Category Archives: Jackass for the Hour

Jackass for the Hour 2.0 – Next Pope: Day One

Most pundits have it that pastoral responses are what is primarily needed by the next pontificate, you know, reclaiming the papal states, corrections of corruption, abuses of power, all that belongs to the category prefaced by the phrase Nefas est… “It is the most despicable evil…” you know, all those crimes which cry out to the heavens for vengeance, as well as the wholesale condemnation of the Second Vatican Council and of any predecessor, etc.

Taking the Council of Trent as an example, half of the documents were of a doctrinal nature, and another half were labeled as Reform, that is, the incisive correction of idiocies. Yes, good. But…

Just my opinion, I think the next Pontiff ought best concentrate on clarity with all charity, you know, charity as clarity about the Living Truth who is Christ our God, our Lord and Savior, Jesus, Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception. Jesus is the One, the only One. Jesus has been cast aside. But He isn’t to be brought back, as if we could do that. We are instead to just get out of His way, to be His instruments for good. Jesus, the Body of Christ as Saint Paul puts it, Jesus the Head, we the members, Is the Church. The members must be in humble reverence before Him.

The original Jackass for the Hour, an ecclesiastical thriller novel about the murderous intrigue of interreligious dialogue, is basically unpublishable as it was concerned with what’s going to happen as a new Roman Pontiff is elected, that is, following upon Saint John Paul II. That was being written in the early Spring and then Summer of 2005. It’s now 2020, 15 years later. Things have changed somewhat. Things have gotten worse. Much.

It just hit me now, like, right this minute, that Jackass for the Hour needs an entire overhaul in both content, action, characters and overall format, to be even more of an ecclesiastical thriller novel full of divine irony that Chesterton called Christian humour, without which one cannot be a Christian, you know, like justice and mercy coming together upon the Cross in the Person of the Son of the Living God who, having been judged, will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. So…

Envisaged is the surprise election of a total outsider to the Chair of Peter and follows developments over the space of his first 24 hours. That’s it. But that’s a lot. This might have to be split up into a Trilogy all on it’s own.

There’s a sequence which has to be well thought out prior to any election of any next Bishop of Rome, therefore the Successor of Peter. This is a second by second account, much like the original Jackass for the Hour. Some things depend on others. The acceptance. The name. The announcement. The Urbi et Orbi. All of that being delineated to the letter, and what happens between just those events.

Then the Holy Father announces that his installation will take place that very day, but then adds that even before this, exorcisms are immediately to take place for Vatican City, for Saint Peter’s Basilica, specifically for the altar of Saint Peter’s where the debelugma idol had been placed, in Vatican gardens especially in the places where the bedelugma idol worship took place and where fake “prayer” was offered to the fake god “Allah.

Then all the hell breaks out throughout Vatican City and the city of Rome as the express mandate of the Bishop of Rome is given to exorcists. In the mayhem, the Holy Father makes his way on foot and incognito to Saint John’s Basilica, the true Cathedral of Rome and the world for his installation. It is a secret route known only to a few throughout the centuries. Now sporting the Triple Crown and Fisherman’s Ring, he then sets about making a series of ex-Cathedra, infallible pronouncements emphasizing much needed truth. These pronouncements and the drama of objections will make up the meat of the novel with its moment by moment, hour by hour descriptions. Without a break, and by another route, the Holy Father will make his way back to Saint Peter’s, now abandoned by the crowds who are only now on their way to Saint John’s. At Saint Peter’s, the Holy Father himself offers a Solemn very Traditional High Mass as only the Holy Father himself can do, that is, after a visit to the sepulcher of Saint Peter below.

Readers are invited to suggest what might well belong to such a list of pronouncements. Reflect. Pray. Consult. Pray. Make a comment. Those may or may not be let through. Gotta keep some things secret after all. ;-)

There are a few of these items have been and are the subject of the most learned theologians in the world, Thomists all, from various countries, various continents.

Again, I know people are upset with the powers that be at the moment, but hold your wrath for vengeance and reform at bay for the first 24 hours of this papacy. There’s plenty of time for reform, perhaps by a successor, perhaps only 24 hours later. But, here’s the deal. You can’t have reform for that which you don’t love. You can’t love unless you have become acquainted with the object of that love, in this case, the Church, in this case, Christ our God, Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception.

Topics: Pray. Think. Pray again. Suggest in the comments.

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All the fires of hell aren’t enough to destroy God’s love

After a break in the rain for a couple of weeks we had 3/10th of an inch as I’m informed by my backyard neighbor. No wind either. Perfect time to reduce some branches to ash for the garden. Guessing the flames went up about 25 feet or so. Meanwhile, I had a second fire going of rubbish from the hermitage. Yes, the drama continues. There are of a sudden eager buyers of the neighbors property on which the hermitage lies in that county of NC. But this happened like a dozen times. “I’ll pay cash!” they state with eagerness. “Tomorrow we’ll get it done!” they proclaim. Never happens. But it’s all looking more serious as people are wanting to live in more remote areas, fleeing lawless Dem controlled cities with all their encouraged rape and murder and arson and looting and such. And lots of these people have throw-away money to make it happen. So, it’s a sad day coming up for me.

Having said all that, all the fires of hell and all the idiocy of this world aren’t enough to attack the love of God for us. Jesus has a place for us in Heaven. It would do us well to pray for those in Purgatory. They will also pray for us. Hail Mary…

Meanwhile, the picture above reminds me of a certain chapter in Jackass for the Hour. Perhaps I should get back to that.

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UPDATE: Jackass for the Hour: Gerontius’ Dream

jackass for the hour

That’s the original cover of Jackass for the Hour, my ecclesiastical thriller novel on the deadly intrigue of today’s interreligious politics, with its accompanying pen-name, Renzo di Lorenzo, which pen-name I was soon to abandon.

Without having read that work, a while back a priest friend offered a prejudicial critique of Jackass for the Hour, saying (1) that no saint has ever penned a novel and (2) that the entire modus operandi of a novel is an invitation to demonic influence by the writer, who necessarily jumps from senseless thought to other idiocies of his own life, making for what I had already thought through – and answered – myself calling such methodology the results of a mere autobiographical laxative. I protested that what I had done was different, that I had thought it through, that it was extremely tightly scripted, much like a very large mathematical equation. He repeated that no saint ever let their guard down to do such a dangerous thing. And then he said a dozen times if once that it would necessarily be a mere repeat of the rubbishy work of Malachi Martin. Blech. I was disheartened. No hope for me, especially because I had enjoyed writing so very much. I was trying to follow about the only novel I had ever read – The Sum of All Fears – in its intense in media res story line breaks. It’s like the adrenaline of extreme sports without the broken bones.

Then I mentioned this put-down of all novels yet again today to Father Gordon MacRae, an intellectual and literary giant in his own right. He rejected the put-down instantaneously, calling my attention to the fact that John Henry Cardinal Newman is now a canonized saint of the Catholic Church, and that this intellectual and literary giant in fact wrote a novel, a book-length epic poem called – The Dream of Gerontius – that recalls in style and substance The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. And he did this after his conversion to the Catholic Church.

While Jackass for the Hour is 9.37 times the length of Newman’s The Dream of Gerontius, and while I’m NOT an intellectual or literary giant, but am only one more of the millions of people who perhaps unfortunately have a keyboard to play with, I must say that I feel vindicated in some small way. That makes my day.

UPDATE: After more fierceness, a LEO catechumen came to the rescue, texting me this picture of the cover of a novel by, as he said: “SAINT Thomas More”:

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Character in *Jackass for the Hour* seen in Rome

Who could it be? Not the guy in the winter coat. Not the priest in the cassock and Roman collar. So, who?

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Jackass for the Hour: Chapter 29 – We praise the darkness

palestinian donkey

Jackass for the Hour: Chapter 29 – We praise the darkness

It was the first Friday of the trial. Cardinal Francisco opened the session, saying, “We commence the proceedings again with a prayer, this time led by the Special Prosecutor, Sister Nice, who is recognised by the Pelotani as an expert in psychology, sexual-abuse and problems living celibacy. She was recommended by Cardinal Froben. Sister… if you would…”

“Let us pray,” she said, walking to the centre of the stage and throwing her arms wide. “We sing to the mountains; we sing to the sea; we sing to the blessing of you and of me,” she began, pointing at the crowd and then to herself. “We praise the darkness, we praise the light, our sharing, our growth, all our insight. Mud and water, fire too, we breathe forth Sophia, for me and you too.” She was about to go on, but thought better of it. She said “Amen” on her own, and then went back and sat down. Cardinal Francisco looked disappointed with the rest of the crowd.

Sister Nice started without waiting to be given the floor. “On the one hand, Alex, I’m happy with the sharing style of this trial. Sharing is what I do. On the other hand, I am disappointed that

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Jackass for the Hour: Note for Ch. 29 – “We’re men of consensus.” Idiots.

jackass for the hour

Chapter 29 – We praise the darkness – is coming up. I’ve been rather distracted by an associate for the last couple of weeks. As I review the first paragraphs of Chapter 29, this bit jumped out at me:

Bishop Athanasius knew of many candidates [for the priesthood] whose [psych] test results had described them as angels but who turned out to be abusers virtually from the day of their ordinations, as was being admitted by some of the psychologists who favoured abusive personalities, those who are nice, who go along with the ‘team’ by never criticising the abusiveness and lack of Faith of others.

When this was written I was thinking of two cases in particular:

  • One devastated a religious community I knew of at the time, the case being described to me in detail. One priest, totally disgusted with the fallen priest even after very many years, feeling totally betrayed, kept exclaiming that before ordination he was an angel and described as such by evaluations. Literally, from the day of his ordination…
  • The second was in an archdiocese. The seminary faculty has voted with two thumbs down, pretty much unanimously. The candidate, an absolute angel, was evaluated as being an absolute angel by the psych testing. Almost from the very day of his ordination… The anger of those who had given two thumbs down was so heated that the huge seminary was brought to the brink of closing in protest. Those who know of what I speak will know the emotional backlash as if they were going through it right now themselves.

Just to say. In my decades in Rome, I’ve met many of the key players and their minions of niceness and consensus. Again, Sister Nice might seem to be a caricature, a satire, but, really, she’s not. The reality is actually worse. I actually hold back. There are hundreds of priests who have met Sister Nice and been subjected to her… her… It’s difficult to come up with a word to describe her dumbing down of the faith, her betrayal of the faith, her disrespect for seminarians and the priesthood. I myself never met her, but knew many of her colleagues as close friends for very many years, and I have spoken with those subjected to her… her… Yuck. It’s stomach turning.

Having said all that, for the sake of the story line of the novel, there is some humor inserted. Sorry, with so serious a topic, but a bit of laughter is always a good thing even in the worst circumstances.

Update: Getting toward the end of this chapter 29, I see that Sister Nice says this to Father Alexamenos: ““Everyone will ‘wonder why the hell I am asking you this,’ but, tell me… What is spiritual direction in a seminary for?” The memories! This goes back to when one who could be called The Spiritual Director in Rome (super liberal but held to be the icon of orthodoxy for spiritual everything) went on the attack and wanted to humiliate me in front of some rather important people to all that which is political ecclesiastically in Rome, asking me a point about spiritual direction that he thought could not be answered in a Catholic manner. My answer made him, literally, apoplectic. He tried to argue a bit in front of these others, but was so beside himself with what I was saying that he stormed out, arms waving about, and re-entered the room multiple times and finally left altogether in a hissy fit. Just unbelievable. I recount such things not because this or that anecdote is important in itself, but because of who such people are with their far reaching influence in the life of the Church right around the world.

Update: Getting right to the end of chapter 29, I see this statement from Father Alexamenos: “The decontextualising statistics of your psychology despise the body in ‘favour’ of an ideologically reconstructed soul.” That’s the heart of this chapter. There it is. The dark key of gnostic salvation apart from Jesus. The true Key of Knowledge is not the dark key of gnostic salvation apart from Jesus. Mind you, that gnostic salvation – oh so very scientific – says that the truth and goodness and kindness of Jesus, the respect He shows to us is what is instead truly gnostic and useless and misleading as it is not at all scientific and controlled by us, manipulated by us.

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Jackass for the Hour: Is your donkey ready for the hour of palms & praise?

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This is donkey who has lived near the hermitage for all the years I’ve been in Western North Carolina. Sometimes one hears of a parish, usually a Cathedral parish, for which a donkey is prepared for his hour on which the (Arch)Bishop or Cardinal or Patriarch will ride up to the church on that donkey with all having palm fronds in their hands. I’ve heard of that for the Philippines, for Nicaragua, for Jerusalem. How about your parish?

The Donkey – by G.K. Chesteron

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born.

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.

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Update: sniper shot in Rome – God’s providence with a message? Jackass!

sniper 2

A “sniper”, in the Autumn of 1999 over in Rome, took a shot at me, a warning shot, I guess. A warning for what I could only guess at the time. I’m guessing it had something to do with a guy who was living there for quite a number of weeks, a bit of a terrorist who had opened up to me, in detail, about his intentions to bomb an island nation near Africa. Of course, as always, I passed such information along. Anyway:
What I wrote in the past: I was up on the top floor of where I was staying, about 85 feet up from street level, a recreation room surrounded by large, panoramic windows. I was standing at a window (top right) with the exit door unto a patio roof on the other side of the building behind me. I loved to stand there and look out over the city of Rome while mulling over a doctoral thesis I was writing at the time on textual criticism of papyri manuscripts. For no discernible reason, I was getting creeped out by a window on the far side of a little valley in the city – a veritable spaghetti bowl of train tracks coming in from every direction – creeped out enough by that window to be distracting, and it was unrelenting. Wanting to think of things more academic, I simply turned to leave out the door onto the roof-patio on the far side of the building where I could pace back and forth to think in peace. But just as I turned out the door to that roof-patio, that nano-second, I heard a sharp make-you-instantly-cringe CRASH-CRACK sound and came back to investigate. I saw a small hole in the window where I had been and some bits of glass round about, but, just glancing at this, not really looking, while my first thought that it was obviously a bullet, I dismissed that thought and figured it was just someone who had thrown a tiny rock up at the building just to do it, and that it was no big deal. It was a small hole. Back I went to the patio and pacing, oblivious to the world, thinking of manuscript symbols and dates and locations and ancient politics and also the “Reformation” and present day Church politics. But the next day and the next I would be back at that window, as was my custom while deep in thought. I let myself be distracted and noticed that a picture on the far wall from the window, just to the side of the door, had been broken by what I didn’t know, perhaps rough-housing while playing ping-pong (there being a ping-pong table on the far side of the room). But then I looked at the window again. It was double-pane. It was then that I realized this had to have been a bullet because of the double panes and the holes being so tiny. I followed the unmistakable trajectory (lining up the holes in the two panes), and it went directly to the hole in the picture inside the room. With that I followed the trajectory the other way, and that led me to a large-windowed room (one window always open) on a roof of a building (quite exactly the height of the one I was in) which, now using google-maps distance measuring tool, I find was 427 feet away. It was the same window that had creeped me out.

sniper 1

The tram and train power wires would not have been in the way. The above picture is from google maps at street level, far below the window where I had been standing.

Left-of-bang advice from those experienced in combat is that you should always take note of those super-creepy feelings. Your senses pick up on things that don’t register in your conscience brain except by way of such warnings as they are things so small you would never pay attention to them even if you did outright notice them. Did I notice but not notice the end of a gun barrel pointed in my direction. At that distance? But your brain registers the information you otherwise can’t.

Anyway, no harm done. That didn’t stop me from hanging out at that window to check out the skyline of Rome before my usual pacing. I won’t be able to go back to that building if I’m ever in Rome to try to find the bullet buried in whatever wall or whatever since the building was sold some years ago.

22 vs 556
UPDATE: Since I wrote the post in which the above was included (about a year ago), I’ve come to know a bit more about guns, including an AR-15 belonging to a parishioner. I remember the holes in the double-paned windows (thick glass in those massive windows, mind you). The holes were tiny. I figured it was just a .22 bullet like for the long rifle we had at home when I was a kid, you know, the kind with the really tiny bullets that will ricochet off anything without doing any damage. That’s what I thought, being amazed that such a bullet at such a distance with such a blunted surface and with no power could ever so very cleanly cut through those windows. But now I realize that one would have better accuracy if that bullet were not a .22, but rather a .223 or 5.56, which have the same bullet width (tiny!), effectively, the same as the normal .22. The .223 or 5.56 is, oh my, ever so very much faster and powerful, as there is so much more gunpowder in a collared cartridge, and the bullets are not blunt, but pointed, apt, then, to cut through those thick panes of glass as if they weren’t even there, with the tip cutting, not pushing through, keeping the holes small. That rather nuances my thoughts about the shooter.
Some additional thoughts about the timing: As mentioned above, at the time of this pot-shot I was trying to wrap my mind around the utter, total betrayal of the Church by the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity by way of its documents on ecumenical cooperation on the establishment of a text of Scripture perhaps closer to the original than what we now have. Not that that’s bad at all, but the way they did it was and is still an attempt at a “Reformation” this time from within the Church, going far beyond what the “Reformers” would ever have themselves tolerated in their own wholesale rejection of Revelation as both Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition: Erasmus, Luther, et alii… This was a very dark time for me, or, really, a time so full of light that I was just a bit blinded by the radiance. People think that it was some document on justification which bothered me about ecumenical activities back in the day (and it was criticized even by most Lutherans) – and it did bother me – but instead, I was simply consumed by the darkness of the betrayal of Revelation by those who should know better, a betrayal of openly triumphalistic mockery. I know what was said, publicly or privately and by whom, about all this. I saw just how close the Church was to dropping into hell, and was very much consoled that Saint Robert Bellarmine on exactly this topic and this very point had used this very description of the Church as being about to drop straight into hell. The utter betrayal of the faith – and what I saw the consequences of this would be for untold numbers of the faithful for centuries to come – had caught up with me and was beating me down, down, down, down, down. Call me a damn fool to weep for the Church. Call me a damn fool to be beaten down by this crowd, to take it personally, to feel indignant for the Holy Spirit who provides Revelation (both written and Sacred Tradition), to feel indignant for the Incarnate Word (to whom that Revelation points), to feel indignant for the Father (who wants us to listen to His beloved Son). Call me a damn fool for caring when there were canonized saints at the time (more recently) who didn’t seem to notice or care (though they surely didn’t see the problem in all its clarity, hoodwinked as they were by those clever mockers and manipulators). Call me a damn fool. But it is what it is. This is just a personal note of a part of my personal history. I can’t change what was, what I lived, what I experienced. This was the darkest moment of my life. Seeing the Church so close to hell is not easy.

At precisely that nanosecond, the shot came crashing through the window and into the room. Had I not moved a nanosecond before this, that bullet would have blown my heart right out of my chest.

But the guy waited a nanosecond, perhaps by mistake, perhaps on purpose. Had the door jam behind which I had just slipped in that nanosecond been made of wood and sheet-rock or plaster, instead of brick (which he didn’t know), perhaps I would not be writing this. It was solid brick. I’m sure people will laugh, and say that this was simply Coincidence, blah blah blah. Maybe. Coincidence is a dang good aim, a dang good shot, at a distance, right to the heart. What are the chances? About a trillion to the power of a trillion? But that’s not the point.

It’s now almost twenty years since that happened. It only now strikes me that there’s an analogy in God’s providence to be made. I’m a bit slow with these things. It strikes me that the betrayal of the Church by those who should know better can be a bullet more deadly than any bullet shot by a mere rifle.

Character building and all that? No. What’s needed when it comes to the darkness is the light of Christ. We are just so very much nothing. He is everything. It’s all about Jesus. Only Him. How could it be otherwise?

Perhaps this is why I didn’t go near doing character development for Cardinal Frobin in Jackass for the Hour. I was just too close to all that when I wrote Jackass. See: Jackass for the Hour: Frobin in Ch. 27 & Sister Nice in Ch: 29 Weirdly, my life history, including some dramas and actual stomping grounds (exact the same places, even the same bedroom) have mirrored in detail the life of Cardinal Frobin, except, of course, for being a Cardinal. I knew people who knew him in his younger days and during his time in Rome, who knew him very well. I could and should give him a bit of character development in a future revision of the novel.

What I wanted to express in this post is something rather personal. I know I will be mocked for this walk in the darkness, as it were (know that I don’t publish all the comments that come in), and I know that I am making myself perhaps a bit too vulnerable in this way, kind of like Paul writing about his crying out to the Lord to be delivered from Satan, but, it just is what it is. I think what I’m trying to get across is that our Lord grabbed me at that very moment. Perhaps I should write about that experience. Perhaps that is important. Perhaps there are other readers who could gain some hope in seeing what happened when coming to know the Lord a bit more, that is, an increase in hope during a very dark time indeed.

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Jackass for the Hour: Frobin in Ch. 27 & Sister Nice in Ch: 29

lightning vatican holy see st peter

“I was having trouble figuring out how a Roman Catholic Cardinal could possibly say what Froben is saying. It’s as if he is speaking a different language from Father Alexámenos. If Cardinal Froben had been participating in the Joint Statement business and has pulled over to the “can’t we all just get along pretending that we agree on certain doctrines” side, it makes a little more sense.

“The differences among “Christians” seem to be more than language. Jesus Christ, Who He is and how He works in us, His Beloved Church, is the difference. And then, our response ( ….yes, we have to believe to understand, and God won’t save us without us, but His Church is given, by Jesus, the Key of knowledge, right? )”

You’re right about the Key of Knowledge being given to Jesus’ little flock. We see this in Matthew 18 contrasted to Matthew 16. Important: Papal Infallibility: The Gospel Truth (Matthew 16:19 and Matthew 18:18) I think I’m perhaps the only one to make this analysis, for two historical reasons: (1) The far reaching understanding of the “perfect” tense in New Testament Greek brought about by Ignace de la Potterie and used in his analysis of the wonderful change of name of Mary by the angel in Luke 1:28 was not something to which anyone paid attention previously; (2) No one but no one wants to go near the truth of infallibility in Matthew as this would be considered to be politically incorrect by the bullies that be.

Anyway, while the faithful do not have the gift/burden of infallibility as does Peter, both they and Peter have exactly the same opportunity to assent to the same Faith of the same Tradition as supernaturally provided by the same Holy Spirit. To put it differently in the extremely important Gethsemane of Cardinal Siri, it’s all “univocal.” Unfortunately, that book is criminally jacked up in price on Amazon, so, I guess it’s out of print. You might check with, if I remember correctly, Angelus Press. Siri’s presentation, by way of examples, is superb.

To the point: problems can enter with our understanding and assent for a variety of reasons. Difficulties are to be brought to Peter. We all free will with this assent any may not want to assent to the Faith for a variety of reasons, such as political correctness (which is always about being a bully and being our own saviors). All things being equal, we are not exempt from free will just because we are Catholic.

Having said all that, I’m quite sure that the reader knows all this better than do I. The question is really about how such a situation as a Cardinal (or for that matter in other contexts, a pope) might not be assenting to the Faith, that is, not if that is possible (such as with Judas: Arise! Let us be going! Look! My betrayer is at hand!), but rather, precisely, how it is that this can be. In other words, by what perspective is it that a Cardinal, who should know better, does not know better, or has chosen to be a bumbling political animal such as Froben).

That’s my guess as to the intent of this question as the same reader offered a comment a while back, in Chapter 7: Like a metronome, about a much more devious (in the novel) Cardinal Fidèle. There was no difficulty with the fact of him being so manipulative. The reader, with great kindness, said about the presentation of this Cardinal:

“The first part of this chapter, the description of Cardinal Fidèle and his thought-philosophy-conscience-character evolution, is a tour de force.

“Charitable depth, rare. I do believe he is based upon a real person.”

In other words, could I do with Cardinal Froben what I did for Cardinal Fidèle? That’s a tall order. The problem is that Froben and Fidèle are polar opposites. Froben is an entirely political animal in the sense of a bumbling bully looking to be a self-congratulatory “man of consensus” as they say. That’s his choice, where he’s chosen to go. Fidèle, on the other hand, is manipulative and political from an entirely perverted sincerity in that he actually does want to be wrong, but he cannot refrain from testing God, something which opens him up to demonic possession. Opposites attract. I could add all sorts of anecdotes (data, if you will) in character development for Froben, and I may just do that so that he doesn’t seem so boxed, so much like a straw man.

Froben is not a straw man. I cringe at stories to tell. I do sometimes mention them, if only by a place name that is impossibly in the story and those in the know would know exactly what I’m talking about. But I could make all that more explicit. The worst thing about Froben is not any participation in any document on justification – though he may well have rejoiced to see how this was rammed through the Holy Office – but rather his own documents on ecumenical cooperation in establishing a text of Scripture as close as possible to the original through “scientific” studies of the papyri, codices, etc. In the end, for him, as spelled out in this chapter by way of accurate summary of those documents, the importance of the inspired texts is to be reduced to that which is:

“small t” traditional, pastoral, liturgical, apologetic, sociological, organizational, cultural, political, geographical, psychological, intellectual, attitudinal or even economic.

Froben’s rejoicing in the “Principle of No Principles” and his agreement with who is said to have the “sum total of authority” is egregious.

Finally, it must be said, when it comes down to real error, there is no reasoning, no making it better, no making sense of anything. That’s why error is error. It would be “self-harming” to try to understand how error is somehow reasonable to those who run after it. Even those in error would not be able to tell you why they do what they do. They would just brow-beat you into submission. Purposed error is about power without its proper context of truth and justice and love and goodness and kindness and mercy. Purposed error is dark and lonely. How terrible. How sad.

It is better to rejoice in Him who is Lumen gentium, the Light of the Nations, the Divine Son of the Immaculate Conception, who – whatever “power” people think they have – will  come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire.

Did I mention fire? We’re getting closer to that as the chapters roll by.

Beware. You are warned. In chapter 29 we will meet Sister Nice in all her glory, if one can call it that. To readers not in the know, she will seem to be a mere caricature, another straw man. She does verbalize things I have heard anecdotally from those who in real life would be her colleagues. See does spit out the policies and attitudes of not a few seminaries and dioceses. She does represent accurately the insane PPF (Program for Priestly Formation of the United States Bishops Conference) with all its Pelagianism. But perhaps I could also prepare for her appearance with more references and character development throughout the novel. That would be important I think. However, to readers in the know, that is, who have actually met someone just like Sister Nice – no, really! – well, they will just have a good laugh, or cry. That Sister, in real life, did not come to a good end, but exited everything in the most catastrophic, ridiculously ironic, scandalous way possible. Nuff said. But you’ve been warned. I cringe at the thought of putting up that chapter.

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Jackass for the Hour: Two chapters

Jewish ghetto tempio maggiore san gregorio della divina pieta

Looking from across the Tiber River in Rome you see part of the Jewish Ghetto with the Tempio Maggiore. The (in)famous church of San Gregorio della divina pieta is on the lower far right of the picture. That church has a facade that is important in Chapter 28: Perfidious Jews.

It’s been a while since a chapter was published for Jackass for the Hour. Chapter 27 was just put up. That was just now followed by Chapter 28 (Perfidious Jews). The two go together. It would be good to see Rabbi Shelomoh ben Yishaq in all his glory.

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Filed under Jackass for the Hour, Jewish-Catholic dialogue