Tag: abuse

Mandatory Reading for Catholics

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

The crisis in the Church is not particular to the homosexual priest and those Bishops who promote and protect them; the larger problem is a corruption of the Church’s doctrine and liturgy that has enabled the perverts.

Among the greatest errors of the modernists is neo-ultramontanism, a heresy which elevates the person of the Bishop of Rome to a “successor of Christ” status, rather than a mere “successor of Peter”.  These ‘Catholics’ see in each Pope a de facto reincarnation of Christ; a Priest and King who is to owed absolute obedience.  This Papolatry has plagued the Church for 40 years and led to the loss of many tens of millions of souls and the confusion of hundreds of millions more.

The following article gets to the heart of the issue:

he chaos that engulfed the Church in the 1960s and 1970s was probably due in large part to rebellion against the tyrannical exercise of authority that had been inflicted on clergy and religious prior to the 1960s. Like other revolutions recorded by bistory, however, this revolt against tyranny did not lead to the triumph of freedom. Instead, it produced a more far-reaching and thorough tyranny, by destroying the elements of the ancien régime that had placed limits on the power of superiors. It did away with the factors listed above that had counteracted the influence of a tyrannical conception of authority in the Counter Reformation Church.

The progressive faction that seized power in seminaries and religious orders had its

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The Courageous, True Story of a Little Girl, Her Daddy and a Bad Priest

Posted on by Jeff Cassman

So… What should Mom and Dad have done differently? I will weigh in later so my ideas don’t poison the well.

It was 1963 and I had just turned twelve.

I’d gotten my period a year before and was developing faster than most girls in my class. Where they were still short, rosy-cheeked, and flat-chested, I was six inches taller, growing into a B-cup, and getting acne. It was an awkward, confusing time for me.

Sadly, my mother was pre-occupied with her newest baby and my other eight siblings. Dad was mostly at work trying to make enough money to keep us all in parochial schools. I often felt alone and—like most kids that age–unable to share my feelings with my parents. Thank God for Celestine, our full-time housekeeper who was a sweet, second mother to me. She’d watched us kids outside playing and heard some of the neighborhood kids making comments. She promptly dragged me down to the five-and-dime to buy me my first bra.

“We don’t need those nasty boys looking down your blouse,” I remember her saying.

I know she was trying to protect me, but somehow, I got the message that there was something shameful about me in the word nasty and the fact that I had breasts.

Nonetheless, I knew I was “becoming a woman” and it was (for vague reasons) something special that should be celebrated, and something precious that should be safeguarded. I just wished I’d had an older sister or someone to

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