A SERMON FOR THE 16th SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST
The
author Charles Dickens has given the world a large number of memorable
characters. One of the most instantly
recognizable—and dislikeable—personalities is the character Uriah Heep. This loathsome figure from the novel David Copperfield is the epitome of
greed, avarice and ambition, but he hides these vices behind a cloak of
affected humility, or “‘umbleness” as he calls it. In an attempt to distract us from his real
agenda which is to gain control over his master’s fortune, the obsequious
servant continually seeks to divert our attention to his own ‘umbleness, bowing
and scraping with affected self-effacement.
Uriah
Heep has become synonymous with false humility, and this Sunday’s Gospel gives
us the opportunity to examine this unpleasant pitfall in the spiritual life.
In
his parable of the wedding feast Christ provides us with the key to knowing the
difference between pride and humility.
You’ll find this key in the words “Whosoever exalteth himself shall be
humbled.” To be even more specific, the key word is “himself”. If someone else exalts you, that’s okay. But if you exalt yourself it isn’t. In other words, there are times in our life when
we are called upon to receive honors, or accolades of praise, and there is
nothing wrong with accepting them, providing, of course, that we do so with
true humility. But if we let the praise
and honor go to our head, this is when we are still in danger of falling into
the sin of pride. Or if we seek the
honor for its own sake, again we are exalting ourselves and guilty of pride. It's not a bad thing to compete with others if
it's for the sake of improving ourselves, or so that we might bring honor to
the team or country we represent. It's even
okay to compete for financial or other gain.
But we should never compete so that we may receive the honor and
adulation of others.
If
we look at the history of the Catholic Church we will find two excellent
examples of true humility and false humility.
The first example is that of a man who was deathly afraid of the honors he
was about to receive, knowing full well the terrible responsibility and dangers
that would come with those honors. His
name was Giuseppe Sarto, and he was the Patriarch of Venice. When Pope Leo XIII died in 1903, Cardinal
Sarto was summoned to Rome along with all the other cardinals of the Church,
there to elect a successor to the Pope. The
Breviary tells us that “When the votes
of the College of Cardinals began to increase in his favour, he tried in vain
with supplications and tears to be relieved of so heavy a burden.” But the
cardinals were so moved by his sincerity that he received even more votes,
ensuring his election as pope. As the
college of cardinals turned to him with the traditional formality requesting
him to accept the papacy, Cardinal Sarto was horrified and at first could not
bring himself to accept the papacy, withdrawing to pray in anguish, like our
Lord in Gethsemane, that this chalice may be taken from him. Finally, the other cardinals persuaded him that
his election was the will of God, and, in the words of the Breviary he “ceded to their persuasions, saying I accept
the cross. Thus he accepted the crown of the supreme pontificate as a
cross, offering himself to God, with a resigned but stedfast spirit.” These words I have just read are taken from
the lessons of Matins on his feastday.
And yes, this humble cardinal does have a feastday, because he went on
to become not only a great pope, but a great saint. He took the name of Pope Pius X, and defended
the Church against the modernism that was already attacking her at the
beginning of the 20th century.
The Breviary goes on to describe his papacy in these terms: “Placed
upon the chair of Peter, he gave up nothing of his former way of life. He
shone especially in humility, simplicity and poverty, so that he was able to
write in his last testament: I was born in poverty, I lived in poverty, and I
wish to die in poverty. His humility, however, nourished his soul with
strength, when it concerned the glory of God, the liberty of Holy Church, and
the salvation of souls.” Did St. Pius X
refuse the trappings of the papacy, the tiara, the sedia gestatoria, the solemn
Masses and so on? No, he accepted them
all with humility, recognizing that it is the high and exalted office that he
holds which is being honored, not his own person. Try and imagine what a truly humbling and mortifying experience it would
be if we ourselves were carried around on the sedia gestatoria and treated with
all the pomp and ritual of a solemn papal ceremony, horribly aware all the time
of our own sins and unworthiness before God.
A hundred years after the death of St. Pius
X, the modernist onslaught against the Church that he fought so hard to repel
has succeeded in taking over the Church’s hierarchy and institutions. And yet, the supposed successor of St. Pius X
is also admired by the world for his humility.
They have come to associate the word "humble" with Pope
Francis just as routinely as we associate the word "crooked" with
Hilary. But are they right in his case? Is his humility real, or merely a masquerade?
The history of Jorge Bergoglio tells a far
different story from the image he has tried to portray since reaching his goal
of becoming pope. In the papal election
that brought us Benedict XVI, Bergoglio came in as runner-up, and was
determined that the next time he wouldn't lose.
He carefully positioned himself for the top job in the Church, wooing
other cardinals, seeking out photo-ops, interviews with the media, as if he
were running in a presidential primary.
His ambition was as transparent as it was inappropriate. On being elected, he instantly made headlines
by doing away with one papal tradition after another. Stepping out on to the balcony of St. Peter’s
after his election he refused, for example, to stand on the elevated platform
reserved for him, saying “I’ll stay down here,” rejecting the ermine robe that
popes traditionally wear for their first appearance before the faithful in St.
Peter's Square. Not a big thing perhaps,
but indicative of his long-thought-out agenda of making himself appear
"humble and holy" while at the same time lowering the respect due to
the office of pope. The media were quick
to push this image of the world's latest celebrity, and the people were taken
in, quickly becoming blissfully convinced of his humility as he returned to his
hotel to pay his own bill, driving himself around the Vatican in his Ford
Focus, refusing the red papal shoes, and moving out of the papal apartments
because they are too good for him, a poor ‘umble man.
Faced with this barrage of public relations
propaganda from Rome and the media, we might even be tempted at times to
believe this constant spectacle of unbridled “humility”. But when
a man promotes his own image to the detriment of the office he holds, this is not
true humility, but a sham. When a man seeks
to destroy God's Church even as he prepares the world for his own canonization,
when he believes his plan is better than God’s, when he rejects two thousand
years of the tradition he was elected to preserve and pass on, in favor of
promoting one measure after the other to annihilate the last traditions Rome
may have clung to, we can clearly see the difference between this modern Uriah
Heep and the saintly Pope Pius X.
Since the time of our Lord, the Church preserved
the dignity of the papal office so that it was held in reverence throughout the
world. People genuflected when a pope
walked into the room, because he was the Vicar of Christ on earth. Bergoglio arrogantly believes that the
reverence is for his own personality, not the office he holds,, and so cannot
abide to have people fuss over him, making the childish mistake that it really
is “him” they are fussing over, and not the God he is supposed to be
representing. Even some of the modernist
faithful have begun to see through his unctuous displays of humility. I read an article this week published in a conservative
Novus Ordo publication pointing out Francis's big show of motioning for a room
full of prelates to sit down as he entered the room. The article described this as "very telling", going to
suggest that " someone needs to inform His Holiness: “They're not
standing up for you, Holiness; they're standing out of respect for your
august office.” Does this man know the difference? On the
other hand," continues the author, "I'm left with the
distinct impression that if his subordinates had not risen at his
entrance, Francis would have been the first to read them the
riot act. It's the "Oh, no, no. Please. I'm humble" moment that this
pope seems to really enjoy."
All these signs of respect and trappings of
dignity are an important part of the reverence owed to the Vicar of Christ,
which Francis claims to be. But we must
take note that Francis’ contempt for his own office goes well beyond getting
rid of superficialities like red shoes and ostrich feathers. These well publicized displays of humility
are not just to make himself look
holy. His ultimate goal is the complete democratization of the Church and the
replacement of the papal monarchy with the more collegiate idea that the pope
is merely the first among equals. He
fully intends to ensure that the powers of the pope are abolished so that he can
herald in a new era for the Church in which the masonic ideal of “Equality”
reigns supreme, and the throne of Peter will be reduced to just one more office
chair at the discussion table.
We must await the intervention of God to set
aside this poor creature and command him to make way for a truly virtuous and
worthy successor of Peter. Until then,
we are doomed to watch in silent horror as Francis continues to belittle the
office of the papacy to the applause of the multitude, all the while promoting
his own personal and completely anti-Catholic agenda with one carefully crafted
photo-op after another. It's frustrating,
I know, but that intervention from God will surely come one day, as Christ
himself promised that he would not abandon his Church. In today's bulletin you will find the Prayer
of Restoration that our Guild of St. Peter ad Vincula asks all its members,
priests and oblates, to recite daily, asking God to commit the government of his
Church once more unto a worthy Vicar of his Son. When we witness the latest prideful offence
against God by Pope Francis, we should say this prayer for the Church. I'm sure we'll have plenty of opportunities.
We must remember that prayer and our own
humility are our only weapons in this latest war waged by the devil against God
and his Church. The devil’s henchman may
wear a white cassock these days, but it is the same Lucifer who imagines that
he can do things better than God, that his beliefs are superior to those taught
by the Church for two thousand years. The
same Lucifer who beheld the universe God had created and the redemption he had
planned, and, instead of accepting his own role in this plan uttered the
fateful words Non serviam—“I will not
serve.” Let our battle cry be that of
St. Michael, “Who is like unto God,” and let us be very aware in that battle,
that just as Pope Francis is certainly not like unto God, neither are we. We too are sinful creatures, the only
difference being that we have cooperated with the graces God gave us to remain
faithful to the true Church. Without
God’s help in the form of the Blessed Sacrament, we would be in the same
position as Francis and the rest of our poor brethren in the conciliar Church,
no longer able to appreciate the truths of our faith and the beauty of our
worship.
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