I bet you didn't know Christ has a self-inflicted character flaw. He is not keeping up with evolving society. God is scared to deal with the people He claims to serve. There's no room for unquestioning obedience His censorship of their trouser monsters in a true community. Nosiree. Christ's Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity is a frog in a boiling pot of water.
Wanna know why?
Christ is extinguishing the liberating spirit of the moonbats that hijacked Vatican II and manning - male reference intended - the barricades against the clapping fornicators.
Here's my favorite paragraph from this weasel:
The church has great truths and traditions to defend, for sure, but I'm guessing it's on the verge of forfeiting any opportunity it might still have to provide a safe and welcoming place to people who cannot abide the church's mortifying history of defending superstitions against what science and their own experience tell them.
In case you can't crack the code, he explains:
Once it was that Galileo was a heretic for proposing that the earth revolves around the sun. Now it is that men and women born with homosexual orientations are "objectively disordered."
As a woman who was born with an obsessive orientation to good frosting and chocolate, I'm starting to wonder if there's something passive/aggressive about the omission of invitations to gluttons at our local parish. Do you think it could be we're not welcome? I'd like a safe and welcoming place to wear a colorful flag of a seven-layer cake and have a liturgical celebration celebrating cellulite.
Tammeus ends by articulating The Catholic Church is a wingnut snakehandler losing their ability to dominate and provide inflexible answers that don't yield to simpletons...oops, simplicities.
Bill Tammeus Epistle to his triumphant penis. Amen.
The use of the word Catholic on an apostolate is granted by the local Bishops for this rubbish. I used to get flustered by the gutless Episcopal cowardice who feed their flock this nonsense. But at the end of the day, it all comes down to Christ's maxim: God does not give what is holy to the dogs. That maxim haunted me when I was rebelling against the Church's teachings on contraception. One day, there was enough sanctifying grace to realize I was being deprived by God. I was the swine to whom He would not cast his pearls.
You knock yourself out Willie. Take Chittister and the whole stinking crew with you. You are your own worst enemy.
On the Feast of St. Benedict, the only thing I can add is Vade retro Satana. Nunquam suade mihi vana. Sunt mala quae libas. Ipse venena bibas.
Thou art Peter and upon this rock I shall build my Church. The gates of hell shall not prevail against Her.