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From Gloria TV:


Cardinal Caffarra “Suffered Terribly” Because of Pope Francis

An unnamed ex-journalist who is a Catholic, writes on Marco Tosatti's blog (January 6) that the late Cardinal Carlo Caffarra, one of the four Dubia cardinals, “suffered terribly” because Pope Francis had not deemed him worthy of an answer.

The ex-journalist adds, “The light-headed Bergoglio, who makes phone-calls to the right and to the left, who gives interviews like an actor, who appears at the birthdays of prelates close to him, who does not hesitate to take pen and paper in order to punish Cardinal Robert Sarah, never found half-an-hour to speak with a man who was held in the highest regard by John Paul II and Benedict XVI.”

When Francis visited Carpi in April 2017, Francis embraced Caffarra in front of the photographers. The ex-journalist writes, “With pain Caffarra told me that the Pope escaped him all day: he had cunningly limited himself to this photo.”

The ex-journalist comments, “How difficult it is to love your neighbour when he is close, and how easy it is to love the migrants, the foreigners from afar, when chatting from a balcony or pontificating on a plane!"


Quote:I'm reminded of this, from a review of Dr. Thomas Fleming's "The Morality of Everyday Life: Rediscovering an Ancient Alternative to the Liberal Tradition ":


Quote:I remember sitting in the garden of the Hotel Euro in Mostar, a place which was reserved, at the time, for the Masters of the Universe - you knew this because of the armored cars parked out front—listening to some American state department official expounding on his role as a “peacekeeper” to the people sitting at his table and anyone in the immediate vicinity who was unfortunate enough not to be able to ignore him. The conversation began with a discussion of which political groups the Americans were going to promote in the New Multi-Culti Bosnia, which at the time looked pretty shabby because of the recent civil war. I remember one high-rise apartment building not far from the Neredva River, one of the most beautiful rivers in the world, which seemed to be leaking sofa stuffing as the result of taking one too many artillery hits. Our Master of the Universe was not going to promote Group X because they had a bust of Ante Pavelic, former head of the Ustashe, in their headquarters. I never got around to hearing just who he was going to promote, probably because he didn’t know himself, but also because the topic of conversation suddenly changed.

Suddenly the Master of the Universe was talking about his grown daughter and his rocky relationship with her—which, it seemed, was going from bad to worse. And why? Well, because she never got over the fact that the Master of the Universe who was going to bring peace to Bosnia and resolve centuries of ethnic conflict in the region had divorced her mother, which is to say, his wife. The daughter was portrayed as having some sort of psychological hang-up in this regard, as if an attachment to her mother’s interests and the fact that her father had violated them were something like a bad case of bulimia, which she had acquired while away at college. The same man, in other words, who, we assume, could not control his passions, the same man who could not keep his family together, the same man who could not honor his marriage vows and who could not reason with his daughter, was going to bring peace to the Balkans. Aristotle would have had a good laugh over that one...

...The ancient Greek word for jerk is “hero,” and, as Fleming tells us, “The hero’s dilemma is portrayed starkly in the case of Agamemnon, Homer’s ‘lord of men,’ who could not launch his divinely sanctioned expedition against Troy until he had first sacrificed his daughter.” Euripedes could have been describing the U.S. Department of State as its minions descended on Bosnia to spread “democracy” as they define it, or the same sort of people spreading feminism in conquered Iraq and Afghanistan. “To be truly heroic, it seems, one may have also to be a monster.”

In his history of morals, Fleming cites novelists and playwrights more approvingly than philosophers, because the novelists are experts at particular responsibility. They describe a moral order that is rooted in the circumstances of everyday life and not in some utopian idea, based more often than not on a misunderstanding of physics. The idea morals are at root a kind of physics is not a new idea; nor is the idea that a state can be based on that principle new. Fleming sees in the ancient sophists, “the progenitors of the modern philosophers who legislate for the world without settling their own affairs in order.” It takes a novelist like Dickens, however, to come up with a character like Mrs. Jellyby in Bleak House, “whose eyes—so farsighted that ‘they could see nothing nearer than Africa’—overlook the needs of her own children, friends and neighbors.”

Fleming brings up a fact which Nietzsche, a classics scholar in his own right, understood well. What the Ancients called vice, the moderns call virtue. Those who reserve their “moral energies for vast undertakings and foreign affairs and refuse to waste them on spouses or friends or neighbors” have turned the moral order upside down, because the moral order is based on particular obligations radiating out in widening circles of decreasing obligation and emotional intensity, not vice versa. Man, Fleming points out, following Aristotle “is a zoon politikon, a creature framed to live in society, and if he thinks he can transcend the ordinary civilities of family, neighborhood and nation, he may turn out to be that ‘tribeless, lawless, hearthless man’ denounced by Homer.”

Since we are dealing with the most basic premises of human nature here, the order of charity did not change with the coming of Christ. Grace perfects nature; it does not destroy it. Nature remains the same, and the nature of moral obligation as a result always proceeds outward with decreasing intensity and obligation through all of the institutions of social life, which is to say oikos, ethnos, and polis - family, Volk, and state. “Since one cannot help everyone,” remarked Augustine in De Doctrina Christiana, “one has to be concerned with those who by reason of place, time or circumstances, are by some chance more tightly bound to you.” Fleming traces the same classical line of thinking from Augustine to St. Thomas Aquinas, who “makes it clear that charity is owed first to those who are closest to God and second to those who are closest to us by nature. He goes so far as to say that we are bound to love those connected to us more than we love those who are better.”...

...The Catholic Church, which refers to this idea as the principle of subsidiarity, is the only institution left in the modern world which has preserved the idea of the primacy of particular loyalty: “The most successful effort” in explaining the concept of subsidiarity, according to which the higher should not do for the lower what the lower can do for itself, “was the Catholic response put forward by Popes Pius IX and Leo XIII, who defended a hierarchical social order that emphasized the importance of rooted institutions such as the family, the community and the nation.” This position, “summed up in the word subsidiarity,” reminds us that our first obligation is to those closest to us.
I don’t doubt it. Pope Francis will have to answer for the suffering he has (apparently) needlessly inflicted.