Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Icons, the Church and the People of God

Guest Author! Many of us in the West are fascinated by icons, but we tend to not "get" the whole idea, with often lamentable results. Bald Eagle leaves her lofty perch to educate us about something she knows quite a bit about. Which will be a big change from the Bear just making up stuff about which he knows nothing.

The First Icon
(in more ways than one)

A thick piece of wood. Clay. Chalk, linen and the skin of rabbits. Colored dirt from various regions of the earth. Duck eggs, vinegar and water. Gold or silver. The very breath of the human person and an agate stone. Fur from the tail of martens or squirrels. Oil of the flax plant.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is an icon.

Or is it?

Icons and the Church
While in the period of iconoclasm, the Church struggled for the icon, in our time it is the icon that struggles for the Church (Leonid Ouspensky). 
Sacred icons have long been considered in the West as windows to heaven, theology in color or, as some Early Church council fathers put it (paraphrased), the Gospel for the spiritually illiterate - portals to the threshold of the supernatural that many do not know about, while others desire to see, but have not yet seen. Icons, however, unlike religious paintings, are neither the sum of their above parts, nor just the simplistic definitions given; or even the distorted, unsmiling and, at times, disproportionately elongated representations of human persons now living in the fullness of the Divine Light.

Icons are neither one of the seven sacraments of the universal Church, nor mere sacramentals as popularly understood in the Western Church. They are a cross between the former and the latter because of:
  1. the grace with which they become invested, after having been both named and officially blessed in church; often becoming 'wonder-working' in unabashed ways some consider to be unbelievably outrageous - if not downright unbelievable;
  2. any relative worship offered to them by people passes on directly to whoever is depicted therein - namely, "the honor which is shown them is referred to the prototypes which those images represent" (Council of Trent); and 
  3. their portrayed representations are "not like the original with respect to essence, but with respect to hypostasis" (Nicaea II), including the divine hypostases.
The worship referred to here is that of proskynesis (veneration), not latreia (adoration and absolute worship) which is reserved for God alone.

Icons, moreover, differ from religious paintings in the following ways:
  1. They are not just portraits of people, but "prototypes of the future human person-within-the-Church" (Evgenii Nikolaevich Trubetskoi) - namely, the deified person in keeping with that bold proclamation of Jesus Christ: "I said, you are gods" (Jn 10:34);
  2. The "light of the first day and of the eighth day meet in the icon [because it is] always characterized by the unity of creation, Christology and eschatology" (Paul Evdokimov). Thus icons (and frescos written in traditional iconographic style) have both a liturgical function and a theophanic ministry, uniting the meaning and presence of God in the light of the Transfiguration; 
  3. By their carefully planned, internal geometric structure; their design and deliberate restraint, icons facilitate a sense of stillness, order, quietude and peace - hence, a sense of spiritual transcendence - both in people and in the environment in which they are found. These factors are commonly absent from, or actively worked against by, the sentimentalized and/or sensualized representations of God, the saints and the angels found in much religious art of the West, which facilitates the natural, rather than the supernatural, by exciting the flesh instead of the spirit; 
  4. By virtue of #2 and #3 as these interact with grace, icons can facilitate the opening up of the heart of people's souls, counteracting that darkness and "blindness of the spirit [which is] a symptom of the crisis of man's very existence" (Benedict XVI);
  5. Again by virtue of #2 and #3, icons can effectively convey the beauty and presence of God during the apophatic darkness, not just during the cataphatic presentation of the Christian life;
  6. Icons are embodied prayer, created in prayer, for prayer, by the driving force that is "the love of God and yearning for Him as perfect beauty" (Archimandrite Zenon);
  7. Icons are "the fruit of contemplation, [coming] from an interior vision and thus lead[ing] us to such an interior vision . . . in communion with the seeing faith of the Church, [with] the ecclesial dimension [being] essential" (Benedict XVI); and
  8. They speak "about dogmatic truths revealed to human beings in Scripture and Tradition, [being] anthropological in content, while reflecting the eschatological, redeemed and deified state of nature, [with a] liturgical and mystical purpose" (Metropolitan Alfeyev).
Thus, why are icons so needed in the Church today?

The New Iconoclasm
Iconoclasm constitutes heresy (Nicaea II).
Go into a Catholic church in the West - in particular, a new or recently-built church - and you can be forgiven for thinking that you have, all of a sudden, entered into either a spaceship reminiscent of Star Trek or the auditorium of a theater, or even just a garage, despite all the money spent, time consumed and planners planned. Wreckovators, under the name of 'liturgists' or 'liturgical consultants,' have elevated the natural - or worse - over the supernatural, oftentimes without knowing the underlying spiritual consequences of these wreckovations, as long as the creations resultant from their ideas were, in effect if not in intent, made in their own image under the rationalization of being 'hip' and 'with the times.'

Now, all that may be well and good as far as reason goes. After all, we are in the 21st century and reason has, for the most part, become decontextualized from faith and reified in its own right. But how is any of that going to quieten the flesh and still the soul, while engaging all your senses, to help you pray and give you a tangible experience of the timelessness, infinite presence and similarly infinite love of God?

Icons and the sacred art of iconography, considered in the context of the universal Church, have grown directly out of the grass-roots struggle of the People of God "with the kingdom and the image of the beast" (Trubetskoi) - namely, that kingdom whereby All these things will I give you, if you fall down and worship me (Mt 4:7). As embodied prayer that facilitates more prayer, the opening of one's heart and the possible re-opening of the heart of one's soul through grace, in consequence the elevation of one's spirit to God, icons can fill souls with a vision of a very different truth about life, existential meaning and the world; a truth that of necessity and by attraction draws people into the otherworldly vision of the City of God (Augustine of Hippo). The quiet drama portrayed in icons facilitates the reassurance that "the destruction left by the beast and his kingdom are not all in all, but there is another meaning to life and it shall prevail" (Trubetskoi). And this despite the present, conscious veneration of the image of the beast, part of which is the new iconoclasm in the Church; especially that taking place in the Catholic Church.

Icons, with their created beauty that is both a mediated and an endowed tiny presentation of the Uncreated Beauty Who Is God, have the power of providing spiritual strength to people. They also, by virtue of said beauty, are capable of making people hunger or develop a hunger for the inheritance that is our birthright - namely, that infinite and eternal place of Divine Light, which is both God and our Father's House.

Are icons needed in the Church today?

You decide.

© Marcelle Bartolo-Abela, aka The Bald Eagle for the purpose of these Woodlands.

Monday, May 29, 2017

The Plausibility of the Ascension

Apology for Something in Previous Piece

First of all, some comments did not appear after approval. Anything is possible, including Bear clicking the wrong button. Nothing was deemed unsuitable or deliberately spiked. Bear apologizes. Using Tourette Syndrome as a joke is probably not the most sensitive thing to do. He is sorry and will not do it again. It is a particularly hurtful reference, Bear realizes, because it is a little-understood disease that draws embarrassing attention and displays ourselves as something we are really not.

From now on, the Bear will refer to Ursine Homelitic Explosive Disorder.

The Ascension

Icon For the Win

Now, let's talk about the Ascension. The Bear makes this little speech just about every time, he thinks.

The image of Christ floating up into the sky until he disappears into clouds has always struck the Bear as ludicrous, especially since the Bear was a private pilot. Satan is on his shoulder yukking it up about the ceiling, the pattern instructions for that airfield, whether Jesus was under visual or instrument flight rules and other lame jokes.

The Bear has a problem, then, that you probably don't and no one should. Bear wonders if we all have our little niggling difficulties like that. As Newman said, "a thousand difficulties do not make a single doubt." That is a blessed phrase to engrave on your memory.

It is not because the Bear cannot imagine the Ascension. It is because he can imagine it all too well. It would not take a very big CGI budget to make it happen in an utterly convincing way in a movie these days.

The Bear appreciates our often hyper-realistic, sentimental Western religious art. But when it comes to the Ascension (and other events) he has to hand it to the Orthodox. Icons are not meant to be a representation of what one might have seen had one been on hand. They convey the reality of the event in a way that is physical but clearly meant to be something both more and less. The icon of the Ascension is not meant to look realistic. It is meant to convey the event from a different perspective.

The Bear's publisher is an expert on icons. Perhaps he might prevail upon her to write a piece for us. As former Orthodox, icons are dear to the Bear's heart, and an oil lampada burns day and night before a lovely (if non-traditional) Russian icon of the infant Christ and the Blessed Virgin Mary.

How to Make Difficulties Your Friends

Whenever the Bear has a "difficulty" like this, he stalks it like a Bear. He circles it and calculates the implications for every angle.

Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, Who came from Heaven in bodily form from the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary, had accomplished his earthly mission. It was time to go. The only question left is how?

What is the Best Possible Way Jesus Could Have Left?

He could have just wandered off into the desert. That would have been a bad choice because anyone could then wander out of the desert claiming to be Jesus returned. It also lacks the dramatic finality and leaves open the question of his heavenly origin.

He could have finished by descending into the earth. Boy, would that have sent the wrong message.

He could have just disappeared, like he had previously done to escape the crowd of Jews who wanted to kill him. Yet, he had simply reappeared after that. Not much finality there. Also that would leave no indication of where he went, or how he might return.

No matter how you look it, only one departure makes any sense. Only the Ascension takes him away from us in his body (hugely important for Christology).

Only the Ascension returns him from whence he came. Not the sky of clouds and birds, of course, but better. When Genesis records that God created heaven and earth, "heaven" is a Hebrew word that covers several meanings - just as in English. There would be no doubt in the minds of witnesses that he was returning to the realm of God and his Heavenly Host.

(By the way, the angels arrive as messengers for the King, suggesting that Jesus was something higher than an angel.)

Only the Ascension demonstrates how he will return. (Not to mention implies that he will return.) There will be no confusion. Jesus is very clear on that point. The Gospels are vague, and even apparently contradictory on the timing. But in any case he tells us not to worry about that. Just be ready. When Jesus returns, everyone will know about it. He left publicly because he is coming back in the greatest show on Earth.

It was also a great way to generate buzz about the fledgling Church.

So, as weird as it seems, the Bear concludes that if Jesus really did return to Heaven, the Ascension was hardly ridiculous at all. It was the best possible choice for God. It was also a choice that is so perfect that it strengthen's the Bear's faith when he meditates on it, rather than weakens it.

The Judgment of Elvis

The Bear used to have all sorts of silly difficulties that are embarrassing to relate. The idea of Elvis being judged seemed so incongruous that the Bear could not think about it without rolling his eyes. The ultimate worldly icon being judged? Would he be wearing his white Vegas outfit, maybe with a mic in his hand singing Amazing Grace?

The Bear will let you figure out how he resolved that one, and in a way that was edifying. Here's a little secret. Your tempting demon is terrible, but he is no match for your guardian angel. If you turn your attention from your left shoulder to your right (where your guardian angel lives, as everyone knows) she will smile and draw a lesson even from the devil's jokes.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Today's Wackadoodle Homily

A Jacobite flag.

Frequent Flyer Miles to Heaven

My parish is blessed with a priest - and he probably knows all about this ephemeris yet it does him no good - who is an Ecumenical Catholic. Whenever he jets off to some ecumenical conference, which seems to be nearly every week, he comes back bubbling with enthusiasm which, for some reason, he expects us to share.

God knows why, not Bear.

Fortunately, God, in His wisdom, pushed Bear down the stairs the night before last and Bear was too injured to attend Mass. (Bear was on a late-night honey run.)

Red Death had to face the horror of what was to come alone.

The Bear is now inspired to lift his basso profundo voice in one of those great melancholy Irish songs about defeat. Here is the best one: After Aughrim's Great Disaster (1691).

The Jacobites Lost, but Had All the Best Songs

The Catholic Jacobites fought a coalition from England, Scotland, and the Netherlands, along with various mercenaries. (You can actually test for any Celt DNA in you by listening to this song. If you remain dry-eyed you're free of the maddest and most wonderful genius of them all.)

Thank God for the Irish and bless my own blue-eyed red-haired daughter of Eire who just might show up at Mass next Sunday wearing nothing but a coating of woad and brandishing her war spear. It's taken until the last couple of weeks for the Church to finally break her cradle Catholic heart, but she's finally tired of playing the abused sheep.

We converts came into the Church mostly because we concluded it was the only place to be. No doubt we were attracted by the beauty (unless we are recent converts) but the Bear knows it was the truth that brought him in. It is the truth and only the truth that will keep him here.

Cradle Catholics famously don't often know as much as many converts, who have voraciously sucked up as much of Catholicism as they could. And yet cradle Catholics have deep roots which makes their place in the Church nearly beyond worry. When you've got a fourth generation immigrant Irish Catholic coming home in tears because she just can't take all the crap anymore that is a major indicator of disaster.

Part of the song goes like this:

Our prayer is 'God save Ireland and pour blessings on her name.'

May her sons be true when needed,
May they never fail as we did,
For Sean O'Duibhir an Ghleanna, we were worsted in the game.

The Catholic Jacobites fought bravely but were outnumbered by the Dutchman's troops and defeated. As was customary in those days, Catholics were tortured until they converted to what is now Catholicism if they could only have held out a few centuries longer.

Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses,
yearning to breathe free... Welcome to America!

At this conference, according to Father, some non-Catholic or another repeated a suggestion this man had attributed to New York mayor Bloomberg.

The Liberty Pole

The Statue of Liberty should be replaced as our national symbol of welcome by the subway pole.

Bears aren't much for subways, probably because they live in the woodlands and even the Raccoons and Moles combined cannot build a decent subway system. The Bear confesses he does not know what a subway pole is. He thinks it might be that long, long pole that runs down the middle of the tracks. "Yes, here, welcome to America! Just touch that pole to make it official!"

But, like Bear said, he doesn't know anything about subway poles, so he would be a very poor greeter even in Donald Trump's America. "No, not that pole, the other - oh bother."

For example, the Bear did not know this:

When Father repeated this business about replacing the Statue of Liberty, a German lady sitting next to Bride of Bear exclaimed, in a loud voice, "Vas?" She was doubtless herself an immigrant, and may have harbored some sentimental attachment to the Lady with the Torch.

So the homily was about various crackpot ecumenical ideas floated by the usual suspects. It could have been worse, Bear supposes, like adding Mohammed as the 13th Apostle, but most parishioners just don't care by the time the homily rolls around. They turn off their hearing aids, discover a need to visit the bathroom, or discretely stick their fingers in their ears. Some go to the cry room for a snack. (That's where the doughnuts are kept! What were you thinking? There haven't been any kids in the cry room for fifteen years.)

Sometimes they display Homiletic Tourette Syndrome then leave.

Oh, by the way, Jesus may have done something, but it was an afterthought and the mic was already off, so Bear cannot report.

May future generations of Catholics - and it will be at once the biggest in history and the smallest since Pentecost - never fail as we did. For Sean O'Duibhir an Ghleanna, we were worsted in the game.

Saturday, May 27, 2017

Congrats Canon 212

The Bear's favorite Catholic News Aggregator, Canon 212. won the 2017 New Evangelization Award from Big C Catholic. Bravo! Frank and, well, elves are the only logical explanation, do a remarkable job keeping tabs on the daily disco-ball of glittering madness that is the Franciscan Church. It is always part of the Bear's very elite blog roll. (That doesn't mean Bear doesn't like other blogs, but he does not wish to dilute the power of his endorsement, if you know what he means.)

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Tornado Alley Terrorism Advice

The Bear is proud to call home the very groin of the United States. The mounds and ripples of southern Illinois are densely covered with old growth. It is our very own "mesopotamia," or land between the rivers, where the blue Ohio and muddy Mississippi descend like great national ureters to abruptly, if unenthusiastically, void their contents at the scuffed toe of Cairo.

The pure blue Ohio (r) resists the muddy Mississippi (l)

The Land Between the Rivers, southern Illinois, is also smack dab in the middle of Tornado Alley. Oh, yes, we know a tornado really does sound like a locomotive, and we say so to the local television reporters every time there is one.

1925 Tri-State Tornado Attack

In 1925, 234 were killed in nearby Murphysboro, Illinois alone by the Tri-State Tornado, which makes it the most deadly tornado attack to this day. The same merciless vortex plowed through Tornado Alley from Missouri to Indiana killing many more, although possibly not 1000. It did not spare schools or children. My mother was very young, but her memory in West Frankfort, Illinois, was of an upside down Model-T with the wheels still turning.

Big cities are not spared, either. In 1896 a St. Louis tornado killed a couple of hundred and bit a chunk out of the approach to the Civil-War era Eads Bridge that still spans the Mississippi.

Tornadoes like those are rare, though. There are relative few victims. Yesterday's headlines fade away. In tornado alley, we know spring will bring the radio warning bleeps and the sirens and some afternoons will be tense as the temperature drops, the sky turns sickly green, and the wind whips up.

We make sure our flashlights and phones are charged, clear the path to the basement, and keep one eye on the sky. We round up the pets. But, mostly, we shrug.

They are a real threat, but we all know that statistically they are likely to claim somebody else's life, if any at all, not ours. Besides, there's nothing we can do about it. It's a trade-off. It is a beautiful and scenic place to live, here in Tornado Alley. Any tornado is probably going to skip my five acres.

Terrorism is a lot like tornadoes. They bring relatively small numbers of random death with spectacular surprise.

Europe seems to have become 'Terrorist Alley." The Bear thinks his own experience here in Tornado Alley is relevant. Just accept it as a risk of living where you do.The chances of terrorism killing you or anyone you care about are very, very small. A fluke, really. Besides (unlike tornadoes) even studying "the root causes of" terrorism - usually a favorite game among humans - is not permitted. One can hardly even mention the topic in polite society.

So, terrorism is just something that happens. Nobody knows why, although the consensus is related to mental illness. Make yourself as safe as you can, but don't go overboard. You have statistics on our side. And keep telling yourself that there's nothing you can do about it anyway. The benefits of, well, whatever they are of living in a vibrant multi-cultural society far out weigh the dangers of the occasional low-casualty terrorist attack.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

To Following Readers: IMPORTANT

Edward G. O. Radler Rice



Please email Bear your mailing address and any special instructions regarding the autograph of your copy of Judging Angels. Thank you. (If you have already supplied this information, Bear must have lost it in the current confusion.)

Thanks to everyone who already has their copy in hand. Bear hopes his friends are enjoying it (and looks forward to their reviews, hint, hint). You have an advantage over non-Woodland Creatures because you know not to expect:
  1. Dan Brown.
  2. The Exorcist.
  3. "A heartwarming tale of a mysterious stranger who shows up in a small town and changes the inhabitants' lives forever." (Something like Pope Francis' "favorite movie" Babette's Feast.)
  4. Anything set in the 4th Century.
  5. An old priest finds a relic of unimaginable power that may determine the fate of the universe in the final cosmic conflict between Heaven and Hell.
  6. Fifteen-year-old Angela is the least popular girl in her high school when the dreamy new boy with glowing red eyes asks her to the prom.
  7. A wagon train of Amish brides is ambushed by Indians, but beneath their nine-patch quilts is hidden a shipment of the latest Browning Automatic Rifles. (This sort of Christian historical romance can miss a few details.)
  8. Mostly anything the Bear says about it.
  9. How Muslims saved Western Civilization and will renew it in our century.
  10. The Humble Wisdom of Pope Francis.
Or anything else that comes to mind when people think of "Christian / Catholic Fantasy."

The Bear is pleased to report that the Kindle Version of Judging Angels is hanging in at #8 today in Amazon's weirdly-titled "Hot Christian Fantasy" category against all the giveaway books. He just wonders what all those teenage girls and Amish women are going to think when they read the first page. Girls, just skip toward the end of Chapter 28: A Fine Romance With No Kisses, right before Chapter 29: Hotel Blocks Cops, Tots Chopped.

Find the now-infamous "Elevator Scene." (Make your own jokes if you must, but Bear doesn't wanna hear 'em.)

Sorry, but it's not really that sort of "Hot Christian Fantasy."

While everyone is waiting for their autographed trade paperbacks, check out the many inspiring books EWTN is featuring on their book blog. (Of course, Judging Angels is not there. EWTN hates Bears. And possibly elevators. The Bear wishes to state, however, that rumors that EWTN harvests Bear bile for Chinese traditional medicine have not been conclusively proven.)

Friday, May 19, 2017

Jorge Bergoglio - an Interview With the Bear

Bears have been at this for a very long time.

Some may wonder how the Bear, of all bloggers, scored an interview with  Jorge Bergoglio. Argentina has Bears, although they are a rather miserable species. So here it is. An interview with Jorge Bergoglio of Argentina.

Bear - You may be familiar with normal journalistic practices, where the journalist records nothing, takes no notes, and makes up a lot of stuff. Bears do things differently. By the way, welcome to the Interview Cavern.

Jorge - Thank you. Who are you? Why am I strapped to this chair? Why do you care about me?

Bear - Just a Bear, as you see. The Bear's right paw is resting on lever connected to a mechanism beneath the trap door upon which sits your chair. We call it the... Bear Chair. Yeah, I know. We're working on that.

Jorge - I agree. I do not feel as frightened as I probably should.

Bear - The point is, every time you lie to the Bear, he will pull this lever, and a random number of cogs will slip. When the cog wheel makes one complete revolution, the trap door will open and the chair - with you in it- will drop.

Jorge - This all seems exceedingly complicated for Bears, if I may say so.

Bear - We had help from the Raccoons, who are surprisingly clever at complicated dramatic schemes.

Jorge - But how will you know if I am lying? How will I know when the chair is about to drop? Where does it drop to?

Bear - [Pulls handle.]

Jorge - Wait! I didn't even answer a question!

Bear - An honest man would never have asked. You never know when the trap door will be triggered. But if you tell the truth, then you you have no worries. Bears have the best noses in the animal kingdom. They can smell a female in heat 100 miles away and make a beeline. That's true. And Bears can smell lies. That is also true.

Jorge - Too much information, mi amigo. Listen. Let me out of this chair and I'll tell you - no - give you - anything you want.

Bear - [Pulls handle.] Bribing the Bear. Not getting off to a good start, Jorge. Who knows how many pulls you got left. First question. You're in a desert walking along in the sand when - Oh. Hang on a sec. Wrong questions. Okay. A man gets tired of his wife -

Jorge - Is this the test now?

Bear - Yes. A man gets tired of his wife, who is mature, yet faithful, and divorces her. He marries a younger, more attractive woman and they form a breeding pair. Are they committing adultery?

Jorge - [Looks at Bear's paw on handle] - Si.

Bear - Should they be admitted to Holy Communion as long as they maintain their marital breeding relationship?

Jorge - A very complicated question. While yes, they are committing adultery, this is not the only consideration. Rules are always lubricated with Mercy, much as I am sure your complicated raccoon-devised Bear Chair is lubricated. Therefore, we meet people on the moral periphery of life with arms outstretched, not like museum mummies afraid to dance, afraid to cry afraid of everything. Therefore they may receive a little bread and wine. It does not harm, eh?

Bear - Strangely put, but I do not smell untruthfulness. Is that "little bread and wine" really and truly the Precious Body and Blood of Christ?

Jorge - "Really and truly?" What is the connection between "reality" and "truth?" As you say, a tree falls in the forest but there is no, why, no bear to hear it? Does it make a sound? "Reality" is the fundamental ontological category of which we can say so very much, yet so very little. It presupposes a unified nature of all that is, but that is unproven. "Truth," on one hand, is the multivalent appreciation of the validity for all times and places of certain propositions. It presumes a moral intellect to perceive the truth. But on the other hand, truth is contingent upon experiences and felt needs of each person as we - meaning the Church - accompany them on their journey. When one travels - have you traveled much, Bear?

Bear - You might say Bear has gotten around.

Jorge - One travels, and the landscape remains the same. Yet, one returns over the very same road, always journeying, and we are always accompanying them in mercy. And while the landscape has remained the same, can you say you are on the very same road? Truth is dialogue between the pilgrim and that which is. Whatever it is.

Bear - I'll be damned. I got nothing here. [Moves left paw to previously unseen pull handle by Bear's left ankle.]

Jorge - What is this? You did not explain that handle.

Bear - It's special. Do you believe Jesus Christ is the Son of God and the only means of our redemption through his sacrifice?

Jorge - To be fair, that is two questions.

Bear - Bear will concede the objection. Jesus Christ, his only - come on, you know all this. So what do you say?

Jorge - We are all children, even when we stumble. Jesus himself said children may be caused to stumble, did he not? Is God the Father, or is he only partly the Father? Father to Catholics, but nothing to Lutherans? Maybe even an enemy? If God is not the Father to Muslims, then he must be divided in his nature. Father to a billion and a half Catholics, and yet what is he to the majority that is not Catholic? Father to some humans, yet not Father to the very same humans because they are named Mohammed (peace be upon him) instead of John? Are we not all made in the image of God?

Bear - [Paw on lever twitches.]

Jorge - I believe everything you say and that we all and each participate in that child-ship with our loving Father. Jesus is undeniably our brother. How then can we not have the same Father?

Bear - You're a tough one. Holy Trinity?

Jorge - A coruscating ballet of light and love that is beyond our understanding, but who may accurately be described in terms that are appropriate to the faith traditions dominate in various geographical regions and racial-societal identities.

Bear - What is today's mission of the Church?

Jorge - To accompany those on the periphery such as migrants. To bring chairs to the table when others, who already have their places, say "no!" The gospel - God himself - is understood in different ways in different times. There have been very scholarly periods in Church history, when the intellect has dominated mercy. But we live in different times, when we are called to act! The French have a word for it. Propagande par le fait. The mission of the Church is not to preach at people. Does that fill an empty stomach? Fill the ache of two people trapped in a marriage that has long since died? No!

Bear - Bear thinks that will do it for today. He would like to thank you for participating and being so honest. He did not detect a single lie.

Jorge - So, you will now release me?

-- Ten minutes later --

Bear - [Smoking cigarette outside entrance of Interview Cavern. Another Bear approaches and asks how the interview went.] Jorge's a very honest fellow. Bear was quite impressed. Turn him loose? No. [Sigh.] Bear had to pull the Jesuit Handle. Go? I don't know what's underneath the Interview- Hey, can we get some better names for our stuff? I mean, "Interview Cavern?" "Bear Chair?" It's embarrassing. Anyway, in that instant the trap door was open, Bear would swear he heard laughter. Bear thinks it was - Badgers.

Other Bear - Badgers? That's... [Other Bear shudders.] Hey, can you tell me something? Where do they go if they lie enough and you pull the lever?

Bear - [Laughs.] There's no cogwheel of random doom. The lever isn't connected to anything. We don't care about liars. We give them a nice meal and a plane ticket home. It's the true believers in all that crap he was blathering about that are killing us. Still...

Other Bear - Yeah. Bear knows. Badgers.

Bear - [Heaves deep sigh.] They got it comin' to 'em. That's what Bear keeps telling himself. Besides. He's not absolutely sure they were Badgers.

Other Bear - Yeah. Probably not. Not Badgers. You probably heard... Bear doesn't know. But not... you know. How's it going on getting that other Jorge, you know, the Pope, in your chair? Not the click bait one.

Bear - Oh, Bear crossed him off the list months ago. Do we really need to buy a one-way ticket to prove what he is? Besides. The last place we want him is on a plane with a freaking microphone in his hand.

Monday, May 15, 2017

Death Penalty Is Now a Mortal Sin SUCKA!


Yeah, in your face. It's official.

The death penalty is a mortal sin. Yep. No ifs and or buts. Oh, did I mention the death penalty was a mortal sin? So knock off that murderous bunk and get over it.

Right here in "America," the official magazine of the smartest Churchmen in the world - our POPE is a Jesuit, after all - it says this:

"Pope Francis: the death penalty is a 'mortal sin' and 'inadmissible.'" 

It's not even just a mortal sin but it's legally inadmissible!

Guess Bear was right all along huh? Because POPE FRANCIS said it. Infallibility baby.

Sit on a death penalty jury and vote for the death penalty? Going to Hell. Or you would be, if there was a Hell to go to that people actually went to.

Warden? You're definitely going to Hell.

Guys who push the buttons that that start the lethal injection process? Hell.

Legislators who vote for the death penalty? Hell. Voters who voted for them? Hell.

Judge? Hell. Bailiff? Hell. Court reporter? Maybe Hell - can't be sure.

You know who's not going to Hell? The guys all the people who are going to Hell executed!

Bear? Death Penalty Defense. NOT going to Hell. Prosecutors? You are so going to Hell. Deepest pit.

This will be the argument from now on. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you vote to send my client to the death chamber, you're sentencing yourself to Hell. It's official. But get this. First of all, you're for slavery. So that's strike number one. Then you're committing the mortal sin of death penalty which is so Hell.

"Oh, what was that? Objection, Hell Boy? Judge, did you really sustain that? A Higher Court just sentenced you to Hell. Contempt? Me? That's Hell, too. Sorry, Don't say I didn't tell you. Lucky LaRue the Ice Pick Nursery Killer and I are going to be eating pizza in Heaven, laughing at every last one of you in Hell. And it's going to be deep dish pizza, Chicago, style. As much as we want.

"What are you going to be eating? Hot gravel and washing it down with battery acid. Not as good as pizza, huh? That's why they call it Hell. Mortal sin."

Saturday, May 13, 2017

Contest! Win an Autographed Copy of Bear's Novel!

First public answer wins. The contest last 24 hours. No previous winners please. Identify the above-pictured individual and briefly explain his relevance. That's all! Winner gets a free, autographed copy of the Bear's Book, send nailing addres to:



That didn't take long. Congratulations!

Thursday, May 11, 2017

Someone Had to Say It

The Hound said it. 

Cormac McCarthy was an awful writer.

The Hound and the Bear is a majority in any company. For charity's sake, let's say he was talentless, and no one had the heart to tell him. Critics lavish praise upon him because they lavish praise on anyone that irritate ordinary people.

Bear thinks he was a stylist. He made his own rules because he could, not because he had discovered a better punctuation or grammar. Stylists are fine if, as nature intended, they blow up and we are done with them. When their literary ashes, mixed with dead leaves and bits of bird nests are mucked out of the gutter and preserved for all time like your little darling's kindergarten pictures, then nature as been defeated.

Whenever nature has been defeated, you know what happens.

Mother Nature releases her favorites: the dogged hound and the eviscerating Bear. Here's the Bear's own contribution, although it has been a long time, and it was shunted directly down the incinerator chute in his 450 gm brain.


He could see the highway from where he was both ways. He was on a berm a good high one with a good view. It ran before three cabins each cabin in which was a woman who loved him. He could feel the bubo on the back of his neck like an alka seltzer boil blooming in the sun which was a quarter past. Noon he thought. Maybe a quarter til. He gazed at the sun until he was blind. He would have to shoot the Negroes by sound.

Where he was they could not see him either. The Negroes not the girls who loved him.

It had gotten that bad in what two weeks ago was the good part of town where the only Negro you saw wore a uniform of some sort and not a police one.

The bubo was joined by another right on the end of his nose so he would not get a clear shot anyway. Why did he drink those gin fizz. The size of a golf ball the white kind he could hear the thwack carry from the country club a quarter mile to his left.

In one of the cabins was Consuela bare legs splayed behind her cello. In the next Mitzi a math whiz drawing doodles with long yellow fingers and stubby bits of chalk she hoped would save the world but he knew different. He had to leave the knife of screeching fingernails bleeding him dry from the great vein in his neck.

Gin fizz had egg in them. He was allergic to eggs. Peanut butter too. But he ate the peanut butter sandwiches and drank the gin fizzes with eggs in them anyway. Why. He used the touch readout to consult the Stupidometer he could not see with blistered retinas. He figured as much. The now needle with no color made of iron was buried so far in stupid not a molecule of the gin fizz he had laid down his carbine to pick up could fit between the fixings.

Why drink another gin fizz.

Why not.

Why another bubo on his buttock the right one at least.

Why not. It all made sense at last the gin fizzes the bubos the women the country club and the Negroes. He did not dislike them but it was their mutual nature to lay down with never a getting up. Sunday morning at Bedside Baptist forever.

It could be worse.

No it couldn't.

Because it made no difference although the prettiest of the girls she might have been 17 he told himself that because she was rich and had a rich daddy somewhere far from Negroes and Mexicans in Trumpland. If only he could get them all and the unborn baby but she was a pretty little thing and pretty did not last. Hell three bubos would last longer, outlast them all.

The Americans

Remember the Nice Blogger Who Wrote About
the Americans Sometimes?

Back when life was simpler - i.e. Benedict XVI was Pope, if he still isn't (see?) - we official Catholic bloggers got to gather around the campfire in the clearing and chat about just about anything. One blogger friend, now retired from the game, used to occasionally write about television shows.

The Americans was one of the shows she followed on her blog.

The pilot of this drama about Soviet spies in '80s America hooked us with an extended cut of Fleetwood Mac's pounding TUSK as the score to a chase. It promised to be another excellent television drama in the tradition of Breaking Bad.

Up until the current season, it mostly lived up to that promise, although Bear thinks we could have done with less of Keri Russell and a whole lot less of a certain U.S. Special Forces officer in an alley, an episode that scarred poor Bear for life. He is still afraid of the dark.

The Americans is a good show. But it is neither the same show nor as good as the show promised in the pilot.

Lotus 1-2-3

But while the Bear has kept up with it, this, the penultimate season, has managed to make being a Soviet "illegal" - a fake American and real spy - look as exciting as running a travel agency. (They manage to do that, too.) The episodes have been excruciatingly boring.

Critics love it. Who knows? Maybe the kind of people who write reviews for Slate and HuffPost really know good television, and aren't just getting together in their Che tees and rooting for the Russians once a week.

But the FBI agent who has lived across the street from the spies through five seasons is just comic relief as he blunders through each episode without a clue. By now, no matter how The Americans finally ends, Agent Beeman collaring his friends across the street will seem to come from way out of left field. Whatever tension there is, it does not include the smallest worry our comrades will get caught before the series finale, if then.

Another hilarious character is Keri Russell's current sex-for-info wheat expert in Topeka who is so much like Owen Wilson's perfect ex-boyfriend in Meet the Parents both the Bear and Red Death burst out laughing every time he is on screen doing Tai Chi or making organic soup or saving the world's grain. But the best comic highlight comes when, after Elizabeth's success with her noble and sensitive hunk, Phillip must admit he got dumped by his source.

His time with the affectless Miss Lotus 1-2-3 may have been the only time he actually thought of Mother Russia.

He did score a bootleg copy of that program though. And that is the story of Philip's life. That and guilt over killing some innocent wheat farmer based on bad information from Center. He is not a happy spy, and neither he nor Center trust each other. Elizabeth, on the other hand is a true believer. (Oddly, even Elizabeth sounds less like a communist than the average American leftist of today. Writers would recognize how ridiculous it would sound to have characters actually talk like that.)

Real commies would not be impressed by our special snowflakes.

The Greatest Non-Entertaining Television Drama

Don't get me wrong. The Americans does the whole Serious Drama Thing very well. The exception is the entertainment option. This season had one episode where an inordinate amount of time was spent showing grim Russians digging a deep hole. We drink coffee. We dig. We drink more coffee. And then, we put coffee down, pick up shovel - mama's shovel from beet collective we brought from Soviet Union with us - and dig more.

It really made the Bear appreciate just how boring being a spy could be, by, well you can finish that one.

Now, you can praise it as a taut slow-burn drama, an accurate Polaroid of the 80s, or, for a few seasons, anyway, an artistic study of the nude female-ish form. But entertaining? Look, Bear is BEAR. If there is anyone who would like a Russian spy drama, it would be the national animal of Russia. (And let us not forget the deep debt he owes for last year's rescue from Istanbul by SPETSNAZ.)

Let's put it this way. If a forest fire were this slow-burn, Smokey would turn over and go back into hibernation.

So imagine the Bear's surprise when he actually enjoyed the late-season episode, Dark Room.

The Dramatic Payoff

After nearly a season of setup, we finally get some dramatic payoff. There is nothing wrong with setup. But occasionally, one conflict or another has to erupt. or at least move from potential to manifest, whatever form that may take. People doing stuff is not drama, even with Keri Russell's game face or Matthew Rhys with lava bubbling beneath the surface because he already knows being a Soviet spy sucks, and there is no way this ends well for the people he loves.

Here's an example. Their Viet Cong kid in one of their other families makes a mysterious bus ride to an I-Hop. He gets caught, then explains it away with a lame story. Twenty minutes of just some random screw-up by a high school spy? Or setting up the ultimate downfall of spy fake mom and dad? Who knows?

Love makes an not-entirely unexpected but welcome return in this episode. It is sweet - and completely ruined by the knowledge that "Center" now wants the couple to keep their sexual partners on the hook indefinitely. Operational necessity, or is Center peeling Philip away from Elizabeth  as the weak sister.

But most of all, characters are being forced to realize their work has put them into a "dark room." The episode was very thematic. Relations with their new-old handler could not be chillier. There are reasons to doubt the truth of what they are being told. Having sex with other people all the time and living at least four lives, by Bear's count, is getting old and beginning to interfere with their fake marriage. Complicating matters is Elizabeth sort of falling for idealistic bearded Mr. Tai Chi.

Daughter Paige has her parents' spy genes. This episode holds a mirror to Philip and Elizabeth in a shocking conclusion with their daughter. A conflict over several seasons has been whether to bring the girl into the family business. Philip is against the idea, Elizabeth is for it, Gabriel (the kindly old handler who returned to Russia for reasons unknown) is against it. Paige is a competent teenage mess, but naively imagines her parents are on remarkably heroic missions that must remain unsung.

Bear supposes when you have unlimited time, the temptation is to write setup-setup-setup with multiple plot lines and character arcs in far-flung settings while putting off all your big payoffs.

For awhile, the Bear was thinking that the modern network prestige television series - Breaking Bad, Mad Men, The Americans - had become the ideal vehicle for drama. It had the production values of film, but instead of 90 - 120 minutes, Breaking Bad's "running length" was one day, 23 hours and 23 minutes!

A canvas that big leaves a lot of room for character development, complex plots and details by the truckload. But if you look back (or think back) you realize the best of them are not immune to forgotten plot lines, characters who do not earn their screen time, and the round-and-round of obsessing over the same issues. It's easy to lose focus, I bet, especially if you can do no wrong in the eyes of critics.

We sometimes forget series writers are making it up as they go along over years. The Bear does not believe that the network prestige dramas will replace film or novel as the best vehicles for drama. Its very advantages work against them.

And if you have watched all five seasons of The Americans, congratulations. You have spent two days and four hours according to the website from where you may learn such things.

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

New Rap Hit Def Bear Label: "Mercy Coprophagia" UPDATE

Here is a whole piece. 


Buona sera.

Fomenter of copraphagia.

Rosary counter.

Self-absorbed Promethean Neo-Pelagian.

Museum mummy.

Children afraid to dance, to cry, afraid of everything!


Buona sera.

Fomenter of copraphagia.

Rosary counter.

Self-absorbed Promethean Neo-Pelagian.

Museum mummy.

Children afraid to dance, to cry, afraid of everything!

Little monsters.

Fundamentalist. Fundamentalist! Funda-men-talist!

Creed-reciting parrot-Christians. (Caw!)

Christian bats who prefer the shadows to light.

Rigid. Rigid. Rigid! Ri-gi-dah!

Like lukewarm who are not aware they are naked. (Mixed metaphor, caw!)

They face the people of God with a switch in their hand.

Uh, turn off his mic - turn off his mic - turn off his mic...

(Credit to The Pope Francis Little Book of Insults which has many, many more insults.)

New rap hit on Def Bear label. "Mercy Coprophagia." (Test sample only.)

Monday, May 8, 2017

Church Must Tackle Rigidity

Rigidity in the Church is a huge problem, second only to convincing Pope Francis to come out of hiding.

Friday, May 5, 2017

The Tragedy of Jorge Bergoglio

The Tragedy of Pope Francis

The Bear sees Pope Francis as a tragic figure.

Not just in the way of a man given a great opportunity whose personality defects ruin it for him.

Not even in the way of a man who, in ignorance and arrogance, makes an effective start in tearing down a great institution.

Truth: the Ultimate Weapon

The Bear sees Pope Francis as tragic mainly because the Bear believes that, in his heart, Francis is convinced he is doing the right thing. No one sets out to be the bad guy. But, even more than that, his weapon is the truth, not lies. The truth is the ultimate weapon. That is his real danger.

Lies can be attacked, beaten. The truth, on the other hand, cannot. One must make complicated counterattacks doomed in advance by a thousand qualifications. But of course, we must respect the Holy Father. But of course, we give our intellectual assent to his magisterium. But of course, mercy is one of the chief elements of the Catholic Faith. 

By the time the orthodox defender of the Faith gets to the first "but," both he and his audience are bored and confused. It is a brilliant strategy.

And, of course, it takes a brave Catholic to challenge the Pope of Rome. Most don't have the guts for it. Loyalty to the Pope, absurdly, is placed at the pinnacle of virtue; it is the mark of a good Catholic, greater than all other virtues, and more important even than adherence to the words of Christ.

"Look at My Humility, My Beloved Descamisados!"

Francis came wearing a deceptively slick persona of humility and mercy. It is not easy to fool the more perceptive for long, however. It did not take much time for him to reveal his arrogance and cruelty and disregard for the Catholic Faith.

No sooner had he boasted of his own humility than his actions revealed the Peronist fraud upon the gullible descamisados - "Why, see? I'm just like you!"

No sooner had he spoken of his own mercy than a long, long enemies list slipped from his white garments: bat Christians and capitalists. Jorge Bergoglio was the outsider who finally got to be the ultimate insider.

How did the cardinals elector not see the danger in putting such a man in charge of the Church? The Bear believes that many did, and elected him anyway, because his weaknesses made him a ready tool for their designs. The rest were empty chairs and fools.

The Real Francis Could Have Made a Great Pope

The Bear happens to believe that the Church could use a more merciful tone. The Bear thinks churchman are, for the most part, insufferably arrogant. A genuine Pope Francis, who was really humble, who was really merciful, could have been a wonderful pope. He could have benefited the Church and enriched the lives of Catholics everywhere.

The Bear confesses he is not even much of a traditionalist. Give him morality that is logically in line with what has been believed everywhere at all times, and ritual approaching the competence of a high school chapter of Servants of the Misty Dawn, and the Bear will happy snooze through Father's ridiculous sermons on interfaith every week. 

Instead, Pope Francis is  just another shabby little South American Marxist, seething with resentment over his failed country that must have somehow been sabotaged by those rotten northerners who have gotten rich at his expense. Steal the Malvinas, will they?

Now, Francis has his big chance to show everyone. The Bear wishes it really were more complicated,  more dramatic, more evil, than that. He is a small man who has been given what he sees as unlimited power to solve every problem in the world, from the anguish of divorced and remarried Catholics to the desperation of boat people.

And in his ridiculous, arrogant, tin pot way, that is what he has set out to do.

Short Promoted Comment

Jeanne writes of Judging Angels:

Well, I finished it on Sunday afternoon, having bought it on Saturday morning. It does keep you on your toes, doesn't it ! And I enjoyed it very much. Fun while you're reading, thought-provoking afterwards.

I really am not sorry I once landed on your site, Bear. And it was no coincidence: we once gave our daughter (now 18) a very nice brown Steiff teddy we called « Corbinien », for obvious reasons. Other bears in the family include Edward, Winston, Diogène, Archibald, Oscar and Nestor Prosper de Bear. They are more interested in honey and whisky than in salmon, unfortunately…

Thanks again for a very good read. And please be assured of my prayers for your brother ; I lost my own brother (14 years older than I) to cancer last autumn. So in a way, I know…

Looking forward to the sequel


Thank you so much, Jeanne. Bear is happy you enjoyed it. And reading it in less than 24 hours is pretty impressive, as it comes in at 500 printed pages!

But this old moth-eaten show-Bear fears he will not fit into such impressive ursine company.

If you enjoyed it, the Bear asks a personal favor. If you can leave a 4 or 5 star review at Amazon, please do. It does not have to be a masterpiece, just a few short, plain words. Reviews and ratings are incredibly important to authors, especially a first-timer with an oddball mix of C.S. Lewis and Raymond Chandler.

If anyone does not like it (not everyone likes everything) consider, instead, sending the Bear a quick note so he can make the sequel better.

Again, Jeanne, thanks for the first piece of real fan mail. It is very exciting for Bear. Bear guesses that makes you his... Number 1 Fan? First official book-fan, anyway.

If anyone wants to kidnap Bear, don't worry about tying him down. Just stock up on honey and salmon and he'll be your guest for as long as you want. (Be sure there are plenty of windows in his room for, um, ventilation, if you know what the Bear means. Bear has been told by humans he does not smell very good, which he does not understand since Bears have the best noses in the animal kingdom.)

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Kitty Foyle

The Bear finally got around to watching Gingrrr's Oscar-winning performance in the 1940 dumb-girl-learns-lesson weepie, Kitty Foyle. He must admit the story is not exactly timeless. America was still very class-conscious and a woman's life still revolved around The Man. (No comment.)

Yet Gingrrr delivers an honest and understated performance far removed from defying gravity on white Art Deco sets with Fred Astaire nearly a decade earlier. She even does a scene as a fifteen-year-old, which recalls her unfortunate turn in Monkey Business with Cary Grant. Was it better than Bette Davis in The Letter or Joan Fontaine in Rebecca (the other two nominees for Best Actress)? The Bear thinks so, although she probably got a buff from being in a serious socially-aware picture. Does it set the Best Actress bar or erase the memory of her in dance classics like Swing Time?


There is a reason Gingrrr is remembered for dancing, and not for drama. (Not that she wasn't a wonderful actress - the reason she is so delightful with Astaire is she is acting all the while she's dancing.)

She did define the "Kitty Foyle" style for America.

(Tell the truth. Does the Bear sound gay when he writes about Gingrrr?)

Um... I'm sorry, Bear, but kinda. And stop stalking me.

The writer was none other infamous Commie, Dalton Trumbo. (Hey, if you wanted just another human opinion you would be reading something else.) In the wartime Tender Comrade, Gingrrr walked off the set over what she viewed as the pink filter over Rosie the Riveter. In her autobiography she cites the line "Share and share alike: it's the American way!" as an example of Trumbo's unapologetic Marxist-Leninist agitprop.

She and her mama were real-life two-fisted (four?) Commie-fighters in Hollywood.

The Bear has forgotten what the other thing was. Anyway, there's another new article after this one.

Like Two She-Bears on 42 Little Kids... and the Pope

Pope Francis Reacts to Release of Bear's Novel

First, so has Judging Angels been officially released upon the world. The Bear feels oddly unconcerned, which seems, well, odd. Old habits of the legal profession are urging him to leave the phone number of the bar nearest the courthouse with the bailiff and retire to wait upon the verdict. (Another tradition destroyed by cell phones.)

Yes, that is the secret of why lawyers don't usually show much reaction at the verdict. They're barely conscious, retaining just enough sobriety to ask the court to "pool the jory."

Wait a second. Where has the Bear been the last 24 hours?

(There's another reason. An experienced trial lawyer knows the instant the jury comes out whether his man has been found guilty or innocent. Jurors will not look at someone they have just found guilty.)

Many thanks to the Bear's publisher, who, after spotting a Bear sipping Coca-Cola in Schwab's Drug Store, intuited he might be able to write something. They survived all of Mr. Perfectionist Bear's revisions, too, and are already busy getting news releases published.

More on your Pope

Now, about Pope Francis. The Bear is not finished with his thoughts on the uniqueness if one Jorge Bergoglio, or the unprecedented damage he is doing to the Church, or the many reactions Catholics may have to him.

Once again, the Bear respectfully differs with those who see Francis in terms of other popes throughout history. History ain't what it used to be. For all we know, we may have ushered in the era of "courtesy canonizations." We live in really, really strange times. Just look at our politics. There is a difference not only in quantity, but in quality of public discourse. There has always been yellow journalism. Now we all bleed yellow ink.

The Bear said "the many reactions Catholics may have to him," because there seems to be a continuum. One need look no further than the opinions on the internet.

  1. Pope Francis is the respected successor to St. Peter, and, as such, is due slightly more veneration than was Emperor Hirohito in his day.
  2. Pope Francis may have a wobble in his orbit, but his ordinary magisterium remains just as worthy of respect and assent as any pope's. That's the LAW.  (Query: if the answer is that we need pay attention only as far as he is right, i.e. in line with other popes, then do we have to memorize Denziger, and how do we know those popes were right? Seems a bit over-engineered for a bunch of Galilean fishermen, if you ask the Bear.)
  3. Pope Francis can do no damage to the Church short of infallibly declaring some abomination before the Lord an Article of Faith, which is not going to happen.
  4. Look, you don't have to pay attention to everything the old fellow says. Only the big stuff. (Like homosexuality and divorce?) The Church will be protected by God.
  5. Whatever you think about Pope Francis - and let's admit he's a few steps short of a tango - he remains THE POPE. Whom one must NEVER criticize. (Paging Michael Voris.)
  6. Entertain your private doubts, if you must, but you're in danger of heresy, and in any case must never, ever criticize him for fear of starting up the Know Nothings again.
  7. Rome, we have a problem. Prudence and good taste dictate, however, that we do not speak of il Papa's delicate condition.
  8. We have never quite seen anything like Jorge Bergoglio's disconnect with the deposit of the Faith nor his willingness to perform end runs around around the Church itself via incessant media exposure. The man is a menace.
  9. No REAL pope would spout half the nonsense he does. Pope Benedict is still at the wheel and Bergoglio is flat out an antipope.
  10. No REAL CHURCH would ever elect someone as evil as Jorge Bergoglio, so he is Exhibit A in the case for sedevacantism.
  11. Jorge Bergoglio is nothing less than Damien in his old age. He is evil. In fact, he is at the very least the FALSE PROPHET. In other words, a cosmic player in the end times.
  12. We had a good run, but the warranty has expired on the Church. Time to become one of those Protestants that get salmon and honey while the praise band is warming up. (Do not tempt Bear.)
The Bear submits that everyone reading this blog is somewhere along this continuum. 

Report your number, should you feel brave.

There is another position to take, one that may be closest to that of the Bear. Life is short. There is not much excuse for getting any of the Really Big Questions wrong. We could do worse by whistling past the pontificate of the eccentric gentleman from Argentina and keeping our fingers crossed that someone with less ambition to change the Church than Martin Luther gets to be pope next time. (Outh-say Mera-kay is a no-no.)

In other words, we're pretty sure committing adultery is really wrong, and you must still be in a state of grace to receive Holy Communion, and Sodom did not get God's Lifestyle Seal of Approval for 3123 B.C. Some things are best left to God while we muddle along the best we can in our day-to-day lives even if it appears that the wheels are coming off the Barque of Peter. (Yeah, the Bear said that on purpose.)

In terms of logic, the sedevacantists would seem to have the best case, as their position neatly solves most apparent problems. (Factually may be another matter, but in any case, that's a plump horse of another color.)

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Judging Angels Chapter 1 Read by Author

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