Synod of empty words



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Sometimes I think that the real purpose of doing without Latin in the life of the Church, not just in the liturgy, is that, as a language “fixed” by history, unalterable, it lends itself badly to it. imprecision and hollow quackery, and of which we have in abundance in clerical circles, even the highest.

Confucius said that the first step in restoring good government is to carefully define the meaning of the words. And never, as at that time, one does not realize the wisdom of the Chinese philosopher in this affirmation: try, if you do not believe me, to translate in normal words, understandable for a child of ten or twelve years, half slogans.

I have in front of me the Preparatory Document for the XVI Ordinary General Assembly of the Synod of Bishops, you know, the Synod on Synods, more precisely the Vademecum sent to the bishops to prepare it, and I wonder if the Church of Christ, in this empty language more typical of an electoral program or a marketing course than of a pastor.

The first thing that we notice, in addition to what has been said, is the emphasis on new things. Apart from the absolute newness that is Christ, who represents the New Covenant, the Church, throughout history, has never colored the idea of ​​change by itself in a positive tone. Because, obviously, there is nothing intrinsically positive in the change or in the new, which can be for the worse as for the better, and it is especially bad for a doctrine which claims to be permanent, timeless. Rather, it is the catchphrase in commercial advertising; “New” is after “free” the most popular word in an advertising campaign.

The blur reaches insulting limits. It is understood that sentences like “If anyone says that these sacraments were instituted for the sole purpose of nourishing the faith, let him be anathema” can be “rigid”, but they have the enormous advantage of saying something. perfectly concrete, something that is against what is not. It is, defined and clear. But what does “synods are a time to dream and spend time with the future” mean? All. Absolutely nothing. Or, better, what we want it to mean.

The verb “to dream”, so popular with Francisco, is deeply polysemous and clearly indicates that realities are not taken into account. We dream what does not exist, not to mention that a nightmare is a form of dream. Who wants a Church that depends on what its pastors “dream together”? How reliable is what comes out of a shared (metaphorical) dream? I don’t want to know what my prelates are dreaming of; I want them to give me the Word of God, from Scripture and Tradition. Personal dreams are irrelevant, even more so when what is at stake is the Truth.

And what about “spending time with the future?” The future literally does not exist. There is even less than the past which, if it has remained, has left its mark, made us what we are. There’s a reason all dishonest politicians constantly refer to the future, because you can paint any color you prefer, and why futurists and anticipatory novelists invariably get it wrong.

And everything is like that: dialogue, novelty, listening, innovative look (sic), change: words that must be filled with specific content and that can be anyone. I can dialogue with evil as well as with good; I can listen carefully to the worst mistakes or the craziest ideas as much as I can listen to the Word of God; so new is that the Church is dissolving like anything else. None of these words correspond to concrete things.

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