Sunday, March 25, 2012


There are those who claim that the Catholic Church is the Whore of Babylon. They are, for the most part, customers of a competing whore, but of course, they obey the rule of never speaking badly of your own mother. 

The last time I heard this accusation hurled at the Catholic Church was about 2 weeks ago. [Now, slightly more than one month]  At the time,  First Baptist church of Houston Pastor,  Dr. Robert Jeffress was a guest on the Lawrence O’Donnell show, “The Last Word” which airs on MSNBC.  His appearance there [February 21, 2012] was one during which he proclaimed that Mormonism is not a Christian religion and that the Catholic Church is the Whore of Babylon.
This poem is dedicated to him.  

One of the Whore’s assiduous and dedicated customers.

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She is old, but still turning tricks, age after age,
Era after era, forever present on center stage.
To some she should have long ago been dead,
To others her survival and her zeal bring real dread.

I, proud child of this misnamed, renowned mother
Present before you, friend, enemy and even brother,
The munificent generosity with which this universal woman
Has blessed, and blesses the world, material and human.

It is thanks to the Great Whore that the world is blessed indeed
With the integrity of the unbreakable, unshakable creed
Built on the Faith that the crown of King David is Her crown alone
Bequeathed by Her original, foundational lover 

Her gifts to the nations include Alighieri and Buonarrotti,
Chrysostom, Francis, Jerome, Da Vinci, Verdi and Gregory.
She helps our worship along with simple, sweet plainchant sound
Which raises our soul to the heights where God is found. 

From her was born the book that we all treasure
And read every day with devotion and pleasure.
For centuries she has welcomed and housed the poor,
The orphans, the infirm, the sick, anyone who’se at the door.

She has lived in the hottest of the world’s deserts.
She has protected life that was saved in the Ark’s berths.
She has warmly embraced the children of this world,
Keeping them warm in her arms, tight to her bosom curled.

She has been the refuge of soldier and widow alike
Infirm, weak of body and mind she’d never dislike,
She has always bent low and stretched a way up high
in search of the rich, the poor, the brash and the shy.

Imagine the energy that it takes to keep going this long
And still be frowned upon with disdain ever so strong
By those who, rather than enjoy her charms ever divine,
From their cold margins the warmth of her love do malign.

No doubt that the ability to attract this tsunami of vitriol
While remaining attractive, loving, kind and above it all,
Is without a doubt a sign that she is indeed the faithful bride  
Of the God-Son whose Spirit in her great soul doth abide.

It is this accomplishment ever so miraculous
That in their proximity ever so perilous
The gates of Dante’s great inferno quite sulfurous
Will never, ever take Her away from any of us.