I think the anonymous author managed to use every insult Francis ever hurled at believing Catholics in his 12 years, 1 month, 9 days Pontificate.
From Rorate Cæli
Written by an anonymous spectator of the past twelve years.—PAK
Speakers:
F–
His genius
St. Peter
F: The gates will not open!
G: Did you remember the key?
F: It was the Pharisees reproached by Jesus who shut the gates before others. These men are rigorists who are locked within, trapped by their own addiction to calculation. The Church has always feared danger and responded by looking in on herself. Closed from within, she remains a prisoner of evil.
G: Perhaps, but even so, we are the ones stuck outside.
F: Do not judge! This is hypocrisy. The porter must be brooding somewhere.
P: Thank goodness the gate is so sturdy. What is that noise? Excuse me, sir, but do you smell something?
F: See how the hypocrite is unable to accuse himself! Of course I smell it—it is those fomenters of coprophagia. It reeks.
G: He would know.
F: Open this gate.
P: Would you mind telling me who you are first?
F: To refuse to see—this is the sin of spiritual myopia.
P: Perhaps you misunderstand. I do indeed see you, but I am afraid that we haven’t made one another’s acquaintance.
F: Humility is not possible without humiliation. I see what he attempts. But we must avoid a self-referential attitude. Here is one of my books, an interview I gave with a journalist.
P: I am afraid I do not recognize this.
G: Lucky him.
F: I see you are one of those who do not know the peripheries.
P: I was a simple fisherman before I was elected by Our Lord.
F: A bishop with a career!
P: In a manner of speaking, yes.
F: In my time I knew many like you: leprous courtiers, counters of rosaries, restorationists, creed-reciters, smarmy fundamentalists, Americans.
P: All those who would enter here must be holy.
F: What? You would close the freedom of the Spirit? I will issue a motu proprio.
P: A what?
F: Never mind—I can see how you cower in your wicked interior, it is not good or free. Oh, if we could all leave.
P: Yes, I have just noticed the crowd behind you. We rarely see them here. CEOs, consultants, invited speakers from Davos, climate scientists, bishops. And that one next to you—who is he?
G: I am F—’s genius.
P: That makes sense.
F: Enough of this—it is ecclesiastical sickness. The gate must open.
P: As I said, only those who are holy are admitted to this place.
F: Yours is the attitude of a child. You are afraid to dance the dance, to laugh, to weep with us.
P: Oh I admit that I have known fear. But I am not afraid of you or your companions.
F: So you reject synodality, the path of listening?
P: I was corrected once, on a memorable occasion, by St. Paul.
F: It is clear that you are one of those who struts around like a peacock, full of self-satisfaction with your narrow scribal conception of theology—the Christian bats, preferring the shadows to the light of encounter, the big fish whose flesh rots on the dock of the Church.
G: A veritable menagerie!
P: It is true that I have caught some fish in my day. But once again, I am afraid that you are going to have to show me that your life was one of merit.
F: As Christians we must say “no” to all forms of exclusion. These “merits” are like little holy cards, full of comforting images we hold up for others.
P: What about doctrine? Did you faithfully transmit the teaching of Our Lord?
F: Doctors of the law seek salvation in moral casuistry.
P: Did your holy example, then, lead many to Christ?
F: If there is no concreteness, there is no conversion. There is only proselytizing.
G: The bad place is very concrete.
P: Were you fervent in your devotions?
F: The coldness, the formality of prayer—this leads to sterility, to an uncreative anesthetized faith.
P: Did you fast?
F: There is the fasting of hypocrites, the path of vanity. This is giving oneself a bribe.
G: He dislikes “closed commandments.”
P: These are all the marks of holiness with which I am familiar.
F: This man does not bring harmony.
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