Assaults on the city of Rome, the See of Peter, have not been infrequent over the course of the millennia.
Attila attempted. But he failed when he came into the formidable presence of Leo, called “the Great,” resulting in a dramatic volte-face.
Napoleon conquered Rome in 1809.
The Italian Nationalists of the Risorgimento mounted attacks upon Rome in 1848, forcing Blessed Pius IX to flee in a simple black Roman cassock to Gaeta in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
Hitler subdued Rome on June 4, 1944.
Yet none of these can compare to the assault being suffered by Rome today. This time the foe is Synodal Listening—II, and it is nothing less than the squandering of Christ’s salvific inheritance. To witness princes of the Church and assorted empurpled prelates parade about as though in some Rogerian self-actualization exercise makes a Catholic shudder. If not for Christ’s words, “And the gates of Hell shall not prevail against it,” a Catholic would be tempted to think he was witnessing the end of Catholicism.
This ruling elite behaved as though they were fanatical participants in a Maoist Struggle Session. Those historic monstrous displays dragged Chinese citizens into the semblance of a court and gratuitously accused them of being “class enemies.” They were then humiliated, accused, beaten, tortured, and put to death.
In the Synodal Sessions, it is the Faith that is so treated. Its majesty trampled upon, then traded for the cheap trinkets of the best psychobabble money can buy. All the more chilling is the gleeful willingness with which the successors of the apostles participated. Imagine. On the very ground consecrated by the blood of Peter and Paul and countless other martyrs, their successors are performing like a troupe of vaudevillians. They exhibit the gravitas of scarecrows.
One hesitates to accuse these synodalists of heresy, for there is far too little there to deserve the weight of such opprobrium. Heresy requires probity and purpose. It is the stuff of serious men. These synodalists are giddy pallbearers for the corpse of a spent Catholic Left.
Before the Synod began, a “retreat” was mandated. You see, the insipid requires preparation. To fool the Catholics masses, folly requires mimicking Old Catholicism, though it be only a hollow shell. Hence the otherwise respectable guise of “retreat.” The Synodal Retreat was as close to an authentic retreat as astronomy is to astrology.
Take a quick glance at a copy of the agenda and prepare to cringe. It begins:
This is the din of Babel. Where does one begin? The task is akin to nailing down raindrops. The most obvious question: What is the “sin of using doctrine as stones to be hurled”? Could this refer to the defense of the Revelation of Christ? If so, one wonders what then is there to believe? If doctrine is something hurtful, then the purpose of Christ’s Church evaporates. Doctrine is the unchanging teaching of the Faith. If that cannot be used as our buckler and shield, then what is?
That very query calls into question the purpose of martyrdom. Did St. John Fisher go to his death because he “hurled doctrine against his enemies”? Was his beheading then futile? Indeed, a sin? Was the Council of Trent a nefarious episode because it defined doctrines as ways to quell the fires of Protestant heresy?
Reason here stands stupefied. Theological analysis screeches to a halt. Against such stream of consciousness platitudes there is no egress. In his Metaphysics, Aristotle remarks that trying to argue with a man who has taken leave of reason is like speaking to a vegetable. Is this our predicament?
Any Catholic not embarrassed by this fog must look to see if their baptismal character has faded. Pachamama ceremonies along with the new Mayan and Amazonian rites of the Mass were only faint preludes to the soaring inanities of the Synod Retreat. These synodalists fashion themselves a pack of new Moses promulgating a terribly au courant list of sins. It used to be that Modernist theologians of the past years were busy burying any mention of sin. This new crop is now busy reviving it. But sins of a different color. A color bearing no resemblance to Christianity.
