Other TLAP (every September 19th) posts here.
When we last met Pete the Pirate, he was discerning becoming a priest after watching Fishers of Men on another pirate's (likely stolen) IPod. The good Fat'r told Pete to go to Mass regularly for a year and then see where he was at. Years later, they reminisce for a few moments before the Ordination Mass.
Pete the almost former Pirate: So, Fat'r, I been thinkin'. I need be takin' a new name with the ord'nation.
Fat'r: Well, bless ye, Pete, ye're gettin' ordained a diocesan priest. Ye keep yer given name.
Pete: Arr, this wicked name is the name that pillaged the churches and hornsswaggled half the ships crossin' the sea. No, I be thinkin' me flock needs a clean start w' me. I'd like to be Fat'r Augustine.
Fat'r: (smiles) Aimin' for the top of the mizzenmast, now, aren't ye?
Pete: I be countin' on the intercession of Saint Augustine, an' he must be the patron saint of pirates. 'Tis fittin', if ye'd read Confessions.
Fat'r: "Late have I loved You, beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved You...?"
Pete: Well, I'll be leaving the poetry for the landlubbers, but I was thinking--the thing I admire about the bucko, is that Augustine, he took his passion for Christ and IMPALED those Donatists and Pelagians with the HOLY CUTLASS OF TRUTH! ARRRGGGH! (swings cutlass from his side up and slices repeatedly through the air, paralyzing people streaming in for the mass)
Fat'r: (pulling an frothing Pete aside) Blimey! Pete, ye must not think that way. Ye gi'e your life t' Christ, you toss the cutlass o'erboard.
Pete: (sputtering) Blow me down!...the Holy Cutlass of Truth? O'erboard?!
Fat'r: Ye ain't called to swing the Holy Gospel like Excalibur, me son.
Pete: But Fat'r, I learned som'tin in that landlubber seminary: "Aye, for the word o' God is li'in' and acti'e. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates e'en t' di'idin' soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes o' the heart. Gar." (Hebrews 4:12, New Revised Pirate Version) Fat'r, once I be ordained, I be swingin' that Word from the pulpit ev'ry Sunday!
Fat'r: Aye, Pete, but yer namesake put his own cutlass in Davy Jones' locker: "Aye, then Simon Peter, who had a sword, drew it and struck the high priest's ser'ant, cuttin' off his right ear. (The ser'ant's name was Malchus.) Aye, me parrot concurs. Jesus commanded Peter, "Put your sword away, argh! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has gi'en me?" (John 18: 10-11, NRPV). Pete, the Word is active and alive and cuts to a person's gut all by itself. Ye need preach it, 'tis all.
Pete: Arg, I knew I didna like that name.
Fat'r: Avast ye--ye bear a certain resemblance to Saint Peter, I be thinking. Chosen from a boat, sinner turned saint, a little impulsive.... He had plenty of strength, St Peter did, but his best strength came from Almighty God Hisself. Augustine is a right brilliant patron, but ye may be named Pete for a reason, I be thinkin'.
Pete (after some silence): Fat'r, I want to do this right. I be going to lay down me whole self before God, the bishop, and me brothers. I was thinkin': warn't that Ignatius a landlubbing soldier? And didna he lay down his sword at th' altar of Our Lady of Montserrat?
Fat'r: Arrrrrg. Aye, he did, laddie.
Pete: (picks up his cutlass, his eyepatch, and a gold doubloon, and places them solemnly before a side altar dedicated to Stella Maris.) 'Tis all I had, Fat'r. I hope its enough.
Fat'r: (smiling) Arr, seek ye first the Kingdom of God, Pete. Your flock has its clean start wit' ye now, and our Mother Mary be smilin' on ye. Arr, come now, let's belay the culture o' death! Wit' God's help.... All hand hoay!
(They walk into the sanctuary).
(Ye can read Cap'n Morgan's account o' the ord'nation and more here at LarryD's place.)