They say the world is ending.
When we start to really think about what we have lost, it seems likely. A scarce 50 years ago, the Church was strong. And although one could not deny she was headed for a storm, it seemed unlikely that she would fail to weather it. We were, or so we thought, too big to fail.
And then, in a burst of insanity, the windows of her fortress were thrown open, and a puff of air entered in. It was the breath of the devil himself. Within only a few years, rosaries were being torn from the hands of devout elderly women, traditional masses were being banned, bishops and priests dared to forbid eucharistic adoration, children began to be molested in the sacristy and even during confession, and the Church – the mighty foundational fortress upon which the West was built – began to succumb to the poison which had entered her veins.
Some of the faithful departed the arms of Mother Church, disgusted and horrified at the transmogrification she seemed to have undergone, never to return. Others, poor, ignorant and innocent children that they were, tried to forget the few orthodox beliefs they’d been taught, diligently and blindly following corrupt and wolfish priests and bishops, believing it was their duty, and that all the Church’s religious meant well. They forgot their fears and followed these evil men – many of them, God help us, straight to hell.
And so here we stand, among the leftover ruins of that great coup, enslaved and helpless. And yet, we are not without all hope. For help has begun to come to us from the unlikeliest of places. In a dark and forgotten corner of the world, left untouched for many years, stood a faction which was untouched and unaffected by that great mis-step of the Church’s leaders: Vatican II. Untouched because they were uninvolved, and unaffected because they did not belong to Mother Church. They were called Fundementalists. While the years of seperation from Mother Church had gradually shaped their faith into something hollow and without foundation, still they clung to many of her most valuable teachings, though they knew not why. And some of that faction, sensing the goundlessness of their faith, began to question who they were, and what city their fathers had departed when they wandered into the desert more than 500 years ago.
And so they began to leave their tent revivals, and, turning a deaf ear to their firebrand preachers, they went in search of something more substantial than faith alone. They were searching for their home.
These wanderers, like children born in a vicious and terrible wilderness, followed the nearly-forgotten fragments of lore left to them by their ancestors, and eventually found their way to the great city of Rome. Crossing the threshold of that city’s once-mighty gates, they knew in their hearts that they had found home at last. And yet, those gates were not what they should have been. After 500 years of wandering in the wilderness, they at last threw themselves again into the arms of their loving Mother. But the joy of their homecoming was soon turned to sadness – great and overwhelming sadness – as they discovered their Mother, so powerful and beautiful when they left her, had grown old and feeble, now having but a shadow of her former glory.
I was once one of those wandering children. Now I am grown strong. I have not forgotten the years of wandering in that cursed wilderness, and I will not leave unavenged the horrible violations committed against my Mother by the cowardly, corrupt curs who infiltrated her and poisoned her veins. I, and those who wandered with me, will not rest until we have destroyed them, and irradicated even their memory from the annals of history. They have grown fat and lazy from their years of parasitic feeding upon our glorious Mother, and with the help of God Almighty we will smash them to pieces in their gluttonous conceit.
But they say the world is ending. It makes those of us who listen to the winds of time wonder if God Himself is so enraged at the violation of His Bride that this time, He will Himself destroy them with holy fire. It makes those of us who serve Him tremble with fear, for we know that even we will not be spared from the judgement He will unleash upon the earth.
And yet, so be it. For if He be pleased with us (and we do all we can to ensure that He is), then we will soon share with Him and Christ our Savior in the heavenly feast of triumph, regaling and listening to the stories of those mighty deeds which He has done, and which He empowered us to do upon the earth. And His wrath will be so terrible, and His judgement to final, that our anger at the violation of our Mother will be more than sated.
So come with me, brothers, and let us walk upon these green fields and among these dark satanic mills for a final time, thinking upon our victory and the triumph of our Lord. For soon, we shall go at last to the halls of our fathers across the sea.
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