"As woman endures, human life either stands or collapses. Where woman is reduced to an object of pleasure, natural instincts and the life of the senses prevail; but when woman imitates the delicacy and modesty of Mary, true culture and human dignity flourish. When woman loses her delicacy, her modesty, her self-esteem, man loses his respect for her, and the ruin of society begins."
✨ Bishop Tihamér Tóth
📖 The Virgin Mary
- PRAYER:
O most glorious Virgin, chosen by the eternal Council to be the Mother of the divine Word incarnate, treasurer of divine graces, and advocate of sinners: I, the most unworthy of your servants, have recourse to you, so that you may deign to be my guide and my counsel in this valley of tears. Obtain for me, through the most precious blood of your Son, the forgiveness of my sins, the salvation of my soul, and the means necessary to achieve it. Obtain for Holy Church triumph over her enemies and the expansion of the Kingdom of Jesus Christ throughout the world. Amen.
(500-day indulgence. Prayer taken from the booklet: Manual of the Heart of Jesus, 1951.)
The church is not an inn of affection, but the threshold of eternal judgment
⸻
I. THE MODERN DOGMA OF INCLUSION
There are phrases that, because they are endearing, become dangerous. “There is room in this Church for everyone,” it is said with a sweet vinegar smile, like someone offering peace in exchange for doctrine, or mercy without the price of conversion. It is a phrase that sounds like the gospel, but it is not. Or rather, it is an apocryphal gospel: good news for ears tired of the cross, but not for souls seeking to be saved.
Because no, not everyone fits in the Truth, and this is not an arbitrary exclusion, but an affirmation of reality. The Truth is not an elastic room where all ideas can be accommodated, nor a democratic dining room where everyone brings their spiritual recipe. The Truth is a Person—Jesus Christ—and only those who convert enter. Not those who accommodate, not those who assert themselves, not those who demand to fit in without giving up.
The Church is universal, but not relativist. Catholic, but not chaotic. It embraces all who wish to cease to be what they were without Christ. It does not accept conditions: only souls who, falling, cry out to be lifted up. But today, as if we were on a television set, the Church is intended to be the stage for reconciliations without tears, weddings without sacraments, blessings without obedience, and heavens without hell.
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II. FEELING WITHOUT JUDGMENT: THE CULT OF EMOTION
The modern soul does not seek to be redeemed: it seeks to be validated. It does not want to hear: "your sins are forgiven," but: "your sins are not sins." It is an emotional liturgy, where conscience is replaced by consent, and fraternal correction is confused with symbolic violence. If you tell it the truth, it is offended. If you offer it a cross, it demands a sofa.
And so we have created a "pastoral ministry of welcome" where welcoming is synonymous with surrender, and tenderness has become the sacramental form of surrender. But charity without truth is the cruelest of lies, and tenderness without form is the mother of disorder.
Saint Thomas taught that truth is adaequatio rei et intellectus: the adequacy of the mind to the thing. Postmodern sentimentalism, however, demands the opposite: that the thing be adapted to the emotion of the moment. And so we have replaced the Logos with the like, doctrine with empathy, and penitence with applause.
⸻
III. THE CHURCH AS A HOSPITAL FOR SOULS, NOT AS A HOSPITAL FOR ERROR
The analogy we like to repeat—and which is true in itself—is that the Church is a hospital. But not a hospital like those of today, where the patient imposes the diagnosis. It is not a spiritual self-help clinic. It is rather a field hospital under the banner of the cross, where the doctor is Christ, and the treatment is grace, not tolerance.
The Church welcomes those who arrive broken, but heals them with the surgery of truth, not with a compassionate pat on the back. The wounded are welcomed, but their wound is not flattered. For if the leper is told that leprosy is part of his identity, he is denied the cure and condemned with sweet words.
And there are those who quote "come to me, all of you," as if Christ had said: "and remain as you are." But they forget that after the embrace comes the imperative: "Go, and sin no more." The Church is not a place where all doctrines fit: it is where false doctrines die, burned by the light of faith.
⸻
IV. THE CHURCH DOESN'T EXCLUDE PEOPLE, IT EXCLUDES LIES
Whoever says the Church excludes has not understood its heart. The Church does not exclude anyone because of their history, their wounds, their sin, their past. But it does reject heresies, errors, and pacts with lies.
The confusion arises when one believes that every idea has the right to citizenship in the Catholic soul. But the Church is not a marketplace of opinions: it is the custodian of a sacred deposit. It does not administer consensus; it guards mysteries. It does not debate its identity: it proclaims it.
Therefore, not all ideas fit into the Church, just as not all poisons fit into a healthy body. It is not that dialogue is denied: it is that the truth is denied as a matter of opinion. There is a difference between evangelizing and negotiating.
⸻
V. A MOTHER WHO CORRECTS, A TEACHER WHO TEACHES
The image of the Church as a mother is true, but dangerous if separated from the other: that of a teacher. Because a mother who only embraces, but does not teach, raises orphans of the soul. And a teacher who does not correct, perpetuates error.
Mary is the Mother of Mercy, yes, but she is also the Seat of Wisdom. And her tenderness is full of clarity, and her sweetness does not adulterate the truth. Does a mother who sees her son walking toward the abyss remain silent for fear of hurting him?
The Church is sweet as the song of the Magnificat, but sharp as the words of John the Baptist. She is the cradle of converts and the executioner of idols. She is the mother of repentant sinners and the sworn enemy of justified sin.
⸻
VI. ALL ARE CALLED, NOT ALL RESPONSE
Christ died for all, yes. But not all want to live for Him. Christ's blood was shed for all, but not all desire to be washed clean. And here lies the modern tragedy: God's love is expected to be effective without freedom, and salvation is automatic without struggle.
God wants all to be saved, but He saves no one by force. And the Church, His bride, cannot lie to the world by telling it that it is already saved, without repentance or conversion. True inclusion does not mean allowing everything, but calling everyone to the Truth, whatever the cost.
⸻
VII. IN THE CHURCH, THERE IS NO PLACE FOR WHAT CONTRADICTS THE TRUTH
There is no place here for sentimentalisms that deny reason, nor for emotions that canonize error. There is no place for justified sins, nor for ideologies disguised as compassion. There is no place for those who believe that to love is to silence, or that to teach is to exclude.
Because the Church cannot contradict itself. And Truth cannot be denied without ceasing to be. Here comes the firmest principle of all philosophy, proclaimed by Aristotle: "It is impossible for something to be and not to be at the same time and under the same consideration." The same doctrine cannot be true and false. The same conduct cannot be virtue and sin. The same teaching cannot be Catholic and heretical.
And if this is true for logic, how much more so for faith, which touches the eternal? The Church cannot teach that what was sin yesterday is virtue today. She cannot declare blessed what God has called disorder. She cannot call pastoral care what is, strictly speaking, a betrayal of the Gospel.
The Church is not here to adapt, but to faithfully proclaim the Truth that does not contradict itself, that does not change with the winds of the century, that does not become flexible so as not to cause discomfort. Christ died for all, yes. But not all want to live for Him. Christ's blood was shed for all, but not all desire to be washed clean. And here lies the modern tragedy: God's love is expected to be effective without freedom, and salvation is automatic without struggle.
God wants all to be saved, but He saves no one by force. And the Church, His bride, cannot lie to the world by telling it that it is already saved, without repentance or conversion. True inclusion does not mean allowing everything, but calling everyone to the Truth, whatever the cost.
⸻
VII. IN THE CHURCH, THERE IS NO PLACE FOR WHAT CONTRADICTS THE TRUTH
There is no place here for sentimentalisms that deny reason, nor for emotions that canonize error. There is no place for justified sins, nor for ideologies disguised as compassion. There is no place for those who believe that to love is to silence, or that to teach is to exclude.
Because the Church cannot contradict itself. And Truth cannot be denied without ceasing to be. Here comes the firmest principle of all philosophy, proclaimed by Aristotle: "It is impossible for something to be and not to be at the same time and under the same consideration." The same doctrine cannot be true and false. The same conduct cannot be virtue and sin. The same teaching cannot be Catholic and heretical.
And if this is true for logic, how much more so for faith, which touches the eternal? The Church cannot teach that what was sin yesterday is virtue today. She cannot declare blessed what God has called disorder. She cannot call pastoral care what is, strictly speaking, a betrayal of the Gospel.
The Church is not here to adapt, but to faithfully proclaim the Truth that does not contradict itself, that does not change with the winds of the century, that does not become flexible so as not to cause discomfort. She is a mother, yes, but a mother who forms. And she is a mother precisely because she teaches.
Therefore, not all ideas fit here. Not all spirits fit here. There is no room here for the logic of the world. Because there is no room here for anything that contradicts the Incarnate Word.
The door is open to all people, but closed to error. The Church does not exclude people, but it does reject everything that denies the Logos, because in Him is the truth, and outside of Him there is only confusion, contradiction, and death.
Yes, in this Church there is room for all...
all those who humbly seek the truth that saves, not the truth that flatters; the truth that burns, not the truth that lulls.
Because in this Church there is no room for all voices,
but there is room for all hearts that surrender to the one Word.
OMO
Pope Francis died this Monday at the age of 88, according to Cardinal Kevin Joseph Farrell, Vatican Camerlengo.
April 21, 2025 10:03 AM
(InfoCatólica) Pope Francis died this Monday at the age of 88, according to Cardinal Kevin Joseph Farrell, Vatican Camerlengo. The Holy See made the announcement at 9:52 a.m. with a statement:
"A short time ago, His Eminence Cardinal Farrell sadly announced the death of Pope Francis, with these words: 'Dear brothers and sisters, with profound sorrow I must announce the passing of our Holy Father Francis. At 7:35 a.m. this morning, the Bishop of Rome, Francis, returned to the Father's house. His entire life was dedicated to the service of the Lord and his Church.' He taught us to live the values of the Gospel with fidelity, courage, and universal love, especially for the poorest and most marginalized. With immense gratitude for his example as a true disciple of the Lord Jesus, we entrust the soul of Pope Francis to the infinitely merciful love of the Triune God.
Francis, who left the hospital on March 28 after a long 37-day stay due to pneumonia, appeared in public for the last time yesterday, Sunday, in St. Peter's Square to give the traditional Urbi et Orbi blessing.
Sede vacante
From this moment on, the See is vacant, and will remain so until his successor is elected in the next conclave.
The procedure for confirming his death began with the traditional rite performed by the Camerlengo, who pronounced the Pope's baptismal name three times. In the absence of a response, his death was officially declared. As tradition the Fisherman's Ring, a symbol of papal authority, was destroyed in the presence of witnesses to prevent any misuse. Furthermore, the papal apartment has been sealed in accordance with current canonical regulations, and the formal process of organizing the funeral has begun.
The funeral ceremonies will follow the provisions revised in the second edition of the Ordo Exsequiarum Romani Pontificis, reforms initiated by Pope Francis himself during his pontificate. The body will lie in state in St. Peter's Basilica for three days so the faithful can pay their respects, abandoning the traditional raised coffin used in previous papal funerals.
Pope Francis will be buried in a single wooden coffin, breaking with the custom of three successive coffins of cypress, lead, and walnut used for the deaths of Popes. His wish, expressed during his lifetime, is to be buried in the Basilica of St. Mary Major, a place he visited every time he made an apostolic journey.
The requiem Mass will be presided over by the Dean of the College of Cardinals and is expected to be attended by political leaders, international dignitaries, and representatives of various religious denominations.
After the funeral, Novemdiales will be celebrated, nine consecutive days of Masses in St. Peter's Basilica. These celebrations, presided over by various cardinals, are intended to pray for the soul of the pontiff and spiritually prepare the Church for the upcoming conclave.
Role of the Camerlengo and Temporal Government of the Church
During the period of sede vacante, the College of Cardinals assumes responsibility for the temporal government of the Church, albeit with limited powers. The Camerlengo will be responsible for the temporal government of the Church, albeit with limited powers. The Camerlengo will be responsible for administering the ordinary affairs of the Vatican, managing day-to-day functions without making decisions that could compromise the authority of the next pontiff. No doctrinal decisions will be made or major appointments made until the new Pope is elected.
The prefects of the Vatican dicasteries automatically cease their functions upon the death of the pontiff, except for the Major Penitentiary, who will continue to serve to address matters related to the absolution of grave sins until the election of the new leader of the Catholic Church.
This concludes the note.
__________________________
Let us pray for the Pope.
______________________
The soul that reveals itself as Judas… and doesn't flee
—Lord…
last night we dined with you.
We sang the psalm.
And your eyes were raised to heaven with tenderness.
You broke the Bread…
and looked at us as if we were still worthy.
But I already had the dagger sheathed in my soul.
It wasn't made of metal,
but of indifference,
of cowardice,
of hidden loves stronger than yours.
—Lord…
I was Judas.
Not with scandal.
But with feigned fidelity.
With Mass and sin.
With just words and a double heart.
And today,
when I wake up,
I discover that the kiss is still on my lips.
—I sold you.
Not for thirty coins,
but for peace with the world.
So as not to inconvenience.
For not loving you to the point of blood.
And you...
you looked at me.
Not with reproach.
With that meekness
that breaks more than judgment.
With that purity
that accuses without a voice.
And you said:
"Friend..."
and that was worse.
For there is no pain deeper
than receiving love
when Love itself has been wounded.
I was Judas, Lord.
And yet you did not push me away.
You did not call the angels.
You did not invoke the Father.
You only allowed
yourself to be seized
like a meek Lamb.
And I trembled.
"Lord...
I do not deserve to look at you.
I do not deserve your Passion.
I do not deserve your Name.
And yet you wait for me?
"
[Christ responds]
"You turned your back on me,
but I have waited for you head on."
You sold me,
but I have paid for you with my Blood.
You called me "Master" without faith,
but I have called you "friend"…
and I have not withdrawn the word.
Don't you see, my soul,
that in that kiss you gave me
I placed all the warmth of my eternal Love?
Don't you understand yet
that I did not come to save innocents,
but to rescue traitors?
I did not defend myself when you handed me over.
I did not hide when you pretended.
No…
I stayed.
And for you
I was led like a dumb lamb to the slaughter.
Don't explain.
Don't make excuses.
Don't dissemble.
Just give me your wound.
I will heal it with nails.
I will wash it with Blood.
I will clothe it in my seamless tunic.
I will make your betrayal
my throne in my soul.
Come.
Not as one who begs for forgiveness,
but like the thief crucified at my right hand,
who only said:
"Remember me..."
and was already mine.
Because even after the kiss,
I have loved you more.
Tertullian*: “…we take scrupulously care that nothing from the chalice or the bread may fall to the ground.”
Saint Hippolytus: “…each one be careful… that no fragment falls and is lost, because it is the Body of Christ that must be eaten by the faithful and not despised.”
Origen*: “With what caution and veneration, when you receive the Body of the Lord, you preserve it, so that nothing falls or anything of the consecrated gift is lost.”
Saint Cyril: “…receive it, taking care that nothing of it is lost, for tell me: if someone were to give you some gold filings, would you not guard them with all diligence, trying not to lose any of them?
Will you not, then, take much greater care that not a single crumb of what is more precious than gold and precious stones falls to you?”
THE VIRGIN MARY DURING THE FLAGELLATION OF HER SON JESUS CHRIST, GOD.
Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich (visions and revelations): "When she came to, she saw the executioners carrying her Son away, torn to pieces. Jesus wiped his bloody eyes to see his Mother. She painfully raised her hands to him and followed with her eyes the bloody footprints of his feet. Then I saw Mary and Magdalene leave the people and approach the place of the scourging. Surrounded and hidden by the other women and other good people who gathered around, they threw themselves on the ground beside the pillar and with those cloths wiped away every drop they could find of the holy blood of Jesus."
*Even those who fell into error proclaimed respect and care for the consecrated particles.
There once was a man —and there still is— who proclaimed himself king.
Not over a realm of mountains or over armies.
He proclaimed himself king of his own being.
Absolute lord of his body. Legislator of his flesh. Sole judge of his life.
“My will is law,” he said.
“There is no greater good than what I choose. No truth beyond my decision.
Not even God may command me, for I am free.”
And with that stone, he laid a foundation.
It had no roots, yet he built it high.
He called it the dominion of freedom, and raised its columns with decrees,
verdicts, referendums, and solemn formulas.
Each generation was taught:
“You have not received life. You hold it.
And what one holds, one may dispose of.”
In his kingdom, death ceased to be a mystery.
It became a right.
Life was no longer a gift, but a loan.
And the body, no longer a temple, became territory.
The judges of the realm learned to obey desire.
The lawmakers learned to legislate demands, not justice.
And the supreme court no longer ruled from the throne of righteousness,
but from the echo of majority will.
Thus the self-king ruled with a firm hand:
he permitted abortions, assisted suicides, mutilations,
experiments on bodies, freedoms without purpose.
And if anyone spoke of natural law,
they were branded heretics against the new faith:
self-determination.
One day, the king fell ill.
And, loyal to his laws, he issued his final decree:
that a clean, dignified, legal death be administered.
No prayer. No mystery. No surrender.
But when the body no longer obeyed,
when pain arrived without consent,
a voice arose within him.
It was not the law.
It was not memory.
It was something else.
And it asked:
“Can one abolish what one did not establish?”
“Did you give yourself life? Did you craft your being? Did you author your soul?”
The king fell silent.
Too late, he understood
that he had lived as if he were the author,
when he was only a creature.
That he had signed laws over his body
as though it were property,
when in truth it was a sanctuary.
That he had called freedom what was escape,
and called sovereignty what was solitude.
But his signature had already been sealed.
The protocol had already been set in motion.
His death was clean, legal, and empty.
No one bid him farewell. No one wept.
Not because he was unloved,
but because no one remembered what a soul was.
And so ended the reign of the last sovereign of the body.
Not as a martyr of freedom,
but as proof of error.
For he had been coherent, yes.
But coherence can destroy as much as falsehood,
when it begins from a false premise.
And there is no premise more false than this:
that man is his own god.
For man does not belong to himself.
He is not the master of his life,
nor the judge of his death, nor the author of his being.
He is a creature.
And he forgot.
OMO
Saint Gregory the Great.
There was once a man.
A good man.
Or at least, that’s what he thought.
He was a man of faith—unshakable faith. He believed, with all the confidence of a reformer holding a hammer before a church door, that faith alone was enough. That with faith—only faith—he was righteous before God.
He had read Luther and Calvin with fervor, debated with every Catholic friend he had, and was absolutely certain that salvation was his, with no need for works to prove it.
And in this absolute certainty, he died.
And then, he awoke in a great hall.
It was not an earthly hall. It had no visible walls or ceiling, yet he felt enclosed. No source of light shone, yet everything was illuminated. No voice spoke, yet something in him understood.
The judgment had begun.
And then, a voice—one that needed no introduction—asked:
— Have you been righteous?
The man, with the same confidence with which he had debated sola fide on countless online forums, raised his chin and declared:
— Yes, because I had faith!
There was a silence, as if the entire universe had paused to listen to his response.
And then, before him, a book was opened.
A massive book, like a divine ledger. His name was there, shining and clear.
And beneath his name—nothing.
Nothing.
Not a single work of mercy. Not a single act of charity. Not one moment where he had fed the hungry, clothed the naked, or visited the sick.
Nothing.
And the voice asked again, with a calmness that cut like a sword:
— Where are your fruits?
The man hesitated. For the first time in his existence, his confidence wavered.
— But… I believed.
And then, without warning, another voice echoed—a voice written centuries ago, in the pages of an apostle he had chosen to ignore:
— “You see that a man is justified by works and not by faith alone.” (James 2:24)
A shiver ran through his soul. But he was not defeated yet. No, he had answers—answers he had repeated countless times in his life.
— But… Saint Paul said we are justified by faith.
Another silence. And then, another page appeared, from the very same Paul he had cited. And in it, these words burned like fire:
— “For it is not the hearers of the law who are righteous before God, but the doers of the law who will be justified.” (Romans 2:13)
The man felt his confidence slip through his fingers like sand in the wind.
— But… I was justified because God imputed it to me. I… I didn’t have to do anything—just believe.
There was a whisper in the air, an echo of centuries of wisdom. And then, out of nowhere, a figure appeared—a man with a pen in his hand and the gaze of one who had crushed heresies before breakfast.
Saint Robert Bellarmine.
— “If justification were merely a declaration of righteousness without a real transformation of the soul, then God would be a liar, calling just what remains unjust.”
And for the first time, the man saw the abyss of his error.
God could not be a liar. And yet, his doctrine made God a liar. Because if he, filthy, empty, fruitless, was called just by a simple declaration, then justice had no meaning.
— But… Luther said…
And at that moment, another figure appeared, with the serenity of a lion and the logic of an unstoppable machine.
Saint Thomas Aquinas.
— “The justification of the sinner is a transformation of the soul in which, by God’s grace, he truly becomes just.” (STh I-II, q. 113, a. 2)
— But…
And then, another man stepped forward—an eloquent bishop with the heart of fire and a tongue sharp as a sword, a knight who had destroyed heresy with words as sweet as they were relentless.
Saint Francis de Sales.
— “Justification that does not produce a real change is a phantom without substance. If faith without works is dead, how could something dead justify?”
The man felt his soul tremble.
And then, the voice spoke again.
— God, who created you without you, will not save you without you.
The man recognized the words. Saint Augustine had said them. He had read them. But he had never understood them.
Because all his life, he had believed salvation was a blank check. That he could believe and remain unchanged. That his soul could be a corpse wrapped in a cloak of imputed righteousness.
But now he saw it. Now he understood. The soul had to be transformed. Faith had to be accompanied by love. Grace did not merely cover the soul—it made it new.
And he… he had done nothing.
And at that moment, he understood the Parable of the Talents. He understood the words of Christ:
— “Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink.” (Matthew 25:41-42)
He had believed that God would demand nothing more than faith. But now he saw that God expected fruits.
And he had none.
And for the first time in his existence, terror filled him.
The voice spoke one final time.
— If you love me, keep my commandments. (John 14:15)
The book closed.
And the man, who had died believing himself justified, fell into the abyss.
⸻
Epilogue: The Lesson
The Protestant error is a fatal error. One that sounds pious, but is the greatest betrayal of Scripture.
The man who trusts in forensic justification, in a righteousness that does not change him, is living a lie.
Because God does not call just what remains unjust.
Because faith without works is dead.
Because grace does not merely cover—it transforms.
Because God created us without us, but He will not save us without us.
The man at the Judgment realized it too late.
But you, who have read this, still have time.
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