With a view to his being a Francis in nice-guy clothing . . .
He continues to provide fervent objector Hiraeth In Exile grist for his mill.
On August 10th, Leo stepped out onto the balcony for his Angelus and gave the world a homily that would have scandalized any confessor before Vatican II.
Christ’s warning in Luke 12—“Sell your possessions and give alms” — was stripped of its eschatological bite and recast as a talk on self-expression.
Wants to enlarge his audience, why not? But at what cost? People ask for solid stuff and are given what?
We were told that our “skills, time, love, presence, and compassion” are the real treasure to be “invested.” Gone was Christ’s warning about watchfulness, sin, and eternal judgment. In its place came the image of a boyfriend and girlfriend who “feel like king and queen” when together.
Soothing.
When saints like Augustine speak of almsgiving as a means of salvation, they remind us that the poor are Christ in disguise, and that eternal reward requires repentance and amendment of life.
Leo instead gives us romantic couples, parish socials, and a therapeutic call to “relationships and freedom.” This is the sentimental optimism of a religion that cannot speak the word “Hell.”
Do not offend.
Three days later at his General Audience (August 13), Leo turned to the betrayal of Judas. Here again, Catholic truth was hollowed out.
Our Lord’s thunderous words, “It would be better for that man if he had never been born,” were softened into what Leo called a “cry of pain” rather than a warning of eternal damnation.
What did the Jack Nicholas character tell the jury, “Truth? You can’t handle the truth!”?
Leo presents “No small revision”:
Tradition has always read that verse as a solemn reminder of Hell’s reality. Instead, Leo assures us that God “does not avenge evil, but grieves.”
Thus Judas’ treachery is turned into a chance for self-discovery, and the drama of salvation becomes a group therapy session in which we whisper, “Surely it is not I?”
Therapy’s the thing.
Finally, on August 15 at Castel Gandolfo, Leo preached for the Assumption. One might expect the homily to soar to the heavenly liturgy where Our Lady reigns crowned as Queen. Instead, heaven was barely mentioned.
Mary was made a symbol of “Paschal women” and “bridge-builders,” a model for solidarity campaigns rather than the Immaculate Queen assumed into eternal glory.
The lesson’s the thing, something a person can use, compliments of the old philosopher.
The Magnificat? He managed to change it . . .
. . . into a manifesto against “nostalgia and fear,” warning us not to cling to the old world or seek help from the “rich and powerful.”
The Assumption?
. . . a horizontal event: not the dogma that Mary was taken body and soul into heaven, but the idea that her “yes” still “resists death in the martyrs of our time,” in vague gestures of fraternity.
Where Pius XII proclaimed the dogma of Heaven, Leo gives us a rally for earthly activism.
The week’s commentary . . .
reveals the pattern of [his] magisterium. Each feast and Gospel is flattened into the same themes: activism, fragility, feelings, and horizontal solidarity.
Hell is grief. Judas is fragile. Mary is a social worker. Saints are synodal facilitators.
In contrast with Catholicism, says the writer, which . . .
. . . preaches judgment, conversion, and the glory of Heaven.
[Instead] the Leo Church preaches therapy, accompaniment, and earthly projects.
One ends in eternal life. The other ends in fog.
Woe.
Blithe Spirit 