Obit Anus, Abit Onus. On The Death Of Cardinal Martini.

Cardinal Martini died in a Jesuit retirement home. He was 85 years old, a life thrown away in the most tragic and dangerous of ways.

We do not know – and will probably never know – whether in the end he repented; we can, therefore, only hope for the sake of his immortal soul  – and for the sake of his certainly somewhat tired guardian angel – that he managed to avoid hell in the end. Doubts are, if you ask me, perfectly justified.

The idea that this man was said to be one of the papabili – albeit this was very probably the fruit of liberal wishful thinking, rather than a concrete possibility – is a very good description of the actual state of crisis within the Church.

I hope you will make the effort with me – to me at least it is an effort, but I think a salutary one – and join me in a prayer for his immortal soul. Still, I think we must also openly say that the death of such an enemy of Catholicism can only be seen as good news.  Martini’s last subversive book is a very recent work, only some months old; this was, therefore, not a chap who would just be happy with being forgotten and disappearing in silence. No, he had to contribute to the damnation of souls to the very end. A true Jesuit of the modern kind.

It is to be hoped many others of his companions will follow him – hopefully to purgatory, otherwise to hell – sooner rather than later.

I am not a friend of mourning of circumstance, and have always believed when a pig dies what you have in front of you is a dead pig, death not being something ennobling one in any conceivable way. Of course, in this case there was an immortal soul at stake but you get my drift, and I certainly wish the man had died before at least being able to publish his last effort to damn himself and countless others.

It is well-known the German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer had been condemned to pay a pension to a woman he had inadvertently caused to fall (if memory serves) from the stairs, getting a permanent injury from the fall. When the woman died, the always rather dry Schopenhauer wrote in his account book the Latin words “Obit Anus, Abit Onus”: the old person has died, the burden is lifted.

Fitting words, I think, to comment the recent news.

Mundabor