| From a treatise by St Hippolytus against the Noetic heresy |
|---|
Monday, December 23, 2019
| From a treatise by St Hippolytus against the Noetic heresy |
|---|
The hidden sacrament is revealed
Sunday, December 22, 2019
Wife and Mother of Four Describes Experience of Possession, Exorcism
Terese Piccola suffered under so many secrets.
“On the outside, I was the perfect mother, the perfect wife,” she said. “Inside, however, I was broken — and what is worse, I thought I deserved it.”
Speaking exclusively with the Register over the last three months, Piccola related details of her life growing up in an Italian-American home in the suburbs of New York, her marriage and motherhood raising four children, and her activism in the pro-life movement and in her parish — all while quietly enduring years of psychological and emotional torture and unexplained physical ailments.
Her world was turned upside down when extraordinary diabolical phenomena began to manifest themselves as attacks not directly on her, but initially on her children. Her plight ended only after an excruciating year and a half-long battle under the guidance of a clinical psychologist — an expert in possession cases — and through the solemn rite of exorcism.
Open Doors
Piccola related that sexual abuse was the entry point for what would later manifest as demonic possession.
“When I was 6 or 7 years old I was sexually abused on two different occasions,” she said. “I was so ashamed and scared of getting in trouble so I never told my parents. When I was 13, I was raped repeatedly. I would [later] find out the man who raped me had molested a young boy.”
Like many abuse victims, Piccola sought out ways to escape from the reality of her abuse. Encouraged by friends, she began to dabble in the occult.
“I participated in séances and hypnotisms with friends, but I believe the most defining activity happened with the Ouija board when I was 18 years old,” she said. “My sisters and I used it late one night in the house, and something seemed to interfere with the movement of the dial. After that event many strange occurrences happened in the house — water turning on and off, footsteps on the stairs and furniture moved while no one was home.”
“Later, my curiosity for the occult expanded to reading horoscopes, going to fortunetellers, and [having] tarot cards read to me,” Piccola said. “Even when coming back to the Church before getting married, I never confessed these things. I suppose I didn’t realize they were sinful and certainly didn’t think they were portals to evil.”
Abortion was another “open door” for Piccola.
“I had an abortion when I was 17 years old,” she told the Register. “I was a senior in high school and never told my parents. After carrying so much shame with me from childhood, I couldn’t bear to tell them that I was sexually active and pregnant. After my abortion, I became bulimic, sexually promiscuous, depressed, more obsessed with the occult.”
Years later, after marrying and giving birth to her four children, Piccola said she still often felt entirely alone and isolated. Seeking to “atone” for her abortion, she volunteered in pro-life activism and at her church.
Things began to turn for the worse, however, when her youngest son began having violent, unexplainable nightmares. Piccola and her husband asked their parish priest to bless their home. The dreams subsided for a time, but would again revisit her son — so much so, their priest advised them to connect with the diocesan exorcist. It was through this exorcist, during a healing Mass, that Piccola discovered she was the conduit of the demonic oppressions of her family.
Possession
“First of all, I can only speak to my experience,” Piccola said, “but Hollywood loves to depict a possessed person in a very dramatic way. I think this is not good as the enemy loves to be in the spotlight and glamorized. We give way too much attention to him. I can assure you that my eyes never bled, my head never spun around and I didn’t look like I was in a state of psychosis.”
“Quite frankly, outside of the extreme exhaustion — which made my face look drawn — no one would have known I was under such terrible bondage,” she said.
She continued, “Much of what happened for me was internal. I was always in a state of unrest and loneliness. I would sometimes manifest during Mass when my body would shake and tremble terribly, but not to the extent where it caused a large scene.”
Piccola would undergo the solemn rite of exorcism once per week for more than 18 months, in sessions lasting up to three hours. On those days, she and the deliverance team (which included the clinical psychologist and a group of laymen who were there to pray and support — at times, physically — the exorcist in his work) would always begin by going to Mass. After Mass, they would pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Piccola said she was unable to pray this prayer, and the inability to do this would grate on her — the demonic seeking to drive her to despair before the rite of exorcism would even begin.
After additional prayers of protection for the group, the exorcist would lead them in the Litany of the Saints. It was here, Terese said, that the demons that possessed her would begin to manifest themselves. Later, they were to learn that such manifestations would indicate which saint would come to assist her during the rite.
“When sessions first started, I was in and out of awareness,” Piccola continued. “It’s hard to explain, but I was not actually unconscious. I think the closest thing to compare it to is when you take a medication before a surgical procedure and it puts you in a twilight state.”
“During sessions, when the demons would manifest, I exhibited strength beyond my capabilities, my eyes rolled back, my voice changed — these are all accurate depictions in the movies,” she said. “I would often feel or hear these things happening, but the demons would have control over my body and I couldn’t stop things from happening.”
“I felt trapped inside myself, and that was terrifying,” Piccola said. “In the very beginning, I was frightened by it, but then I realized nothing was happening that God didn’t allow, so this gave me peace. I learned how to keep my thoughts hidden so I could pray to Jesus, Mary and the saints during my sessions.”
Piccola said God allowed her to participate in the spiritual battle in a limited way.
“I only remember bits and pieces of the first few sessions,” she said. “Then it shifted, and I noticed I had much more awareness of things. Once prayers began, I had no ability to move or respond except when father spoke directly to me, but I could hear and see things. As my relationship with the Lord grew, and I surrendered more intentionally, I had more control over my movements and words, even exposing things that I could sense with the demons.”
Piccola described, again, how helpless she felt at times, when her body was no longer under her control.
“The demons would seize my body and voice to manifest,” she said. “No matter how hard I tried to regain control, I would just exhaust myself. My voice would change as certain demons manifested, and I could feel it change in my vocal chords.”
“Sometimes it was so painful as the force to expel sound was great,” she said. “I often knew when some major movement was about to happen. I could somehow sense it and would try so hard to fight against it, but then suddenly I would thrust up or my head would shake back and forth aggressively. There were times when I thought my body would just break apart.”
Piccola told the Register she was never physically injured during the often-violent sessions.
“God is so good and never allowed anything that I couldn’t handle,” she said. “By his grace, I was never severely injured. Once I got over the shock of what was happening, I would try to focus on looking at the crucifix, and if my eyes were closed, I would imagine it in my mind. As things were happening on the outside, I prayed and cooperated as much as I could on the inside.”
Liberation
Piccola told the Register that because of the spiritual, mental and physical wounds she had experienced in her life, taking control of what she could was her survival technique. An attitude of control and unforgiveness was a hindrance to her liberation. She had to come to realize she had to relinquish control in her life to God.
“Ultimately,” she said, “I had to accept that this was not my fight. I had to cooperate with Jesus, letting him take control. It was very hard. It is a daily, sometimes hourly commitment to not give up, to surrender, to trust.”
“The real challenge of possession was to reject all the things that had separated me from God,” Piccola said. “Liberation happens when and if there is a willingness to change. The person must want to be liberated. The movies lack this very important piece. It’s not some magic trick where a priest enters dramatically and scares the demons away. It takes full rejection of evil and desire for good. God wants us fully restored.”
Piccola spoke with the Register of having been assisted by saints and angels during her spiritual warfare — bringing in the full understanding of the Church teaching that those who dwell in heaven intercede for the faithful on earth.
Piccola experienced this firsthand.
“I only saw (with my eyes) one saint — St. Michael the Archangel — and only once,” she said. “He appeared as a tall red and white light. He did come to other sessions, but I could only feel his presence, based on the reaction of the demons. There was a terrible fear when he was there. I think the Blessed Mother was the first saint who ever appeared, however. Normally when a saint appeared, I first felt it in my heart and somehow it translated into an image, and then the revelation of the saint. Other times the demons would call out the saint before I even knew. They did this with St. Padre Pio. They feared and despised him.”
“On two different occasions, St. John Paul II came — once as a young pope, and another time as he looked right before he died,” Piccola said. “When he appeared the second time, he was wearing his mitre and had his hand over me praying the prayers with father. He only remained briefly.”
“St. Gemma Galgani came as well. I never knew her before these sessions, but she was insistent on being friends,” Piccola said. “The demons hated her and would spit at pictures of her, as well as [those of] St. Gabriel Possenti. She became a spiritual sister to me, remaining with me to the very end, always prompting me in small ways.”
“Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was another frequent visitor,” she said. “I had never heard of him prior to my sessions. Others came briefly. The Blessed Mother came several more times after the first visit. One time as I was being tormented, I felt her extend her arms out to me, drawing my heart into her embrace.”
A Message of Mercy
Piccola was fully liberated from demonic possession last year, with what she said is a special mission entrusted to her by God to pray for priests. When asked what message she had for Catholics, she responded, “Jesus himself tells us that some demons may only be expelled through prayer and fasting (Mark 9:29). I experienced that, daily. As my relationship with God grew, I learned that I had a part to play in this — God expected me to cooperate, do my part and fight.”
“This is the same, for the Church. Humility is the key,” Piccola said. “When we are broken — such as I was wounded and broken — we must learn how to forgive and not just others, but ourselves. We likewise must look to the Church as the wounded Body of Christ. We have the power to pray, and through that prayer to heal and repair. In doing so, however, there has to be an acceptance of responsibility — especially when scandal has occurred. No one is beyond God’s Mercy. Everyone has a unique purpose. We bind God’s hands, however, through rejection of his mercy.”
Wife and Mother of Four Describes Experience of Possession, Exorcism
Terese Piccola suffered under so many secrets.
“On the outside, I was the perfect mother, the perfect wife,” she said. “Inside, however, I was broken — and what is worse, I thought I deserved it.”
Speaking exclusively with the Register over the last three months, Piccola related details of her life growing up in an Italian-American home in the suburbs of New York, her marriage and motherhood raising four children, and her activism in the pro-life movement and in her parish — all while quietly enduring years of psychological and emotional torture and unexplained physical ailments.
Her world was turned upside down when extraordinary diabolical phenomena began to manifest themselves as attacks not directly on her, but initially on her children. Her plight ended only after an excruciating year and a half-long battle under the guidance of a clinical psychologist — an expert in possession cases — and through the solemn rite of exorcism.
Open Doors
Piccola related that sexual abuse was the entry point for what would later manifest as demonic possession.
“When I was 6 or 7 years old I was sexually abused on two different occasions,” she said. “I was so ashamed and scared of getting in trouble so I never told my parents. When I was 13, I was raped repeatedly. I would [later] find out the man who raped me had molested a young boy.”
Like many abuse victims, Piccola sought out ways to escape from the reality of her abuse. Encouraged by friends, she began to dabble in the occult.
“I participated in séances and hypnotisms with friends, but I believe the most defining activity happened with the Ouija board when I was 18 years old,” she said. “My sisters and I used it late one night in the house, and something seemed to interfere with the movement of the dial. After that event many strange occurrences happened in the house — water turning on and off, footsteps on the stairs and furniture moved while no one was home.”
“Later, my curiosity for the occult expanded to reading horoscopes, going to fortunetellers, and [having] tarot cards read to me,” Piccola said. “Even when coming back to the Church before getting married, I never confessed these things. I suppose I didn’t realize they were sinful and certainly didn’t think they were portals to evil.”
Abortion was another “open door” for Piccola.
“I had an abortion when I was 17 years old,” she told the Register. “I was a senior in high school and never told my parents. After carrying so much shame with me from childhood, I couldn’t bear to tell them that I was sexually active and pregnant. After my abortion, I became bulimic, sexually promiscuous, depressed, more obsessed with the occult.”
Years later, after marrying and giving birth to her four children, Piccola said she still often felt entirely alone and isolated. Seeking to “atone” for her abortion, she volunteered in pro-life activism and at her church.
Things began to turn for the worse, however, when her youngest son began having violent, unexplainable nightmares. Piccola and her husband asked their parish priest to bless their home. The dreams subsided for a time, but would again revisit her son — so much so, their priest advised them to connect with the diocesan exorcist. It was through this exorcist, during a healing Mass, that Piccola discovered she was the conduit of the demonic oppressions of her family.
Possession
“First of all, I can only speak to my experience,” Piccola said, “but Hollywood loves to depict a possessed person in a very dramatic way. I think this is not good as the enemy loves to be in the spotlight and glamorized. We give way too much attention to him. I can assure you that my eyes never bled, my head never spun around and I didn’t look like I was in a state of psychosis.”
“Quite frankly, outside of the extreme exhaustion — which made my face look drawn — no one would have known I was under such terrible bondage,” she said.
She continued, “Much of what happened for me was internal. I was always in a state of unrest and loneliness. I would sometimes manifest during Mass when my body would shake and tremble terribly, but not to the extent where it caused a large scene.”
Piccola would undergo the solemn rite of exorcism once per week for more than 18 months, in sessions lasting up to three hours. On those days, she and the deliverance team (which included the clinical psychologist and a group of laymen who were there to pray and support — at times, physically — the exorcist in his work) would always begin by going to Mass. After Mass, they would pray the Divine Mercy Chaplet. Piccola said she was unable to pray this prayer, and the inability to do this would grate on her — the demonic seeking to drive her to despair before the rite of exorcism would even begin.
After additional prayers of protection for the group, the exorcist would lead them in the Litany of the Saints. It was here, Terese said, that the demons that possessed her would begin to manifest themselves. Later, they were to learn that such manifestations would indicate which saint would come to assist her during the rite.
“When sessions first started, I was in and out of awareness,” Piccola continued. “It’s hard to explain, but I was not actually unconscious. I think the closest thing to compare it to is when you take a medication before a surgical procedure and it puts you in a twilight state.”
“During sessions, when the demons would manifest, I exhibited strength beyond my capabilities, my eyes rolled back, my voice changed — these are all accurate depictions in the movies,” she said. “I would often feel or hear these things happening, but the demons would have control over my body and I couldn’t stop things from happening.”
“I felt trapped inside myself, and that was terrifying,” Piccola said. “In the very beginning, I was frightened by it, but then I realized nothing was happening that God didn’t allow, so this gave me peace. I learned how to keep my thoughts hidden so I could pray to Jesus, Mary and the saints during my sessions.”
Piccola said God allowed her to participate in the spiritual battle in a limited way.
“I only remember bits and pieces of the first few sessions,” she said. “Then it shifted, and I noticed I had much more awareness of things. Once prayers began, I had no ability to move or respond except when father spoke directly to me, but I could hear and see things. As my relationship with the Lord grew, and I surrendered more intentionally, I had more control over my movements and words, even exposing things that I could sense with the demons.”
Piccola described, again, how helpless she felt at times, when her body was no longer under her control.
“The demons would seize my body and voice to manifest,” she said. “No matter how hard I tried to regain control, I would just exhaust myself. My voice would change as certain demons manifested, and I could feel it change in my vocal chords.”
“Sometimes it was so painful as the force to expel sound was great,” she said. “I often knew when some major movement was about to happen. I could somehow sense it and would try so hard to fight against it, but then suddenly I would thrust up or my head would shake back and forth aggressively. There were times when I thought my body would just break apart.”
Piccola told the Register she was never physically injured during the often-violent sessions.
“God is so good and never allowed anything that I couldn’t handle,” she said. “By his grace, I was never severely injured. Once I got over the shock of what was happening, I would try to focus on looking at the crucifix, and if my eyes were closed, I would imagine it in my mind. As things were happening on the outside, I prayed and cooperated as much as I could on the inside.”
Liberation
Piccola told the Register that because of the spiritual, mental and physical wounds she had experienced in her life, taking control of what she could was her survival technique. An attitude of control and unforgiveness was a hindrance to her liberation. She had to come to realize she had to relinquish control in her life to God.
“Ultimately,” she said, “I had to accept that this was not my fight. I had to cooperate with Jesus, letting him take control. It was very hard. It is a daily, sometimes hourly commitment to not give up, to surrender, to trust.”
“The real challenge of possession was to reject all the things that had separated me from God,” Piccola said. “Liberation happens when and if there is a willingness to change. The person must want to be liberated. The movies lack this very important piece. It’s not some magic trick where a priest enters dramatically and scares the demons away. It takes full rejection of evil and desire for good. God wants us fully restored.”
Piccola spoke with the Register of having been assisted by saints and angels during her spiritual warfare — bringing in the full understanding of the Church teaching that those who dwell in heaven intercede for the faithful on earth.
Piccola experienced this firsthand.
“I only saw (with my eyes) one saint — St. Michael the Archangel — and only once,” she said. “He appeared as a tall red and white light. He did come to other sessions, but I could only feel his presence, based on the reaction of the demons. There was a terrible fear when he was there. I think the Blessed Mother was the first saint who ever appeared, however. Normally when a saint appeared, I first felt it in my heart and somehow it translated into an image, and then the revelation of the saint. Other times the demons would call out the saint before I even knew. They did this with St. Padre Pio. They feared and despised him.”
“On two different occasions, St. John Paul II came — once as a young pope, and another time as he looked right before he died,” Piccola said. “When he appeared the second time, he was wearing his mitre and had his hand over me praying the prayers with father. He only remained briefly.”
“St. Gemma Galgani came as well. I never knew her before these sessions, but she was insistent on being friends,” Piccola said. “The demons hated her and would spit at pictures of her, as well as [those of] St. Gabriel Possenti. She became a spiritual sister to me, remaining with me to the very end, always prompting me in small ways.”
“Blessed Jerzy Popieluszko was another frequent visitor,” she said. “I had never heard of him prior to my sessions. Others came briefly. The Blessed Mother came several more times after the first visit. One time as I was being tormented, I felt her extend her arms out to me, drawing my heart into her embrace.”
A Message of Mercy
Piccola was fully liberated from demonic possession last year, with what she said is a special mission entrusted to her by God to pray for priests. When asked what message she had for Catholics, she responded, “Jesus himself tells us that some demons may only be expelled through prayer and fasting (Mark 9:29). I experienced that, daily. As my relationship with God grew, I learned that I had a part to play in this — God expected me to cooperate, do my part and fight.”
“This is the same, for the Church. Humility is the key,” Piccola said. “When we are broken — such as I was wounded and broken — we must learn how to forgive and not just others, but ourselves. We likewise must look to the Church as the wounded Body of Christ. We have the power to pray, and through that prayer to heal and repair. In doing so, however, there has to be an acceptance of responsibility — especially when scandal has occurred. No one is beyond God’s Mercy. Everyone has a unique purpose. We bind God’s hands, however, through rejection of his mercy.”
Friday, December 13, 2019
The Gospel
Our human nature is broken.
It wants things contrary to holiness.
Holiness is true happiness for humans.
By the blood 🩸 of Christ we can be cleaned.
We can get a new heart.
We can have a transformed nature by grace.
Repent means to turn and change your mind.
Therefore repent and believe God.
He’s ways are best for our soul.
Not mans thoughts and ways.
The gift is NEW life in Christ
NOT
OLD life with Christ attached.
He says Be Holy for I Am Holy.
His Grace is the medicine.
The Goal is your soul.
Not your own will and ways. SIN KILLS
The Gospel
Our human nature is broken.
It wants things contrary to holiness.
Holiness is true happiness for humans.
By the blood 🩸 of Christ we can be cleaned.
We can get a new heart.
We can have a transformed nature by grace.
Repent means to turn and change your mind.
Therefore repent and believe God.
He’s ways are best for our soul.
Not mans thoughts and ways.
The gift is NEW life in Christ
NOT
OLD life with Christ attached.
He says Be Holy for I Am Holy.
His Grace is the medicine.
The Goal is your soul.
Not your own will and ways. SIN KILLS
Monday, December 9, 2019
The way which leads to your holiness, and therefore to God cannot be marked out except by God himself and by his own will for you.
Jesus stated emphatically. “Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Mt 7:21).
Perfection consists in doing his will, in being what he wills us to be.
Man should renounce his own spirit, his own views and his own will before doing anything. For the darkness of our own spirit and the evil tendencies of our own will and actions, good as they may seem to us, would hinder the Holy Spirit.
We should cast ourselves into Him like a stone thrown into the sea. This is done easily and quickly by a mere thought, a slight movement of the will or just a few words as, “I renounce myself and give myself to you, my Savior.” And even if we do not experience any emotional fervour in this spiritual encounter it is irrelevant since really it is a choice and offering we make with our will it is none the less real.
Whoever aspires to sanctity must always be on guard against the temptation of wanting to be a saint after his own fashion, according to his own views and plans and choices. That would be a contradiction, for only God, the one holy One, can make us holy, only he knows what is really profitable for our sanctification. The only path that infallibly leads to holiness is the one God has marked out specifically for each person.
Therefore to be in perfect union with God, and hence in the state of sanctity, “a man’s will is so completely transformed into God’s will that it excludes anything contrary to God’s will, and in all and through all is motivated by the will of God”
Repent of self will and be saved. Surrender to Gods Will and plan for you.
The way which leads to your holiness, and therefore to God cannot be marked out except by God himself and by his own will for you.
Jesus stated emphatically. “Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Mt 7:21).
Perfection consists in doing his will, in being what he wills us to be.
Man should renounce his own spirit, his own views and his own will before doing anything. For the darkness of our own spirit and the evil tendencies of our own will and actions, good as they may seem to us, would hinder the Holy Spirit.
We should cast ourselves into Him like a stone thrown into the sea. This is done easily and quickly by a mere thought, a slight movement of the will or just a few words as, “I renounce myself and give myself to you, my Savior.” And even if we do not experience any emotional fervour in this spiritual encounter it is irrelevant since really it is a choice and offering we make with our will it is none the less real.
Whoever aspires to sanctity must always be on guard against the temptation of wanting to be a saint after his own fashion, according to his own views and plans and choices. That would be a contradiction, for only God, the one holy One, can make us holy, only he knows what is really profitable for our sanctification. The only path that infallibly leads to holiness is the one God has marked out specifically for each person.
Therefore to be in perfect union with God, and hence in the state of sanctity, “a man’s will is so completely transformed into God’s will that it excludes anything contrary to God’s will, and in all and through all is motivated by the will of God”
Repent of self will and be saved. Surrender to Gods Will and plan for you.
Friday, December 6, 2019
Cardinal Sarah’s Guide to the New Counter-Reformation
In 1577, St. John of the Cross was taken prisoner by a group of Carmelites from Toledo who were opposed to the reforms of the Order he was undertaking with St. Teresa of Ávila. For eight or nine months, he was held in a six-by-ten-foot cell. The ceiling was so low that John (not a tall man) could hardly stand up. His one tunic was constantly soaked with blood from the frequent scourgings. The food they gave him was so bad that he suspected his guards were trying to poison him; he would say an Act of Love with every bite to steel himself against calumny.
Yet it was here that he wrote the Spiritual Canticle and parts of his masterpiece, Dark Night of the Soul. He bore captivity and torture with such love, patience, and determination that the older Carmelites called him “the coward”. The younger monks—not yet poisoned by the decadence and factionalism of the 16th- century Church—wept at John’s courage in the face of suffering. “This is a saint,” they whispered among themselves.
The most moving story, in my opinion, comes near the end of his confinement. John’s spiritual daughter, St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross—inexplicably known even to Catholics by her secular name, Edith Stein—recalls it in The Science of the Cross:
Prior Maldonado [the “Calced” leader] came to John’s prison cell accompanied by two religious. The prisoner was so weak that he could hardly move. Thinking his jailer had entered, he did not move [to stand] up. The prior poked him with his foot and asked why he did not stand up in his presence. As John begged pardon, saying he had not known who was there, Padre Maldonado asked, “What were you thinking about since you were so absorbed?” [St. John replied,] “I was thinking that tomorrow is the feast of Our Lady and that it would be a great consolation for me if I could say Mass.”
(It’s said that the Virgin appeared to him the next day and showed him how to pick the lock. Talk about a mother’s love!)
It has become common now to say that the Church faces her greatest crisis since the Protestant Reformation. We should remember that a very different priest—Martin Luther, an Augustinian friar—had a very different response to the corruption in the Church: he accused the Pope of being the Antichrist and attacked magisterial teaching, including the dogma of the Real Presence. He defied the bishops, incurred excommunication, and founded a brand-new church to propagate his teachings.
John knew there can be no authentic reform in the absence of obedience to one’s lawful superiors—even superiors as cruel and corrupt as Prior Maldonado. That’s why John is remembered as the greatest saint of the Counter-Reformation, and Luther as the most dangerous heretic in Christian history.
I thought of John as I read Robert Cardinal Sarah’s new book, The Day is Now Far Spent. It is dedicated to two very different pontiffs: Pope Benedict XVI (a “peerless architect of rebuilding the Church”) and Pope Francis (a “faithful and devoted son of Saint Ignatius”). Yet it is Sarah himself, I think, who lays out the finest blueprint we’re likely to see for ecclesial reform—or perhaps I should say counter-reform.
Today, the word “reform” drips with innuendo, just as it did in the time of St. John of the Cross. It signifies a desire to change the permanent teachings of the Church as a solution to institutional corruption. It uses a temporal crisis as an excuse to propagate spiritual errors. It uses moral confusion to camouflage innovation. It can also encourage disobedience in the name of theological purity: we shouldn’t forget that the original Protestants viewed themselves as conservatives.
Just because a man opposes the Maldonados in the Church it doesn’t make him a John of the Cross. He may very well be a Martin Luther.
I have no doubt that Cardinal Sarah, for one, is a John of the Cross. Like the Mystical Doctor, he takes seriously St. Paul’s warning to the Ephesians: “For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” Ultimately, the source of the present crisis—whether “present” means the 16th century or the 21st—isn’t new: it’s original sin.
Ultimately, then, the solution isn’t novel either: it’s the pursuit of greater holiness. As our Enemy is sin itself, the easiest sins to do battle against are those festering in our own souls. As St. Francis of Assisi put it, “the soldier of Christ must begin with victory over himself.”
The Day Is Now Far Spent is a manual for the new Counter-Reformation. As such, it’s as concerned with addressing the false solutions to the crisis as it is with the crisis itself—with refuting the Luthers as well as the Maldonados. His Eminence warns that,
No human effort, however talented or generous it may be, can transform a soul and give it the life of Christ. Only the grace and the Cross of Jesus can save and sanctify souls and make the Church grow. Multiplying human efforts, believing that methods and strategies have any efficacy in themselves, will always be a waste of time.
Cardinal Sarah isn’t recommending we ignore the crisis. On the contrary. “Let us not be afraid to say that the Church needs profound reform and that this happens through our conversion.” (Emphasis added.) “Go,” he commands; “repair by your faith, by your hope, and by your charity.”
❧
“Wait a minute, Davis,” I hear some of you saying; “This doesn’t sit right with me. What about Bergoglio? What about Pachamama and the German bishops’ ‘synodal journey’? What about the Viganò report and the unanswered dubia? Are you saying we should ignore all of this and just say the rosary?”
Well, the rosary is certainly a good place to start—and a good place to end. It’ not a bad place to stop along the way either.
It is true that no crisis has ever been solved by mere inaction. But, once we’ve resolved to act, the question becomes, How do we act most effectively? Cardinal Sarah’s answer: prayer. His book is fundamentally about the efficacy of grace.
Those who follow the daily meditations of another Discalced Carmelite, Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalen’s Divine Intimacy, may remember the reflection from two Wednesdays ago on apostolic prayer. As Fr. Gabriel reminds us,
We can never be certain at all that our prayers will be answered according to our expectation, for we do not know if what we ask is conformable to God’s will; but when it is a question of apostolic prayer which asks for grace and the salvation of souls, it is a very different matter. In fact, when we pray for the aims of the apostolate, we are fitting into the plan prearranged by God Himself from all eternity, that plan for the salvation of all men which God desires to put into action infinitely more than we do; therefore, we cannot doubt the efficacy of our prayer. Because of this effectiveness, apostolic prayer is one of the most powerful means of furthering the apostolate.
For “if God has willed the distribution of grace in the world to depend upon the prayers of men,” then we can render no better service to the Church than to set about diligently distributing these graces, teaching others how to do so, and encouraging them in their efforts.
By the same token, the Enemy would be most gratified if we came to value our own “methods and strategies” above Our Lord’s. Better yet, we could distract others. We could join the secular, anti-Catholic media in amplifying the corruption within the Church, thereby leading others to become scandalized. (Nearly 40 percent of U.S. Catholics have considered leaving the Church over clerical sex abuse.) We could cause our fellow Catholics to lose faith in our spiritual fathers. (“Those who make sensational announcements of change and rupture are false prophets,” Cardinal Sarah charges.)
Our Blessed Lord’s strategy for reform is quite simple: “Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” Everything else is idle noise.
Of course, Cardinal Sarah isn’t suggesting we ignore the crisis in the Church. On the contrary, he writes: “Let us not be afraid to say that the Church needs profound reform and that this happens through our conversion.” Those last three words are crucial: through our conversion. “We do not reform the Church by division and hatred,” he warns; “We reform the Church when we start by changing ourselves!”
Where should our conversion lead us? To a deeper faith in Christ, as opposed to a prideful faith in our own schemes. What do we need to change in ourselves? Anything that separates us from Him. He attacks the spiritual and moral roots of the rot—roots that spread far wider than the Vatican and go further back than 2013.
At the heart of all modern corruption and decadence—both within and without the Church—is the problem of materialism. As Cardinal Sarah states rather movingly, “The supernatural is swallowed up in the desert of the natural.” This is why the real solution to the present crisis—namely, prayer and fasting—seems so quaint, perhaps even naïve. It’s as though we can’t tell the difference between an image of St. Michael armed for battle and one of Bouguereau’s putti.
The most obvious manifestation of this decadence, this pervasive materialism, is the smartphone. His Eminence asks us to consider how much time we spend “absorbed by the images, lights, [and] ghosts” it offers. He calls the ubiquitous screen “an eternal illusion, a little prison cell.” The cardinal warns that these devices
steal silence, destroy the richness of solitude, and trample on intimacy. It often happens that they snatch us away from our loving life with God to expose us to the periphery, to what is external to us in the midst of the world.
(By the way, that goes for tablets, computers, and televisions as well.)
Can we bring ourselves to get rid of our devices, deactivate our social media accounts, and dedicate those liberated hours to deepening our relationship with God? Can we accept that the Church will only grow bigger and stronger as we ourselves become smaller and meeker? Can we trust Christ enough to take Him up on His offer to cease carrying our burden and rest? Are we humble enough to admit that our burden is too heavy for us to carry, and to take up His easy yoke instead?
Martin Luther said No, and went on to appoint himself reformer of the Church. In his arrogance and disobedience, that one friar wounded our Holy Mother more grievously than all the Maldonados put together.
John of the Cross stood by the Church. He cleaned her wounds with the tears he wept over sins—most especially his own. He nourished her with his fasting. He strengthened her with his suffering. He kept her company in the dark night, even when Our Lord withdrew His sweet consolation. It was his patience, humility, and obedience—even towards Maldonado—that won the wicked prior’s monks to his cause.
“If you think that your priests and bishops are not saints,” Cardinal Sarah writes, “then be one for them.” Today, there’s only one Carmelite monastery in Toledo, and it’s Discalced.
There will be no shortage of Luthers in this generation. But, with The Day Is Now Spent, we know there’s at least one John of the Cross in our midst.
Cardinal Sarah's Guide to the New Counter-Reformation - Crisis Magazine
Cardinal Sarah’s Guide to the New Counter-Reformation
In 1577, St. John of the Cross was taken prisoner by a group of Carmelites from Toledo who were opposed to the reforms of the Order he was undertaking with St. Teresa of Ávila. For eight or nine months, he was held in a six-by-ten-foot cell. The ceiling was so low that John (not a tall man) could hardly stand up. His one tunic was constantly soaked with blood from the frequent scourgings. The food they gave him was so bad that he suspected his guards were trying to poison him; he would say an Act of Love with every bite to steel himself against calumny.
Yet it was here that he wrote the Spiritual Canticle and parts of his masterpiece, Dark Night of the Soul. He bore captivity and torture with such love, patience, and determination that the older Carmelites called him “the coward”. The younger monks—not yet poisoned by the decadence and factionalism of the 16th- century Church—wept at John’s courage in the face of suffering. “This is a saint,” they whispered among themselves.
The most moving story, in my opinion, comes near the end of his confinement. John’s spiritual daughter, St. Theresa Benedicta of the Cross—inexplicably known even to Catholics by her secular name, Edith Stein—recalls it in The Science of the Cross:
Prior Maldonado [the “Calced” leader] came to John’s prison cell accompanied by two religious. The prisoner was so weak that he could hardly move. Thinking his jailer had entered, he did not move [to stand] up. The prior poked him with his foot and asked why he did not stand up in his presence. As John begged pardon, saying he had not known who was there, Padre Maldonado asked, “What were you thinking about since you were so absorbed?” [St. John replied,] “I was thinking that tomorrow is the feast of Our Lady and that it would be a great consolation for me if I could say Mass.”
(It’s said that the Virgin appeared to him the next day and showed him how to pick the lock. Talk about a mother’s love!)
It has become common now to say that the Church faces her greatest crisis since the Protestant Reformation. We should remember that a very different priest—Martin Luther, an Augustinian friar—had a very different response to the corruption in the Church: he accused the Pope of being the Antichrist and attacked magisterial teaching, including the dogma of the Real Presence. He defied the bishops, incurred excommunication, and founded a brand-new church to propagate his teachings.
John knew there can be no authentic reform in the absence of obedience to one’s lawful superiors—even superiors as cruel and corrupt as Prior Maldonado. That’s why John is remembered as the greatest saint of the Counter-Reformation, and Luther as the most dangerous heretic in Christian history.
I thought of John as I read Robert Cardinal Sarah’s new book, The Day is Now Far Spent. It is dedicated to two very different pontiffs: Pope Benedict XVI (a “peerless architect of rebuilding the Church”) and Pope Francis (a “faithful and devoted son of Saint Ignatius”). Yet it is Sarah himself, I think, who lays out the finest blueprint we’re likely to see for ecclesial reform—or perhaps I should say counter-reform.
Today, the word “reform” drips with innuendo, just as it did in the time of St. John of the Cross. It signifies a desire to change the permanent teachings of the Church as a solution to institutional corruption. It uses a temporal crisis as an excuse to propagate spiritual errors. It uses moral confusion to camouflage innovation. It can also encourage disobedience in the name of theological purity: we shouldn’t forget that the original Protestants viewed themselves as conservatives.
Just because a man opposes the Maldonados in the Church it doesn’t make him a John of the Cross. He may very well be a Martin Luther.
I have no doubt that Cardinal Sarah, for one, is a John of the Cross. Like the Mystical Doctor, he takes seriously St. Paul’s warning to the Ephesians: “For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.” Ultimately, the source of the present crisis—whether “present” means the 16th century or the 21st—isn’t new: it’s original sin.
Ultimately, then, the solution isn’t novel either: it’s the pursuit of greater holiness. As our Enemy is sin itself, the easiest sins to do battle against are those festering in our own souls. As St. Francis of Assisi put it, “the soldier of Christ must begin with victory over himself.”
The Day Is Now Far Spent is a manual for the new Counter-Reformation. As such, it’s as concerned with addressing the false solutions to the crisis as it is with the crisis itself—with refuting the Luthers as well as the Maldonados. His Eminence warns that,
No human effort, however talented or generous it may be, can transform a soul and give it the life of Christ. Only the grace and the Cross of Jesus can save and sanctify souls and make the Church grow. Multiplying human efforts, believing that methods and strategies have any efficacy in themselves, will always be a waste of time.
Cardinal Sarah isn’t recommending we ignore the crisis. On the contrary. “Let us not be afraid to say that the Church needs profound reform and that this happens through our conversion.” (Emphasis added.) “Go,” he commands; “repair by your faith, by your hope, and by your charity.”
❧
“Wait a minute, Davis,” I hear some of you saying; “This doesn’t sit right with me. What about Bergoglio? What about Pachamama and the German bishops’ ‘synodal journey’? What about the Viganò report and the unanswered dubia? Are you saying we should ignore all of this and just say the rosary?”
Well, the rosary is certainly a good place to start—and a good place to end. It’ not a bad place to stop along the way either.
It is true that no crisis has ever been solved by mere inaction. But, once we’ve resolved to act, the question becomes, How do we act most effectively? Cardinal Sarah’s answer: prayer. His book is fundamentally about the efficacy of grace.
Those who follow the daily meditations of another Discalced Carmelite, Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalen’s Divine Intimacy, may remember the reflection from two Wednesdays ago on apostolic prayer. As Fr. Gabriel reminds us,
We can never be certain at all that our prayers will be answered according to our expectation, for we do not know if what we ask is conformable to God’s will; but when it is a question of apostolic prayer which asks for grace and the salvation of souls, it is a very different matter. In fact, when we pray for the aims of the apostolate, we are fitting into the plan prearranged by God Himself from all eternity, that plan for the salvation of all men which God desires to put into action infinitely more than we do; therefore, we cannot doubt the efficacy of our prayer. Because of this effectiveness, apostolic prayer is one of the most powerful means of furthering the apostolate.
For “if God has willed the distribution of grace in the world to depend upon the prayers of men,” then we can render no better service to the Church than to set about diligently distributing these graces, teaching others how to do so, and encouraging them in their efforts.
By the same token, the Enemy would be most gratified if we came to value our own “methods and strategies” above Our Lord’s. Better yet, we could distract others. We could join the secular, anti-Catholic media in amplifying the corruption within the Church, thereby leading others to become scandalized. (Nearly 40 percent of U.S. Catholics have considered leaving the Church over clerical sex abuse.) We could cause our fellow Catholics to lose faith in our spiritual fathers. (“Those who make sensational announcements of change and rupture are false prophets,” Cardinal Sarah charges.)
Our Blessed Lord’s strategy for reform is quite simple: “Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” Everything else is idle noise.
Of course, Cardinal Sarah isn’t suggesting we ignore the crisis in the Church. On the contrary, he writes: “Let us not be afraid to say that the Church needs profound reform and that this happens through our conversion.” Those last three words are crucial: through our conversion. “We do not reform the Church by division and hatred,” he warns; “We reform the Church when we start by changing ourselves!”
Where should our conversion lead us? To a deeper faith in Christ, as opposed to a prideful faith in our own schemes. What do we need to change in ourselves? Anything that separates us from Him. He attacks the spiritual and moral roots of the rot—roots that spread far wider than the Vatican and go further back than 2013.
At the heart of all modern corruption and decadence—both within and without the Church—is the problem of materialism. As Cardinal Sarah states rather movingly, “The supernatural is swallowed up in the desert of the natural.” This is why the real solution to the present crisis—namely, prayer and fasting—seems so quaint, perhaps even naïve. It’s as though we can’t tell the difference between an image of St. Michael armed for battle and one of Bouguereau’s putti.
The most obvious manifestation of this decadence, this pervasive materialism, is the smartphone. His Eminence asks us to consider how much time we spend “absorbed by the images, lights, [and] ghosts” it offers. He calls the ubiquitous screen “an eternal illusion, a little prison cell.” The cardinal warns that these devices
steal silence, destroy the richness of solitude, and trample on intimacy. It often happens that they snatch us away from our loving life with God to expose us to the periphery, to what is external to us in the midst of the world.
(By the way, that goes for tablets, computers, and televisions as well.)
Can we bring ourselves to get rid of our devices, deactivate our social media accounts, and dedicate those liberated hours to deepening our relationship with God? Can we accept that the Church will only grow bigger and stronger as we ourselves become smaller and meeker? Can we trust Christ enough to take Him up on His offer to cease carrying our burden and rest? Are we humble enough to admit that our burden is too heavy for us to carry, and to take up His easy yoke instead?
Martin Luther said No, and went on to appoint himself reformer of the Church. In his arrogance and disobedience, that one friar wounded our Holy Mother more grievously than all the Maldonados put together.
John of the Cross stood by the Church. He cleaned her wounds with the tears he wept over sins—most especially his own. He nourished her with his fasting. He strengthened her with his suffering. He kept her company in the dark night, even when Our Lord withdrew His sweet consolation. It was his patience, humility, and obedience—even towards Maldonado—that won the wicked prior’s monks to his cause.
“If you think that your priests and bishops are not saints,” Cardinal Sarah writes, “then be one for them.” Today, there’s only one Carmelite monastery in Toledo, and it’s Discalced.
There will be no shortage of Luthers in this generation. But, with The Day Is Now Spent, we know there’s at least one John of the Cross in our midst.
Cardinal Sarah's Guide to the New Counter-Reformation - Crisis Magazine
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