quarta-feira, 31 de outubro de 2018

Sentimentalismo: Praga que Defende um "Cristo" "Tolerante" de Pijama, Irrelevante, Amiguinho do Demônio.


Como é comum vermos tanta gente que não sabe nada de religião cristã dizer coisas como: "Ah, Cristo é tolerância", "Cristo é só amor, não é ódio", "Cristo não julga ninguém", "Cristo quer que você seja você mesmo". Na boca delas, temos um cristo piegas, bobinho, vestido de pijama que não faz mal a ninguém, nem converte ninguém, nem fala em pecado e é amiguinho do demônio.

Aquele ser encarnado que chamou muitos de "sepulcro caiado", "raça de víboras", "demônio" (até São Pedro foi chamado disso), que desceu o chicote no templo, que expulsou demônios, e que disse que todos deveriam se converter a Ele, está desaparecido.

Dependendo da pessoa que fala daquele cristo "tolerante", eu respondo de uma maneira ou de outra. Se eu identifico que a pessoa tem alguma salvação, isto é, se vejo que ela realmente não sabe nada de Cristo e quer aprender, eu respondo de uma maneira. Mas na maioria dos casos a pessoa simplesmente já está dominada por um sentimentalismo político. O erro está enraizado, então respondo de forma mais direta sem esperança que ressoará no coração dela. Pois sei que o próximo passo é eu ser xingado, não gosto de perder tempo.

O que mais entristece é que essas afirmações descabidas tanto em termos de religião, como em termos de lógica (eu não preciso conhecer a Bíblia para derrubar esses argumentos), já dominam dentro do Vaticano, no pontificado do Papa Francisco, desde o seu "quem sou eu pra julgar" do Papa dito no começo do pontificado sobre os homossexuais.

Tudo é "pastoral", "misericordioso", "sem pecado", "manso", "efeminado".

Hoje, leio um artigo do Dr. Samuel Gregg justamente sobre sobre o sentimentalismo dentro da Igreja de Francisco, que ele chama de Affectus per solam. (Só sentimentos).

Vejamos parte do texto dele publicado no Catholic World Report


A Church drowning in sentimentalism

Faith and reason are under siege from an idolatry of feelings.

Catholicism has always attached high value to reason. By reason, I don’t just mean the sciences which give us access to nature’s secrets. I also mean the reason that enables us to know how to use this information rightly; the principles of logic which tell us that 2 times 2 can never equal 5; our unique capacity to know moral truth; and the rationality which helps us understand and explain Revelation.
Such is Catholicism’s regard for reason that this emphasis has occasionally collapsed into hyper-rationalism, such as the type which Thomas More and John Fisher thought characterized much scholastic theology in the twenty years preceding the Reformation. Hyper-rationalism isn’t, however, the problem facing Christianity in Western countries today. We face the opposite challenge. I’ll call it Affectusper solam.
“By Feelings Alone” captures much of the present atmosphere within the Church throughout the West. It impacts how some Catholics view not only the world but the faith itself. At the core of this widespread sentimentalism is an exaltation of strongly-felt feelings, a deprecation of reason, and the subsequent infantilization of Christian faith.
So what are symptoms of Affectus per solam? One is the widespread use of language in everyday preaching and teaching that’s more characteristic of therapy than words used by Christ and his Apostles. Words like “sin” thus fade and are replaced by “pains,” “regrets” or “sad mistakes.”
...
Above all, sentimentalism reveals itself in certain presentations of Jesus Christ. The Christ whose hard teachings shocked his own followers and who refused any concession to sin whenever he spoke of love somehow collapses into a pleasant liberal rabbi. This harmless Jesus never dares us to transform our lives by embracing the completeness of truth. Instead he recycles bromides like “everyone has their own truth,” “do whatever feels best,” “be true to yourself,” “embrace your story,” “who am I to judge,” etc. And never fear: this Jesus guarantees heaven, or whatever, for everyone.
That isn’t, however, the Christ revealed in the Scriptures. As Joseph Ratzinger wrote in his 1991 book To Look on Christ:
A Jesus who agrees with everything and everyone, a Jesus without his holy wrath, without the harshness of truth and true love is not the real Jesus as the Scripture shows but a miserable caricature. A conception of “gospel” in which the seriousness of God’s wrath is absent has nothing to do with the biblical Gospel.
The word “seriousness” is important here. The sentimentalism infecting much of the Church is all about diminishing the gravity and clarity of Christian faith. That’s especially true regarding the salvation of souls. The God fully revealed in Christ is merciful but he’s also just and clear in his expectations of us because he takes us seriously. Woe to us if we don’t return the compliment.
So how did much of the Church end up sinking into a morass of sentimentalism? Here’s three primary causes.
First, the Western world is drowning in sentimentalism. Like everyone else, Catholics are susceptible to the culture in which we live. If you want proof of Western Affectus per solam, just turn on your web-browser. You’ll soon notice the sheer emotivism pervading popular culture, media, politics, and universities. In this world, morality is about your commitment to particular causes. What matters is how “passionate” (note the language) you are about your commitment, and the cause’s degree of political correctness—not whether the cause itself is reasonable to support.
Second, let’s consider how faith is understood by many Catholics today. For many, it appears to be a “feeling faith.” By that, I mean that Christian faith’s significance is judged primarily in terms of feeling what it does for memy well-being, and my concerns. But guess what? Me, myself, and I aren’t the focus of Catholic faith.
Catholicism is, after all, a historical faith. It involves us deciding that we trust those who witnessed to the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, who transmitted what they saw via written texts and unwritten traditions, and who, we’ve concluded, told the truth about what they saw. That includes the miracles and Resurrection attesting to Christ’s Divinity. Catholicism doesn’t view these as “stories.” To be a Catholic is to affirm that they really happened and that Christ instituted a Church whose responsibility is to preach this to the ends of the earth.
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Third, sentimentalism’s pervasiveness in the Church owes something to efforts to downgrade and distort natural law since Vatican II. Natural law reflection was in mixed shape throughout the Catholic world in the decades leading up to the 1960s. But it suffered an eclipse in much of the Church afterwards. That’s partly because natural law was integral to Humanae Vitae’s teaching. Many theologians subsequently decided that anything underpinning Humanae Vitae had to be emptied of substantive content.
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Other reasons for sentimentalism’s traction in today’s Church could be mentioned: the disappearance of logic from educational curricula, excessive deference to (bad) psychology and (bad) sociology by some clerics formed in the 1970s, inclinations to view the Holy Spirit’s workings as something that could contradict Christ’s teachings, syrupy self-referential Disney-like liturgies, etc. It’s a long list.
The solution isn’t to downgrade the importance of emotions like love and joy or anger and fear for people. We aren’t robots. Feelings are central aspects of our nature. Instead, human emotions need to be integrated into a coherent account of Christian faith, human reason, human action, and human flourishing—something undertaken with great skill by past figures like Aquinas and contemporary thinkers such as the late Servais Pinckaers. Then we need to live our lives accordingly.
Escaping Affectus per solam won’t be easy. It’s simply part of the air we breathe in the West. Moreover, some of those most responsible today for forming people in the Catholic faith seem highly susceptible to sentimentalist ways. But unless we name and contest the unbridled emotivism presently compromising the Church’s witness to the Truth, we risk resigning ourselves to mere NGO-ism for the near future.
That is to say, to true irrelevance.


2 comentários:

Anônimo disse...

Temo por pensar que estamos perto da daquela definição bíblica de "meretriz do apocalipse". Afinal o que é uma "casa de tolerância" senão o local de trabalho de uma meretriz?
Abraço,
Gustavo.

Pedro Erik disse...

Pois é, amigo, bem lembrado.

Avassalador para quem ver e tem o real Cristo no coração.

Abraço