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Woke theological rot is coming for Catholics, too
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Woke theological rot is coming for Catholics, too

The tendency to turn from transcendent reality to shallow activism may well be the work of the accuser himself.

Anyone shocked by Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde's shrill, partisan lecture on Tuesday hasn't been paying attention. Christianity has been in a sad state for years.

Ostensibly, the "interfaith service" was meant to ask God to guide the new administration. For her part, Budde dwelled on the here and now, chastising President Trump for not sharing her traditional liberal faith in open borders and "trans children."

The Church I knew, for all its flaws, had real values. Today, it reeks of compromise and moral decay.

Take the Catholic Church, in which I was raised.

Like a true Irishman, I served my time as an altar boy, sweating in cassocks during weddings, whispering amens at funerals, and nervously stumbling through the odd reading at Mass.

I served during Ireland’s transition from the Irish pound to the Euro, which meant that, on top of my altar boy duties, I had to grapple with exchange rates and figure out if I was being fairly compensated. This was a daunting task for a young boy who disliked math.

The rituals were ingrained in me, as much a part of life as Sunday roast or schoolyard scuffles. Years later, I look at the Church — broken, bereft of meaning, barely recognizable. Once proud of its rich history and claim to divine truth, the Catholic Church seems to have sold its soul for scraps.

Or maybe even to Satan himself.

Devil's in the details

The heart of this betrayal lies in the seismic shifts unleashed during the early to mid-'60s by the Second Vatican Council. Convened by Pope John XXIII and concluded by Pope Paul VI, Vatican II set out to “open the windows” of the Church to the modern world. What followed was the end of the Latin Mass, with centuries of solemn, unified worship being tossed aside for vernacular language.

The council embraced aggiornamento, or “updating,” a move that rattled the Church’s traditionalists, none more so than Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò.

For him, this wasn’t renewal; this was outright surrender. He and like-minded believers considered this the start of a human-centered agenda, shifting the Church’s focus from heaven to earth and reducing its mission to a shallow type of activism.

A former Vatican insider turned fierce critic, Viganò has accused the Church of becoming a pawn of globalist forces, abandoning divine doctrine in favor of political expediency. He sees the Church as having been infiltrated by what he calls a "deep state" of ideologues bent on subverting its sacred foundations.

His critiques are blistering, targeting not just Vatican II but the current pontificate of Pope Francis, whom he describes as the embodiment of this counterfeit church. For Viganò, the Church has turned its focus away from God, redirecting its devotion to modernism, relativism, and a misguided pursuit of secular approval.

Central to Viganò's argument is the belief that Vatican II’s reforms were the gateway for moral and theological decay. By abandoning the Latin Mass, the Church, in his view, severed a vital connection to its past.

The universal language of worship, transcending culture and time, was replaced by a fragmented and often turgid liturgy. What was once a mystical encounter with the creator has been reduced to a pedestrian exercise in community gathering.

Sure, community gatherings have their place — but that’s what community centers are for. A church is meant to be something far greater: a sacred space where the mystical touches the mortal, where the eternal meets the temporal. Strip that away, and all you’re left with is a meeting hall with fancy windows and some man in a dress.

Woke Francis

Under Pope Francis, Viganò's critique has sharpened. He accuses the Argentine of not just following an unholy agenda but actively promoting it.

Whether it’s the vague statements on morality, the relentless push for environmental and social justice causes, or the softening stance on traditional teachings, Viganò sees a Church that has essentially undergone a cultural identity swap.

Speaking of which, the now infamous “Who am I to judge?” comment on LGBTQ issues epitomizes the Church’s rejection of divine law. Viganò views the discussions about blessing same-sex unions, expanding women’s roles, and other progressive measures not as signs of compassion or inclusion but as evidence of a Church betraying its original mandate.

Viganò’s criticisms extend beyond liturgy and doctrine to the Church's internal decay. He has been one of the most outspoken voices exposing financial corruption within the Vatican and the complicity of Church leaders in the sexual abuse crisis.

To him (and anyone with a functioning brain), these scandals aren’t isolated incidents. Rather, they’re glaring symptoms of a deeper sickness. Essentially, we have a Church that moralizes to the masses while acting in ways that utterly betray fundamental Catholic principles.

The Hunger Games, Catholic edition

This schism has turned the Church into a battleground, with each side accusing the other of betrayal.

Traditionalists demand a return to the old ways — the Latin Mass, authentic doctrines, and sacred liturgy that lift believers toward the transcendent.

Progressives, on the other hand, clamor for reform, insisting the Church must evolve or die. They dress their agenda in the language of compassion and progress. However, it’s nothing more than a blatant attempt to remake the Church in their own image — secular, self-serving, and, at times, outright perverse.

Both sides claim to defend the true essence of Catholicism, but their visions are so irreconcilable that the Church now represents a house divided.

As someone who grew up immersed in Catholic rituals, I can’t help but feel a mix of anger and deep sorrow. The Church I knew, for all its flaws, had real values. Today, it reeks of compromise and moral decay.

Its desperate push to modernize leaves it indistinguishable from any other pandering secular institution. In its chase for cultural approval, the Church has abandoned the very thing that made it powerful: its otherworldliness.

A Church that desperately attempts to please the world becomes irrelevant to it. A house divided always falls. By renouncing heaven, the Church has found hell.

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John Mac Ghlionn

John Mac Ghlionn

Contributor

John Mac Ghlionn is a researcher and essayist. His work has appeared in the American Conservative, the New York Post, the South China Morning Post, and the Sydney Morning Herald.
@ghlionn →