Father Volpi Has Died
Father Volpi has died.
Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.
(See? In Latin!)
I am, as you know, not one of those who think that – say – if I die a pig I become a lamb. The way I see it, if I die a pig I become pork. Death has, in itself, no redeeming feature. Death does not improve me. Death will only fix in stone, for all eternity, what I chose to be (yes, I still chose to be it, though in a mysterious way this is also what God has preordained from all eternity) at the time of death.
I am, therefore, of the opinion that it must be said, today of all days, that Father Volpi has grievously harmed the Church with his savage, ferocious attack to the Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate. An attack that did not stop short of grave accusations of criminal offences against his founder. An attack that has reduced this wonderful order to the shadow of itself in less than two years. An attack obviously meant to eradicate from the Church one of her most brilliant examples of orthodoxy. Of all this, Father Volpi had to answer when his time came. Woe to him if he wasn’t prepared.
Do not even think of coming here and writing “oh, perhaps he was misinformed!”; “ohh, ohh, perhaps it was all a misunderstanding!!”; “oohh, oohh, oohh, perhaps things are not as they seem!!!”. You would, with your sugary absence of spine, be throwing another dagger in the side of the poor friars and nuns (yes, Volpi persecuted them too; big time. Lest it be said that he has anything of the lamb in him).
Wake up. Things very often are as they seem. Particularly then, when it seems that such a savage attack has been ongoing for two years. That’s an awful lot of seeming, say I.
Father Volpi had the great blessing of getting the warning shot of the stroke, and one can sincerely hope – for the sake of his infinitely worthy soul – that he used this time in the appropriate way. Because if he didn’t, it’s difficult to me to see how an Attila like this one could have escaped hell. Unless, it is, it has now become meritorious to help the Evil Clown, with a breathtaking zeal, to ravage Holy Mother Church in such a way as he did.
Let others do the praising and the excusing. I have no praise for him, and he has no excuses. I wish him salvation as I wish it to everyone else, starting from myself. But if this one died unrepentant and did not go to hell, it means the barriers to entry are very, very high; which would be very consoling for the likes of us, but I do not think it’s true.
No, let us be realists here. If the likes of us are at risk of hell, and we are, then this man was in very, very deep trouble.
De mortuis nil nisi bonum can have, it certainly has his place in the case of common people, of the quisque de populo. But to refuse to speak of the evil work of this man just because he has died can only help the work of destruction of the one or ones coming after him, and of the one who sent him to do his evil work. It’s like refusing to say anything bad of Hitler in May 1945. It is just unwitting collaboration with evil.
I hope the FFI will be able to say masses for the repose of his soul. Tridentine Masses, of course. What a sweet thought.
Volpi is gone, and the shameful energy he put on his work of destruction has gone with him. Francis has now a very good chance of profiting of the occasion to backpedal on this initiative that has – as he must see unless he is a complete moron – done a lot of damage to himself personally. He could embrace sanity, or at least prudence, and now appoint a new man who will gradually restore things to sanity.
But then again this is the man who said “soon, soon!” to the poor parents. We know how much his word is worth. We know how rotten his mind is. He may decide to be more cautious, but there is no ground for optimism.
Volpi was the evil arm, but Francis is the evil mind.
The first is gone. Alas, the second is still there. For now.