowly melts down until it is almost completely depleted, and then it is replaced at the Easter Vigil each year.

Although today it is usually chanted in the vernacular language of the Church being attended, this chant is referred to as the Exultet due to the first Latin word of the chant, which begins 'Exultet iam angelica turba coelorum' ('Let the angelic host of heaven exult').

Personally, one of my favorite parts of the Exultet chant is the portion known as the 'Praise of the Bees', which is said to be a reference to Virgil's writings in the Aeneid. This portion of the chant praises the work of the bees done to create the wax with which the Paschal Candle is made:

On this, your night of grace, O holy Father, accept this candle, a solemn offering, the work of bees and of your servants' hands, an evening sacrifice of praise, this gift from your most holy Church. But now we know the praises of this pillar, which glowing fire ignites for God's honor, a fire into many flames divided, yet never dimmed by sharing of its light, for it is fed by melting wax, drawn out by mother bees to build a torch so precious.

The codex -- books bound on one side as we know them today -- had long replaced the scroll by the time this manuscript was produced. So, why is this manuscript in the form of a scroll, rather than a codex? The reason is due to its ceremonial use at the Vigil mass. As the deacon chanted the Exultet, he would actually let the scroll unroll over the front of the ambo, so that members of the congregation could see the illuminations on the manuscript. Because of this use during the mass, these scrolls also have a peculiar feature: the text is written in an opposite orientation to the illuminations. This allowed the deacon to recite the chant accurately while the images were also oriented correctly for the attendees of the mass.

Use of Exultet scrolls during the Easter Vigil is unique to Southern Italian Catholic churches around Benevento and Montecassino and began being produced in the 10th century. All extant Exultet Rolls today were made between the 10th and 13th century.

Our facsimile is a reproducton of the Vatican Library's Codex Vaticanus Latinus 9820 and was published in Graz by the Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt in 1975. There are currently no complete images of the Scroll online, but the Vatican Library does have a digitized document explaining the condition of the scroll when it arrived there around 1200 CE.

View more manuscript posts.

View more Manuscript Monday posts.

– Sarah S., Former Special Collections Graduate Intern

[hexb0nes]

Hallowed Be Thy Name

word count: 4.2k

pairing: machine herald!viktor x cultist!reader

contains: cults, ritual sacrifice, blood, hematophagy (consumption of another's blood), kidnapping/being held hostage, mass murder, arson, virgin!reader, viktor fucks reader in his final evolution form, monster fucking?, sexy time with an eldritch horror, marking (viktor burns a sigil into reader), cunnilingus, monster cock, tummy bulge, fucking on an altar, dacryphilia, tongue fucking, mating press, cervix bruising, praise, getting fucked dumb, aphrodisiacs, somewhat psychedelic and ritualistic sex, rough sex, there's a happy ending (sorta)

summary: your commune worships the machine herald, your god. yet, his power and ability to aid the commune has begun to diminish. only you, a virginal sacrifice, can replenish his divinity.

a/n: this is probably my most graphic fic to this date, it borders into dark content territory so scroll away if you don't wanna interact with this!

You’re their sacrifice.

Your small commune relies on the gratitude and care from an old forgotten God, one made of machine with the divinity to heal. They call him the Machine Herald, praising him for his divine interventions. Nearly all of the commune has been infused with the Machine Herald’s healing machine, gold and white swirls on past injuries and disorders. 

It’s only with the recent generation–your generation–that the Machine Herald’s power has dwindled. Otherworldly forces have tampered with his divinity, threatening him into extinction. Through the body of the commune’s medium, the Machine Herald proposes a solution to regain his power and aid the commune; he demands a vessel, a body untainted by his influence, he requires the vessel to be pure and able to withstand the transfer of his divinity onto them.

You’re the daughter of the commune’s apothecary, an obedient sweetheart who always helps her parents. Whether they need a new herb from across the river or assistance with grinding up a powder for a new concoction, you do without command. The commune hails you as a valued member, a gift to their community.

The perfect sacrifice their God desires.

You stand before the altar in the commune’s holy center, candles lit around the pews in the shape of the Machine Herald’s sigil. Dressed in flowing white silk, you adorn a golden crown made of broken off machinery from loved ones long past. You keep your hands clasped together in prayer, as the rest of the commune awaits for the ceremony to start. 

Cassandra, the commune medium, approaches the altar and steps behind it. She sets down a series of offerings to the God; a bottle of wine, two pomegranates, and a golden bowl. Cassandra extends her hands out and the commune members rise from their seats, “Esteemed loved ones, those blessed by The Herald and those awaiting His touch, your presence today will be historical.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, ready to spill down your rosy cheeks. Cassandra directs the commune to sit back down and once settled, she barnishes a knife and sets it down on the altar, “For the first time since our home’s founding, one of our own will make full contact with The Herald!” gasps and cheers erupt through the holy center, “To become His vessel, to become one with His Glory!’

You attempt to plead for your freedom, but the excited shouts and yells from the commune drown out your voice. While kneeling at the altar, your feet are bound with hemp rope, preventing your escape. Although you are an obedient girl like all say, you couldn’t do this; you cannot lose your mind and body to a higher being like so. This isn’t your choice.

“Let us begin,” you peer up at the medium while she speaks. Cassandra picks up the knife and slices her hand open, crimson blood leaking from the wound. With the blood, she draws The Herald’s sigil on the canvass behind her. She then moves back to the altar and holds her bleeding hand over the golden bowl, filling it up with blood. 

“Here,” she hands the bowl of blood to you, “Drink up and summon Our Glorious Herald.”

Your hands shake and nearly drop the bowl. You debate what would happen if you did, but you have a feeling it would only end poorly. With tears rolling down your cheeks, you hold up the bowl to Cassandra and whimper, “Pl- Please, don’t make me- me do this!”

Cassandra squats to your level and wipes away the tears from your cheeks, “Oh, sweet child, it’s okay,” she reassures you, “I did the same ceremony before, when I became The Herald’s Voice. You will be okay,” she takes the bowl and presses the rim to your lips, “You will be okay, sweet child.”

You take the bowl from her hands and part your lips, slowly and painfully drinking the blood. Its metallic taste makes you want to vomit, but Cassandra prevents you from so, steadying the bowl with her hands. Once finished, you rip your mouth off the bowl and cough up some of the blood; it rolls down your chin and drips onto your chest. 

“You’ve done excellently, sweet child,” the commune medium praises you. She returns to the altar and grabs the wine, “To cleanse your pallet,” she hums, handing you the bottle. You eagerly drink it all up, desperate to rid your mouth from the taste of blood. Your skin suddenly heats up, your face burning and your core throbbing. You whine softly at the sensation and clench your thighs together, “What’s… happening…” you find yourself slurring words, as your vision blurs.

“We’re almost done, sweet child,” you hear Cassandra’s voice call out to you. Someone approaches you from behind and swoops you up from the stairs of the altar. They walk up to the altar and gently set you down in the center, “I’m sorry, honey.”

You recognize that voice, your father’s

“Daddy!” you cry out to him, “Please, don’t let them do this! This will kill me, Daddy!”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes back a sob, “It’s what The Glorious One demands.”

You try to yell, but Cassandra shoves one of the pomegranates into your mouth, your teeth digging into its skin. In addition to your bound feet, someone binds your hands together and ties your waist around the altar. Cassandra places the final pomegranate in your bound hands and exclaims, “Behold, Our Glorious Herald, may He bless you with His Divinity!”

The holy center rumbles, the echoes of a thunderstorm rattling the foundation. Cassandra’s mouth suddenly hinks open, her jaw snapping off its joints and unleashing a blinding light. Screams of terror and panic pierce throughout the holy center, as you regain clearer sight. 

Cassandra turns to face you, her eyes pure black and leaking bloody tears. A permanent smile is fixed on her face, her teeth unnaturally sharp and pointy. Your wails are muffled by the pomegranate in your mouth, as the creature descends onto you. Puppetering Cassandra’s body, the unholy creature hovers over your face, saliva and blood dripping onto your face.

“A… good… choice…” the creature speaks through Cassandra’s voice, pitched low and fuzzy like radio static, “I… will… cherish… you…” the creature grabs at your neck and pins you down, rendering you incompletely immobile, “Let’s… go… home.”

The holy center suddenly explodes, burning away the pews and the people inside. You, however, are witnessing this through a different realm, horrified. Helpless, you can only watch, as the fire from the holy center ravages through the entire commune, burning down buildings and scorching the bodies of commune members. In the aftermath of the fires, the remains of the commune reek of death and despair.

You fall to your knees and sob into your hands, “God, why… Why, why, why…”

“Divine punishment,” an accented voice speaks to you. Turning around, you’re able to take in your surroundings, a cosmos of stardust. You look at your body, an astral projection of yourself merging with the realm. There’s a sofa floating in the air above you and a man with sharp cheekbones and ruffled hair peers over, “Hello.”

Your body tells you to scream, but an odd sense of peace washes over you at the sight of the beautiful man. He snaps his fingers and the sofa vanishes before he floats down to your level, “Your medium betrayed your community,” he states.

“What?” your stomach–or whatever organ you have in this astral plane–churns.

The man floats closer to you, his white hair glowing with a blue tint. He has thick eyebrows, a few moles scattered about his face, and a hooked nose. His eyes shine a sweet honey amber hue. When he speaks, his voice vibrates through your rib cage and squeezes your heart with an unfamiliar feeling, “She failed to follow my instructions, she forced you to drink her blood in an effort to join in our union.”

Nausea bubbles up and you gag, covering your mouth with your hand. The man hovers around you, swimming aimlessly through the waves of the cosmos, “There was no way to prevent the fires when she signed the agreement; her failure to adhere to the contract triggered this.”

“Is everyone dead?” you ask, your voice meek as a mouse.

“Only those manipulated by my intervention,” the strange man answers, “Your generation was spared, they shouldn’t have to suffer because of the selfishness of the older generation,” his eyes shift through a kaleidoscope of colors, “May they rebuild a better community from the ashes.”

The gears in your mind click together, “You’re The Herald.”

“Indeed,” he hums, extending a hand out to you, “But my human name was Viktor.”

“Viktor,” you say his name, it rolls off your tongue effortlessly, “Pretty name,” you add on when you accept his hand. He smiles at you, affection twinkling in his eyes, “Pretty like you.”

Your cheeks turn a shade of pink, hiding your flustered state now unavoidable. Viktor chuckles at your state and tugs on your hand, “Allow me to show you around,” you allow Viktor to guide through the endless abyss of stardust. The heartbeat of the cosmos calls out to you, thumping and thumping. You’re awestruck by the astral plane, “This is amazing.”

“I agree,” Viktor chimes in. With his free hand, he snatches up some stardust and manipulates its form, producing a rose. He hands you the rose with a small smile, timid and sweet like a schoolboy asking his crush out, “For you, my dear.”

“T- Thank you,” you stammer and happily take the rose. You admire it between your fingers, an otherworldly creation. The rose slips from your fingers and returns to the cosmos as stardust, “Can we leave here?” 

“Yes,” answers Viktor. He lets go of your hand and an unusual sadness washes over you, the brightness of your astral form dimming, “I’ve remained in this realm for far too long, but we can leave whenever you desire.”

“Do I still have a body?” your eyes wide with panic.

“Yes, yes!” Viktor reassures you, “It lays dormant on the altar, untouched.”

“What about you? Where’s your body?” you inquire. 

Viktor’s cheeks tint pink at your questioning, “I do,” he answers, “But it’s not human.”

“Oh,” you frown, “What happened to your human body?”

“I shed it for the sake of evolution,” he intertwines a bony finger with a strand of your hair, playing with it mindlessly, “Yet, the only human part left of me remains trapped in the astral plane,” he drapes his free hand over your shoulder “I hope to regain access to it, hence my request for a vessel.”

You narrow your eyes at Viktor, “Are you gonna take my body?”

“No!” he retorts, “I need to connect myself to a vessel to absorb enough human essence to reform my human body,” the pink in his cheeks darkens, “I prefer not to possess your body for this process. I have a different method in mind.”

You blink at Viktor, curiosity evident in your doe-like eyes. The god’s cheeks redden and his eyes shift from amber to light pink, “Absorption through intercourse, the physical connection of two bodies as one, the most human way.”

You pull back from Viktor, your astral form glowing with various hues of red and pink, “Oh!” you’re unable to come up with a response, the idea of losing your virginity to such a pretty man–no, he’s a divine being, for fuck’s sake–makes you shudder with anticipation. You take a few moments to calm down, your astral form returning to its bluish white hue, and float back to Viktor.

“Is your true form scary?” you bit your bottom lip with nerves. Viktor offers you a reassuring pat on the cheek, “Likely, but I promise that I will not hurt you,” he touches his forehead against yours, “Will you do me this honor?”

“I- I-” your pulse quickens at his request. You could say no, you could, but you can’t. Something comes over you, a painful need for his touch. Viktor’s words have you in a trance, your mind going fuzzy and warm. You want to please him, to please your God, anyway you could.

“Yes, My Herald,” the desire to submit and devote yourself wholeheartedly shoves any logic, reason, and fear out of your mind. 

“Good girl.”

No longer are you in the astral plane, but back on the altar; your gown is stained in blood with a few scorch marks and you’re no longer bound to the table by rope. You sit up and spit out the pomegranate from your mouth, some of its juice staining your mouth and chin. The holy center is burnt to a crisp, ash and debris covers the ground; there’s no sign of life. 

“My dear.”

A deep, transcendental voice booms through the destroyed holy center. You swing your legs over the altar and scan your surroundings for the voice. Your eyes land on the center of the aisle, as a massive being walks down it. 

The creature holds a spiral staff, a shiny blue orb pulsating with each contact the staff makes against the ground. Its skin is a deep shade of purple with golden tendrils wrapped around different sections of the body. The creature has a flowing blue cape with red accents covering its shoulder, the only attire it possesses. A  third appendage sticks out of its back, resembling a claw. 

As it gets closer to the altar, you can make out its face. It’s simply a mask with vibrant golden sclera, the remnants of its face peeled out like a husk, and accompanied by wiry strands of black hair. A halo encases its head, made of oscillating runes of a long forgotten society. 

“Be not afraid,” the creature’s voice reverberates through the holy center. 

“Viktor,” his name escapes your lips, your body frozen in place, “Oh, Viktor.”

“My dear,” he stands before the altar, “Does this form scare you?”

“No,” never in your life had it been so easy to say the truth, “You’re beautiful.”

If Viktor still had human flesh for cheeks, he would be blushing. Instead, the halo above him fluctuates to a light hue of pink, “You grace me with such kindness. The love you possess in your heart is more radiant than a thousand suns.”

You open your mouth to speak, only to feel a dull throb in your pelvis. The effects of the wine Cassandra provided you have resumed, now that you’re back in your physical body. A large hand caresses your stomach, “That wine helps your essence circulate better through your body. I assure you that the effects are temporary.”

“My…” you stifle back a moan, wetness dripping from your cunt and onto the table, “My Herald, I pray for your guidance,” you shut your eyes tight and let out a pitiful whimper, “M- My Herald, I offer my purity to you!”

Viktor moves his hand from your stomach and down your pelvis, spreading your folds open. His hands are too big, he rubs a finger against your entrance and pulls back to examine your arousal, “A needy girl,” the runes in the halo shift red, “I shall tend to the needs of my devoted.” 

He’s so huge, at least two or three feet taller than you. Towering over you, Your Herald pins you down to the altar and the thinnest part of his mask protrudes open, revealing a long neon purple tongue. He kisses you eagerly, his tongue exploring the wet carven of your mouth. You’re getting drunk off a single kiss, as you embrace Viktor as best as you could. 

He pulls back from your face and his tongue slithers out of your mouth, a lewd ‘pop!’ followed after it. You peer up at the divine being through your eyelashes, “Need you…” you whimper to The Machine Herald, “Please…”

“Allow me the honor of tasting you more,” Viktor lifts up your legs and positions your pelvis towards his face. He unhinges his mask once more to expose his tongue and licks your pussy, prompting a restrained moan from you. 

“No need to quiet yourself,” your God informs you, “Let me hear you sing,” his tongue circles around your clit, wrapping around it and stroking it. You cry out from the sensation and vehemently chant Viktor’s title, as he tests the waters of your soaked cunt. His tongue dives inside your pussy, his masked face frigid against the throbbing warmth of your cunt. The Machine Herald tongue-fucks you without remorse and relishes the nectar of your pussy, pleased to see how easy it is for you to unravel.

“My- My Herald, I’m- I’m gonna-” words stumble from your lips, but fail to form a proper sentence, as you climax. You drench Viktor’s face in your juices, your body shuddering from the intense orgasm. The Machine Herald rubs circles on your thighs, as he withdraws his tongue out of your womb. He laps up the slick from your cunt and hums aloud, “You taste like the Heavens themself.”

“You spoil me, My Herald,” you giggle. Viktor places your legs back down on the altar and cups one of your cheeks, stroking it as gently as he could, “No, it is you who spoils me,” he touches his forehead against yours, “I have yearned for eons to embrace another,” a bit of his natural voice from the astral realm cracks through the surface, “I’ve waited for you to come to fruition, to be reunited with your soul.”

You don’t quite grasp what Viktor is referring to, your mind too consumed by arousal and desperation to question it. Nonetheless, you pull away and tap your forehead against his, a gesture of affection exchanged, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

The Machine Herald’s halo shifts to a hue of sunshine yellow, “Excellent… Now, lásko, let us become one,” you nod in agreement and remove your gown, displaying your nude body to Viktor. His hands trail down your body, mapping each dip and freckle, and rests you once more against the altar, “I must warn you, my cock is not that of a human’s. It may hurt.”

“I can handle it,” you promise Viktor. He nods and snaps his fingers, “Let us begin.”

A purplish light suddenly radiates from his pelvis and an otherworldly cock emerges. It’s thick, long, and ribbed; you salivate at the thought of it inside you. Despite your virginal status, you’re no stranger to pleasure yourself with toys that you’ve snuck in from visits to the mainland for supplies. 

The claw on The Herald’s back seizes your hands, slamming them above your head to hold you in place. Like a faithful discipline, you’ve already spread your legs open for Viktor. He shrinks his height to a more manageable size and joins you on the altar, lining his beastly cock to your entrance.

“I offer my purity to you,” you proclaim to The Machine Herald, “Take me as yours.”

“I offer my dedication to you,” he utters back, “Take me as yours.”

Viktor’s cock enters your pussy and you hiss at the intrusion, your cunt too small for his size. You feel the inner threads of your womb snap in two, as The Herald deflowers you. You take deep breaths while Viktor sheathes his entire length and girth inside you, a visible bulge poking out of your lower abdomen. 

“What a marvel you are,” he coos, caressing the bulge. You whine at his touch, tears rolling down your cheeks from the desperate need to be fucked, you can’t wait any longer–

Viktor suddenly shoves his hand against your stomach and heat shoots through your body. You bite back a pained sob, as Viktor traces his sigil onto your skin, scorching your once untainted flesh. The Herald wipes away your tears with his free hand, the other massaging the fresh burn, “You’re my mine, now and eternity, my goddess.”

You squirm against the claw around your hands, “Please, Viktor, let me touch you.”

“Alright, my dear,” he detaches the claw arm from your hands. You beckon him to lean closer and he does so, his cock hitting a new but pleasurable angle within your cunt. Shaking off the lust clouding your thoughts, you place your hands on The Machine Herald’s face. You’re quiet while you analyze his features, a being beyond normal human comprehension. 

“You’re magnificent,” you breathe out, nothing but pure admiration on your face.

The halo of runes deepend to a blood red and gold accents that snake around The Herald’s body pulsate. Viktor taps his forehead against yours, “I have missed your praise, lásko. You fill this body of mine with a foreign sense…” he chuckles, “Perhaps, I’m regaining the ability to feel, to emote,” he pulls away and asks you, “May I indulge myself in a long-forgotten delight of humanity? Intertwine myself with you, commensurate our union before the eyes of the universe?”

“Yes,” you consent, his prose as entrancing as his voice. The Machine Herald adjusts himself on the altar and you whimper with each poke of his cock. Once satisfied, Viktor places his hands between your waist and his halo morphs to a deep pink, “Ready, lásko?”

“Ready,” you confirm.

Viktor pulls out of your cunt just a bit before thrusting back inside. You gasp at the motion, the walls of your pussy contracting on instinct. Viktor chortles to you, “My, my. Your womb knows me well,” he thrusts once more, the tip of his monstrous cock kissing your cervix, “I can feel your essence, how vibrant your soul is.”

“Viktor…” you purr, trying to suppress a moan, “I don’t… All of this… So familiar.”

“Indeed,” he whispers back, “Enjoy yourself, I will take care of you.”

You offer a small smile, enamored. The Machine Herald resumes his thrusting, the ribbed texture of his cock rubbing up against your walls. You feel so full with Viktor’s cock inside your cunt, you fear the emptiness that would later follow.

“Fuck!” Viktor grunts, picking up speed with his thrusts. His dick assaults your poor cervix, beating it to a pulp, but you relish in the feeling. Use me. I’m yours. The sound of squelching and pants echo throughout the holy center, as Viktor has his way with you. With glee, you watch as the bulge in your stomach shrinks and grows with each thrust. 

“Lásko!” The Machine Herald calls out to you, “You feel- You feel so divine around my cock!” He lifts up your legs and folds you in half, your feet dangling close to your head, “I need to claim your very being.

His mask unsheathes his tongue and kisses you, battling your tongue with his for dominance. You can’t think straight, your body is like dough for Viktor to mold. He slams his dick deeper into your cunt, reaching depths unknown to you. Your eyes suddenly light up gold, consuming your sclera and irises. Viktor angles his dick at your sweet spot and hits it; you utter a lewd whine and the intensity of the gold in your eyes grows.

“Almost there, almost there,” The Machine Herald growls, pounding you mercilessly without care. The knock in your stomach begins to unravel, as your orgasm approaches, “My- My Herald!” you moan, “Gonna cum!”

“Yes, cum for me, my goddess!” he commands you, his cock thumping around the walls of your pussy. Like the obedient girl you are, you do as you’re told; the knock in your stomach pops and ecstasy waves over you, “Viktor!” you cry out, as golden light beams out from your eyes.

The Herald groans profoundly while you orgasm, the walls of your cunt fluttering around his cock and squeezing it like a vice. Not waiting until you finish your orgasm, Viktor resumes his pounding, his own orgasm only moments away.

“My goddess…” he murmurs, his hand snaking down and resting on your chest, “Thank- Thank you for this,” Viktor struggles to hold back from his climax. 

You place your hand on top of Viktor’s, tiny in comparison. With your hands connected over your heart, you flash Viktor one last smile, “Anything for My Herald.”

Viktor crumbles at your words, unleashing his orgasm. The Herald shoots hot white cum deep inside your cunt, bypassing your cervix and filling you up with his seed. The light from your eyes travels towards Viktor and his body absorbs it, his halo morphing to the same shade of gold. 

You’re motionless, unable to move a muscle. An odd sense of power engulfs you, your skin emitting a dull glow of gold. Above you, Viktor’s body begins to convulse, sparks and wheezes echoing from him. In a flash, the entity loses its eldritch form and a familiar brunette man collapses on top of you.

“Viktor,” you exhale, “We did it?”

“We did,” he informs you, a grin on his face, “I shift back to human again,” he embraces you and peppers your neck with kisses, “We did it.”

You kiss his neck sweetly, hands entangling his chocolate waves, “You’re back,” a vision flickers across your eyes. You see yourself in a mirror, but the reflection is of a tanned man with broad shoulders and a pearly white smile. The vision vanishes and you close your eyes, exhausted from the day’s activities.

Viktor holds you as firmly as he could, a rush of emotion crashing over him.

I have you back… Jayce.

[superiorcatholicinspiration]

Parish Retreat: Walking with the Lord through Holy Week. Catholic Inspiration

This 4-part parish retreat takes the listener through Holy Week: Palm Sunday – setting the stage for the events to come Holy Thursday – Service and Sacrament Good Friday – Sacrifice and Support Easter – Divine Strength and Hope Each of these presentations can be listened individually or collectively, depending on time and circumstance. May all of us prepare to enter fully into these holy…

[splickedylit]

Bestie pls tell me all of ur indigoblood and clown church headcanons!! :o)

I always have trouble pinning this kind of thing down to a list! Everything I can name feels either too vague or too specific. But I'll try!

longtime readers will know I'm absolutely into different facepaint designs having different meanings, and the intimacy/sanctity of the Bare Face eue

I really enjoy the concept of the church as a group being weirdly supportive and protective of each other compared to most trolls. like they'll still kill each other, but trolls of other colors find their comparative attachment to each other deeply unnerving.

Religious practice is largely by The Vibes both for the practitioners and also for me the author lol. Church services? sure! Confession? I guess! Patron saints and saint prayers? If you like that kind of thing. Ritual sacrifice? Yeah man! Orgies and mass intoxication? Why not?

Seadwellers have the monopoly on gold jewelry as a sign of status--highblood fashion is rainbow fabric/stones, silver and jet. Gold on a clown is usually a quadrant symbol from a seadweller--a fairly rare event because:

(I feel like this is at least partially textual but) violet seadwellers and highbloods have a contentious relationship and frequently clash RE: who's the bigger top bitch. Despite the hemospectrum being in the seadwellers' favor, this is a pretty evenly-matched contest (see: Dualscar vs the GHB)

The GHB position technically comes down to deadly combat, but there's a certain amount of democratic input in that if the church or empress don't like you, you can definitely win and then promptly get quietly assassinated.

Despite "candy/mutant red" and "lime green" as blood colors both being taboo or carrying baggage in some way, those colors are often represented in holy art and paintings, because those are the colors of the Messiahs--red for rage and green for mirth. Spirals, smiling/snarling masks or faces, and twining snakes also feature heavily.

Finally, I'll point you toward this post, which covers a lot of less general stuff not covered in this list lol.