Francis And The Poor Blogger

“What is a poor Blogger to do”, is the question that I now pose to myself almost every day as Francis' antics multiply, fully uncaring of the scandal they give, or else a more and more disquieting picture of the pre-Francis past of Jorge Bergoglio emerges.

It would be, of course, very wrong and very sinful to address the man in the same way I would with, say, a David Cameron or Enda Kenny. In the case of the Bishop of Rome, we must exercise that restraint that comes not from respecting the man (frankly, I don't. “Unworthy of the habit” is the way I would describe him to a non-Catholic or a Catholic alike), but from loving the office.

Here, though, the problem begins. The enormity of what is happening – an enormity to which many have got accustomed with astonishing speed – cannot in my eyes be expressed with nuanced and in the end ineffective expressions of more or less strong reservation for Francis' actions. In the end, our yes should be yes and our no should be no. The message must come through without any equivocation, and without any hesitation. To simply say that one is “confused” doesn't say much, because put it that way the confusion might not be Francis' fault, not even when such “confusion” is due to obvious heresy. Similarly, when one says that certain expressions could have been avoided, one neglects the enormity of their meaning and denies the enormity of the damage they cause. It is not done with half words.

To this you must add that I cannot change myself in a foreigner by simply writing in a foreign language. We Southern Europeans have rather powerful emotions, or alternatively you northerners and assorted Anglo-Saxons are incapable of any. By us when the blood boils, the tongue will tell. I do not see anything wrong with that, and even if I did I doubt I could do much in the years God has left me.

Unavoidably, the one or other blog post will go against your grain. So be it. This is the blog of a fiery Italian, and if you don't like the way I write there are plenty of Anglo-Saxon bloggers waiting for your click. But if you click here, please make allowances for different cultural climates and dissimilarity of temperament.

Before I write a post, I often ask myself in which case would I be better off if suddenly hit by the already mentioned Boris Bus, or flower vase. I generally end up deciding I would be better off saying it as I see it, rather than playing diplomatician – which I am very bad at, anyway – with events that rival the worst 2,000 years of Church history have to offer in matter of shamelessness and scandal. And I am very sorry, but if you can't see the extent of the devastation and of the open heresy and omnipresent error now embraced as mainstream Catholicism and promoted by the very Pope you are not a part of the solution, but rather – if perhaps unwittingly so – of the problem.

Fair warning must, therefore, be given. Whatever name Francis has deserved for himself and is not – according to my judgment, not yours; see above under “temperament” – grossly insulting of the Papacy, I will use. If he makes a clown of himself, he will be called just that. If he is heretical, he will be called a heretic – and I don't care much if formal or material; this concerns rather his eternal salvation than the scandal objectively given -, and if he behaves like a child, he will be called a child.

It still pains me that I was hoping against hope when others had the gut to see clearly and say it as it is: when Rorate commented Francis' election with the title: “The Horror!” I did not want to believe things were that way, at least not so fast and without abundant evidence. Turns out the title was just right, the evidence is shocking and absolutely overwhelming, and “The Horror” is the title that should go on top of every second blog post about Pope Bergoglio.

The Papacy is not protected, but is rather insulted, if we consider Francis an even halfway acceptable occupant of the Sea of Peter. That Popes can be not only woefully inadequate, but outright heretics we know already from well-documented past history. Unpleasant as it is to have to recognise the pit of heresy and stupidity in which we have fallen, we can't say we do not have the instruments, and therefore the duty, to see and understand what is happening. One day we will be called to state what we have said when we saw the Tango danced on the sanctuary, and why. To have swimmed with the tide will, I am afraid, not be much of an extenuating circumstance. What is happening is far too evident, is a work of demolition carried out with such brutality that the excuse “I had not really understood what Francis wanted to do” will not help much.

One day we will called to say what we have done.

That day, I prefer to be told I was a tad too emotional.

Mundabor