Someone has cleverly observed that the first casualty of war is truth. One might add that a close second is language, and that is true of both war and revolution.

 

It is not an accident that the German Nazis for example spoke of the "final solution" rather that speaking of wiping out the Jewish race. It sounds so much less threatening, less evil, perhaps even a tad positive. Similarly, it is no accident that pro-aborts talk about the "products of conception", rather than an unborn child or a foetus: it makes what they are doing seem so much more palatable, less evil, perhaps even a tad bland.

 

A parallel process is taking place in the post-Conciliar Church. There is a war at the moment between Modernists and Catholics for the soul of the Church. The Modernist has much in common with the sixteenth century reformers, but where he differs radically is in his methodology. Whereas Luther nailed his dissent to the church door at Wittenberg and shouted his foul mouthed defiance from the rooftop, the Modernist prefers to conceal his dissent and work away termite-like to destroy the Church from the inside. There will be no loud, coarse mouthed defiance from him, for the very last thing he wants to do is draw attention to his nasty self.

 

The Modernist is a cunning creature, a duplicitous sort who deals in nuance; he moves in the shadows, employing familiar words but with an entirely different meaning. And yet his heart is so swollen with pride, so eager for human acclaim that, sooner or later, he can't resist the urge to break cover.

 

The modernist is like the wolf in the story of Little Red Riding Hood; all is disarming smiles, effusive politeness, inflated bonhomie and never-ending empty prattle about "love". His handshake is always warm, even if usually somewhat unpleasantly limp and moist. When it suits his purpose he will claim that he is recovering a long lost tradition from the early Church, when he wishes to kill-off the same, he will tell us that change is necessary in order to better address the needs of “modern man”. Thus, this master of deceit puts himself in a “Heads I win, tails you lose” situation, all the while claiming only the noblest of motives.

 

Because the Modernist is highly skilled at concealing his loss of faith, he can be difficult to unmask, but his language will often give him away. Just as when someone talks about the "products of conception", you know immediately that they are a raving pro-abort, similarly, when you hear a prelate talking about the "president" when he means "priest," you know you are dealing with a raving Modernist.

 

A classic example: Bishop Kieran Conry who recently spoke of the need to get people back to celebrating the "Sacrament of Reconciliation." Why do Modernists use convoluted language like "Sacrament of Reconciliation" instead of "confession"? The answer is very simple, they do not believe in sacramental absolution, that smacks too much of the miraculous, and that "magic" stuff is for children. So to conceal his dissent, he has worked out a clever alternative story. It goes something like this: sin is an offence against one's neighbour (he doesn't actually believe in sin as being an offence against God - which may be why men like Archbishop Vincent Nichols can happily pay public homage to Hindu gods). Sin therefore separates me from my neighbour, and consequently puts me outside the community. What is needed therefore is someone with the authority to admit me back into the community.

 

Who better to exercise this authority than the priest (sorry, “president”) who has been delegated by the community to take care of community affairs. Thus we are dealing here with a quasi-judicial act, not a sacerdotal one (the Modernists can stomach that - no "magic" involved). Thus, "Sacrament of Reconciliation" because the bloke in charge has readmitted (reconciled) me back into the community.

 

Occasionally it is not words but their actions that give them away. The Church solemnly teaches that she does not have the power to ordain women. The Modernist, not believing in sacerdotal powers, entirely rationally concludes that anyone, including women, can be appointed by the community to preside. Thus a few years ago you found Bishop Malcolm McMahon taking two Anglican priestesses with him on his diocesan pilgrimage to Lourdes and encouraging the faithful to attend their invalid (hence blasphemous) “Masses.” He then had both these heretical laywomen dressed in full clerical glad rags on the altar for his final Mass. This way his lordship can replace our Catholic religion with his own private religion, while cunningly not uttering a single self-incriminating syllable. Bishop Malcolm McMahon is soon to be inflicted on the long-suffering remnant of the once vibrant Catholic diocese of Liverpool. Meanwhile, like stray dogs praising the dog catcher for having tossed them a couple of biscuits, the brain dead are salivating over the fact that his Lordship has occasionally celebrated the Traditional Mass.

 

Modernists have much in common with the predatory sodomites in the ministry, whose abuse of adolescent boys since the Council has dragged the name of the Church into the mud.: both have no scruples about prostituting their clerical office, or using it as a bully-pulpit, to advance their private agendas, and both use guile and deceit to get away with it, all the while, like that wolf in the story of Little Red Riding Hood, smiling you to death.