When one thinks of notorious vigilantes, several names and personality types come to mind. Perhaps Charles Bronson or Dirty Harry, or maybe even the Dark Knight, Batman. But personally, I have yet to run into tragic costumed figure or a rogue cop who has just had enough.
But I have met a person who has had enough and can’t take it anymore, a person who has seen too much lawbreaking simply ignored by the competent authorities, a person who has finally decided to do something about it–to become a vigilante–Mrs. McGillicuddy. She sits in the third pew on the left.
As general rule, vigilantes are not born, they are made. Their steely resolve to right the wrong, forged in the fires of un-rectified lawlessness, transforms them into self appointed guardians of the good. They become–watchmen.
The Mrs. McGillicuddys of the world have had much to endure these last forty years. They sit in their pews and watch as liturgical experimentation and improvisation transform the holy mass into a vehicle of self expression for those who do not understand what it truly expresses. They sit and wonder, when will somebody do something about this? When? When they finally reach the reluctant conclusion of never, what follows results in either resignation or transformation.
Now a confession, I’m a Mrs. McGillicuddy. But I don’t want to be.
Some years ago…Continue Reading @ National Catholic Register>>>