One Year Of Faint Meowing (At Best)

Heroic meowing...

It will soon be one year. Not, mind, one year from the infamous publication of the infamous Fornicationis Laetitia. No. One year from an extremely belated request of “clarification” in the form of “Dubia”. An instrument which, weak as it was, would have been sufficient to unleash hell around Pope Francis' pontificate, if the barking had been followed by the biting. As it turned out, and as I write this, the marbles for it were and are just not there.

The faint meowing of the Dubia was followed by… nothing.

And more nothing.

At some point, some more meowing was made public, with the Cardinals (at that point all of them alive) asking a heretical Pope why oh why he does not receive them to allow them to respectfully discuss his heresy. Truly, these people make the first, pre-Gandalf Theoden look like a fearless warrior.

At this point, it is anyone's guess whether something resembling a censure of the Pope will be ever published at all by the two surviving kitten (two of them have gone to their judgment without acting; may the Lord have mercy on their souls).

My take is that at some point we will get – when the two surviving Cardinals have gathered the necessary courage – nothing more than an explanation of what the Church teaches, without any censure of or warning to the Pope, and without any demand that he puts an end to this confusion.

This would be a very little improvement on the total catastrophe of total silence; but would still fall well short of what is required: the denunciation of the paper as heretic, and the warning that the Pope will be declared such unless he recants.

If I want to know what the Church teaches concerning marriage I do not need Cardinal Burke or Brandmüller. The teaching is universally known. What is necessary is the open condemnation of a document going frontally against it, and – if the man does not backpedal – of the man who answers for the document.

Everything else would be very faint meowing, only able to satisfy the most childish Pollyannas.

Count me out, please.

M

 

Rebellion

The so-called Deuterocanonical Books are seven books of the Old Testament which were not originally written in Hebraic, but in Greek. However, they were considered by the Jews themselves to be part of the body of Sacred Scripture. Their acceptance was a fact at the time of Christ, and Our Lord never challenged their authenticity. This is why, for fifteen Centuries, all Christian counted 46 books in the Old Testament, including the Deuterocanonical (“second canon”) seven ones.

Then a sex-obsessed German Heresiarch showed up, and – I think, mainly because not liking the content of some of these books – decided to expunge the Old Testament of them.

I do not know – and do not care – whether Luther had at his disposal the historical facts about the Deuterocanonical Books. Faith is not based on historical research. It is based on the acceptance of truths handed down to us by the generations before us.

Luther showed, by daring to even tamper with the Bible, a stunning degree of rebellion, a willingness to discard what fifty generations before him had never had a problem accepting. Mind blowing rebellion, sheepishly perpetuated to this day by those born of Protestants – less and less, one must say – and unquestioningly accepting the mutilation of Sacred Scripture. Which they must do, lest they start questioning the entire Protestant mindset in the first place.

This is all bad enough. But I wonder if it is so different – though the methods are adapted – to the attitude of those who, within the Church, dare to tell us exactly the same thing: that what sixty-five generations of Catholics have believed must now be discarded. You see this in the constant perverted preaching of Father Jeanine Martin, Society of Fags, or in Pope's Francis obvious symphaty with every form of Statalism, Socialism or Communism that happens to cross his rather dull mind.

At the root of all is rebellion, refusal to accept truth handed down to us.

Luther, Francis and Father James “Elton” Martin, Society of Fags, aren't much different after all.

M