Monday 10th December 2007

“Theology is nothing but a poem of God”: Boccaccio, Trattatello in laude di Dante.

 

God with men, who want Him to mould them and let Him do, is serious: He captivate them and embrace them, setting them free from the embrace of psychical and political gods.

 

A thing is the Last Supper before Resurrection, on the eve of death, another is the Christian Supper after Resurrection. The most famous mass of Father Pio psychologically and theologically errs on unilateralism, it is only Golgotha. Theology of Council, with a global manner, has liturgically opened  to resurrection.

 

How much and what a joy lies “deeply” in the  heart of Jesus in His last worldly Supper with men, on the eve of His nuptial flight to His Father. On the eve of His heaven Supper.

 

Before the bloody torment of Gethsemane and Golgotha.

 

What a peace on that Cross. The Omega dies.

 

How many the ones who are damned in the church, and those who are damned in its top levels. Devoted to success, appearances, honors, vanity, career, money, lies (against their own conscience), sex without love or future. How many the ones who keep silent in the church before the Council-cide and Gospel-cide. They could not formally sell their soul to Satan, but they actually and passionately do it.

 

Satan raged on him as promised. He experienced days of psychophysical prostration, touched by a weak and impotent prayer.

 

The prophet knew to be into the clutches of Satan, but knowing it and not knowing it was the same, because it was of no consolation. He knew that the light was about to come, but it was as ignoring it. He lived faithfully without knowing it.

 

He came out from there with a keener sight of the “depths” of Satan.

 

The Carthusian writes about it knowing that his experience, more and more real of Satan, will be laughed at by many hierarchs, ready to flaunt officially their faith in eternity of Hell and in the alive existence of Satan.

 

Those are monstrous in their ability to line up with the convictions of the top levels. For them, for their private, father Pio and his charismatic story remains an incredible hoax.

 

They love to embellish themselves with spirituality. They love a faith without any sign, they keep away from inner involvement, they flourish and let up in the world of rational emotional spiritual pastoral mediocrity.

 

They are Satan’s ass, better, his trumpet (of the ass).

 

Had they never been born: this says the Word about them.

 

They are expert in parading and showing off their smiles.

 

In Assisi and S.Giovanni Rotondo smart bishops hang around, cosmically (from Cosmo) distant from the Gospel. Pigs that tear the pearls of Spirit. Whores of power. Smiling smooth moralist rosary-telling but mainly populist; on the Golgotha they would have been green with envy to be pictured next to a divine Cross.

 

For them the church is everything, mainly a throne and a loo cover.

 

They say to themselves: believe, but do not exaggerate. Love, but do not exaggerate. Live, but do not exaggerate. And mainly: do not disturb the roman bitch.

 

If they are honest to themselves, they think about Christ: a dreamer, and above all an ingenuous. On this ingenuity let us extra live and, as an institution, let us reign.

 

A good priest told him: if I analyze myself spiritually, I understand that my life vital root is obedience and not faith, and not love.

This article is available in Italian too