For years the Catholic media referred to Archbishop Lefebvre as 'The Rebel Archbishop' and other similar derogatory titles. The clergy, or many of them, classified the Society as schismatic and fundamentalist yet the priests I knew were far from both (although there are a few amongst them who would classify for that description, but very few).
Since the Vatican and Bishop Fellay (who is, I believe, one of the holiest men I have ever met), have been in talks the phraseology has altered a little. Now they are referred to as the SSPX or 'the Society' and quite right too.
But, there is one exception. One blogger who refers to the Society as 'Lefebvrists' and talks about them 'submitting' to Rome. Oh deary me no! That will not do. That is not so very Christ like, it's not even polite.
I will not name and shame but I do pray that she gets a more measured slant to her blog in future. It's a blog that I do not normally follow as I find that it leads me down the route of venial sin (if a few strong oaths count as venial sin, which I rather think that they do).
But I shall stop by on a once a month basis just to see if she is behaving with Christian decency.
And if she's not then I shall offer up a Mass for her - that reminds me of a time spent in a convent in Rome whilst on pilgrimage.
The nun in charge of pilgrim accommodation had obviously been to the Goebbels School of Hospitality rounded off with work experience at the Pyongyang Dear Leader Hilton. She was outrageously rude, especially to Mrs Linen who, let me tell you, has angel blood in her veins. She shouted and ranted at us if we sat in a wrong chair or walked too fast or too slow. It got so bad that we nicknamed her 'Sister Satanas.' Her vile nature was obscuring the whole point of our being there and, on the last day, whilst kneeling at Mass, a quick nudge from my Guardian Angel pushed me into offering up my Mass for that awful nun.
After Mass we came out of the chapel and were about to leave the convent for a meal and a glass or two of chianti collapso when I was grabbed and embraced enthusiastically by the aforesaid nun. She was smiling and laughing and looking even slightly coqettish. She then embraced my wife warmly also and with many blown kisses and flutters of fingers, we were waved off by this little saint of a nun.
Never before have I experienced the consequences of prayer so swiftly and so obviously - the power of the Eucharist!
And who knows? It may work with that certain blogger also.