FRIAR ONION, QUEL PERSONAGGIO IDEATO DA GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO CHE ISPIRÒ UN SERMONE DI FUOCO A SAN BERNARDINO IN QUEL MEDIOEVO CHE FU GRANDE LUCE E NON CERTO BUIO

[…] once the waiters arrived early to warn the Supreme Pontiff Benedict XIV that during the night a fire had broken out in Rome in the Monti district. To which he blurted out: "Shit! And there have been deaths?». Monsignor Teodoro Boccapaduli tugged him discreetly. After the waiters had detailed the seriousness of the fact, the Supreme Pontiff replied bursting: "Shit!». And Monsignor tugs him again. At that point Benedict XIV, saddened by that grave report, he turns towards the prelate bursting out: "Boccapaduli.", you broke my balls: dick, dick, dick! Ah, I want to sanctify this word. Indeed I want to promulgate one fucking bubble, to grant plenary indulgence to those who pronounce this word ten times a day ".

— Storia e attualità —

Author
Ariel S. Levi di Gualdo

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More than making a hypothesis, I dare to attribute a little discovery to myself: in his fiery sermon San Bernardino of Siena [Massa Marittima 1380 - L'Aquila 1444] he was inspired by, or was in any case influenced by the short story of Friar Cipolla enclosed in the work Decameron, composed by Giovanni Boccaccio between the 1349 and the 1351.

The fratacchione Boccaccio he used to travel the countries of the countryside showing the most improbable relics to the bifolchi, including the little finger of the Holy Spirit, one of the ribs of the «Dear Verbum made at the window» [crippling of the Latin: and Word was made flesh], the rays of the star that appeared to the three Magi in the East, an ampoule containing the sweat of Archangel Michael that fell from his forehead when he fought with the Devil, the jaw of the Death of San Lazzaro and so on.

Being in that of Certaldo, he had promised the villagers that the following day he would exhibit an extraordinary relic to the people: a pen that fell to Archangel Gabriel during the Annunciation. Senonché, at night, two local pranksters stole the precious angelic pen from inside the box in which it was kept, replacing it with coals. Quando Frate Cipolla aprì la scatola per esibire la preziosa reliquia ai beoti, scoprendo al suo interno dei carboni non si sgomentò, he apologized to those present saying that on his departure he had mistakenly taken the wrong container, identical to the one in which the precious pen was kept. Like this, after an apology, he provided the people with the coals on which the Holy Martyr Lorenzo was roasted.

A few decades later, Bernardino degli Albizzeschi, son of a powerful family from the upper Tuscan Maremma, today universally known as San Bernardino of Siena [Massa Marittima 1380 - L'Aquila 1444], in one of his sermons he launched himself against popular superstitions, particularly taking it out on the false relics and the profitable market that revolved around it. Oggetto di quel sermone dall’evidente impianto boccaccesco fu la reliquia del latte della Beata Vergine Maria conservata nella chiesa collegiata di Montevarchi, in which Friar Bernardino thundered:

"It is who you want, I say you do not like these things to God these. Like milk from the Virgin Mary. Or women, where you are? And likewise you, able men, vedestene mai? You know you should be showing for relics: v'aviate not faith […] Maybe she was a cow the Virgin Mary, she had her milk lassato, how loose the beasts, you lassano mugnare? I have this opinion: that is, she had so much milk, neither more nor less, enough that Bochina Jesu Christ blessed " [San Bernardino of Siena – Hypocrite devotions. in: Baldi. Novels and moral examples of S. Bernardino of Siena, Florence, 1916].

Dipinto d’epoca del Sommo Pontefice Benedetto XIV [Bologna 1675 - Rome 1758], che con scurrile eleganza minac-ciò alcuni curiali scandalizzati dalle sue parole colorite, to promulgate a "Bull of the cock"

Com’è noto agli studiosi veri e seri, the middle Ages, the true one, divided into the space of almost a thousand years in three different eras that have followed throughout history, it was not the era of the "dark ages" at all, but of the centuries of light. Nel Medioevo si ebbe il più alto sviluppo della luce della ragione speculativa, combined with a critical sense and a spirit of unceasing research in the various areas of scientific knowledge. Se i libri di storia in uso nelle scuole non fossero scritti da ideologi, sarebbe chiaro a tutti che le legends Black on the Middle Ages they were built at the table at the end of the eighteenth century by enlightened poisoners of hatred towards everything that was Catholic. They were in fact these, animated by destructive ideology, to relegate the Middle Ages to the "dark ages" in the name of their alleged "lights of reason" lit under the French guillotines, dove le teste cadevano una dietro l’altra in seguito ad accuse basate su mere illazioni, often out of pure social envy, or after farcical summary trials in which the defendants were not granted the right to defense, nor that to the word [see my work Nada s security]. Questo al contrario del tremebondo processo inquisitorio, fruit this yes, of the most absurd and false black legends. Oh, what gross ignorance! The inquisitorial process, in addition to establishing the legal right to defend the defendant, non poteva proprio essere celebrato senza difesa e diritto di parola. Fu il processo inquisitorio a dare vita alla consuetudine che dopo la lettura della sentenza fosse concesso l’ultimo diritto di parola al condannato. It would be enough to read the legal works and related documents of the Bolognese glossers, that between the eleventh and twelfth centuries, nel “buio” medioevo dettero vita a tutti quelli che poi diverranno i moderni istituti giuridici, after recovering the Body of Civil Law by Justinian and reinterpreted all the classical texts.

but yet, to the present day, anche l’ultimo dei gai illetterati ideologicamente avvelenati verso il Cattolicesimo, ma assurto agli onori televisivi di qualche seguito talk show dove è impensabile possano mancare quote gaie, dall’alto della sua vittimistica e desolante ignoranza non manca di fare riferimenti pseudo storico-intellettuali al Medioevo, or at medieval spirit, per creare effetto e mettere in cattiva e ridicola luce qualche cosa di retrivo o di superstizioso, oltre a tutto ciò che è cattolico e legato alla Chiesa Cattolica. Unfortunately, il gaio attivista televisivo o da social network, ignora però che il Medioevo è l’epoca della riscoperta, dello studio e della messa in salvo di tutta la filosofia e letteratura classica. Se oggi possiamo leggere le opere più critiche redatte da autori greci e romani scritte contro il nascente Cristianesimo, o i carmi more lustful and pornographic written by Valerio Gaio Catullo, it is certainly not thanks to the Enlightenment inventors of black legends and false historians, né per l’attivismo delle odierne e agguerrite lobby LGBT, but why these works have been saved, transcribed and handed down to the present day by the Benedictine amanuensis monks, born in the 6th century from monasticism founded by San Benedetto da Norcia. E, in the context of Benedictine monasticism, tra le varie cose si sviluppò sia il nome sia lo stesso concetto socio-politico di Europa, la stessa che oggi nega un dato di fatto storico incontrovertibile: le radici cristiane del nostro antico Continente Europeo. So, sempre con buona pace del gaio attivista che dal portentoso mezzo televisivo o dai social network si rivolge sovente a milioni di ascoltatori, è presto detto che il Medioevo è Pier Damiani, Pietro Abelardo, Anselmo d’Aosta e i grandi maestri della scolastica. Il Medioevo è Bernardo di Chiaravalle, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventura da Bagnoregio, Duns Scotus. The Middle Ages are the great engineers, architects, mathematicians, astronomers and alchemists, gran parte dei quali appartenenti all’Ordine Certosino e all’Ordine Cistercense. The Middle Ages marked the season of the great literati: the Sicilian literary school of Frederick II of Swabia, Guido Cavalcanti, Dante Alighieri, Francesco Petrarca, Giovanni Boccaccio …

The man of the Middle Ages aveva anche un gusto straordinario della satira che, tanto più era pungente quanto più faceva ridere pontefici, emperors and rulers, none of whom gave up delighting on the most pungent satirical works, not only those of Boccaccio, but also those of the most scurrilous Peter the Aretino. Bisognava giungere ai giorni nostri per finire nei tribunali grazie a qualche attivista piagnone per il quale dibattere, anche in modo polemico, nella sostanza vuol dire questo: “Io ho il diritto di distruggerti la cultura e la morale cattolica pezzo per pezzo, perché sono la sacra vittima immacolata LGBT, ma tu non hai il diritto di replica, salvo querela”. Altri tempi erano invece quelli medievali, dove quando qualcuno voleva deliziare il Sommo Pontefice Pio II [Weather in Corsignano di Pienza 1405 – Ancona 1464], all he had to do was hire a talented storyteller to perform the rhymes of his Sienese fellow citizen Cecco Angiolieri [Siena 1260 – Siena 1311 c.a], che soleva motteggiare nelle taverne tra risa, vino e donnine molto allegre:

S’i’ were focus, combustion’ the world;
s’i’ was wind, the tempestarei;
s’i’ was water, i’ to drown;
s’i’ was God, send it deep;

s’i’ was Pope, I would be happy then,
for I would embrace all Christians;
s’i’ was ‘emperor’, to’ what would I do?
to all cut off the head in the round.

Not that Silvio Enea of ​​the Piccolomini accounts, then he ascended the sacred throne with the name of Pius II, fosse da meno in sarcasmo tagliente, as when he ironically condemned the request and the hope of obtaining favors from him by motteggiando:

I was Enea,

nobody knew me,

but now that I am Pio,

everyone calls me uncle.

Un anziano teologo, discorrendo a riguardo del Medioevo definito epoca dei cosiddetti “secoli bui” da molti odierni attivisti di quella metodica distruzione delle società europee fatta passare per “rivendicazione dei diritti”, with scientific wisdom he ironized saying: "Maybe, today's man had the speculative reason and the critical and analytical sense of that of the Middle Ages! Unfortunately today, l’uomo per così dire evoluto, che rivendica ogni diritto ma rigetta qualsiasi dovere, la sua presunta ragione la esercita ragionando col cazzo». Precisai io al confratello anziano: "You are right, ma non dimenticare però anche quelli che ragionano con le emozioni soggettive del culo!». Tutto questo genere dà vita a una cultura della morte che attraverso l’annientamento della ragione ci ha fatti precipitare in nuove forme di analfabetismo, much more devastating than those of the past, ma soprattutto in una nuova forma di dittatura: La dittature delle minoranze. Without going backwards over the centuries, just take a step backwards of just a century, at the beginning of the twentieth century, at the time of Vigils of Neri, work of the Tuscan writer Renato Fucini [Monterotondo Marittimo 1843 - Empoli 1921]. Let's start from the element of memory: elderly peasants who barely knew how to read and write, quite a few of whom were in conditions of total illiteracy, they were authentic itinerant literature libraries. During the evening vigils, in times when there was no cinema, let alone the TV, they entertained by narrating works learned by heart: from the Jerusalem Liberated by Torquato Tasso a Orlando Furioso by Ludovico Ariosto. I myself can testify to this, when I am just ten years old, in the lower Tuscan Maremma, on the border with Lazio, for the first time I knew the existence of Dante Alighieri's work, to be exact Hell, thanks to an elderly farmer, at the age of eighty - we are therefore talking about a man born in the late nineteenth century - who began to narrate, to us children, by Count Ugolino and Archbishop Ruggieri by reciting from memory:

The mouth lifted from the proud meal
quel sinner, shaking her hair
of the chief who had a retro fault.

Then it began: "You want me to renew
desperate pain that my heart presses me
already thinking, before I do it.

Ma se le mie word esser dien seme
that bears fruit to the traitor I eat,
talk and weep you will see together […]

Present my cousin, at the time just graduated in classical letters, amazed she then said to the other family members present: «He didn't make a mistake, I don't say a sentence, but not even a word!». That man had memorized entire literature books, that he hadn't read: he had learned them since he was a child during the vigils. I knew, afterwards, who had done the second grade of elementary school, the time strictly necessary to learn the basic rudiments of writing and reading, acquired which had followed parents and family in the fields of agricultural work.

Many dei nostri adolescenti super tecnologici, already at the end of elementary school they have entire collections of pornographic films recorded in theirs Smartphone; while the girls, already at eleven or twelve, they post their photos on social media in clothes and positions that would make the prostitutes who worked in the old brothels pale, before it in 1952 the Merlin Law decreed its closure, thanks to a bill proposed by Senator Angelina Merlin, of the Socialist Party, presented in 1948. but yet, these modern hyper-technological "monsters", unlike the man of the Middle Ages and the man of yesterday, that of The vigils of Neri, posseggono tali carenze mnemoniche da non ricordare neppure il numero del telefono cellulare dei loro genitori. Well: you know what happens if human intelligence, especially through reasoning and memory, it is not exercised? Roughly what we have under our eyes can happen: a generation of apathetic and ignorant idiots. Just so: we regressed to forms of frightening illiteracy, it would be enough to read the texts written by recent graduates, to be disconcerted in the face of such a deficit syntax enriched by gross grammatical errors. But ... we have evolved. So much to allow us with unheard of arrogance to make irony on the Middle Ages, we who are no longer able to exercise reason and objective critical judgment, because now we only think: o col cazzo o con le emozioni soggettive, o peggio col culo dal quale fuoriesce il peggio del nostro egocentrismo e del nostro cieco narcisismo patologico, quello che ci porta a rivendicare i diritti e a rigettare i doveri, sino al tentativo, grazie a Dio naufragato per adesso in Italia, di usare la legge per combattere come reato la legittima opinione di chi non la pensa come te — mi riferisco al felice e benedetto naufragio del Disegno di legge Zan, sul quale Padre Ivano Liguori e io scrivemmo il libro From Prozan to Prozac —, quindi perseguendo chi osa dire e sostenere che un figlio può nascere solo da un uomo e da una donna che sono padre e madre, che due omosessuali non possono comprarsi un bambino da un utero in affitto o che due donne lesbiche non possono programmare con egoismo luciferino la nascita di un orfano con il ricorso all’inseminazione artificiale rivendicando di essere riconosciute entrambe dalla legge come legittimi genitori. It is early said that this generation, degenerate daughter of digital illiteracy, devoid of historical memory and of that same cerebral memory exercised, useful to make us remember at least the phone number of our parents, non dovrebbe mai permettersi, not even as a joke or as a joke to paradoxes, to make fun of the glorious Middle Ages, marking it as an era of the "dark ages".

In questa narrazione sono ricorso quattro volte alla parola “dick”, almost as if I could not express myself without certain splashes of color, which I can do very well. What to say: in questi momenti di desolazione uno schizzo di colore acceso lasciatelo pure a questo povero prete alle soglie dei sessant’anni, so that everyone can enjoy their fun. Al lemma “cazzo” si unisce anche quell’altra bella frase idiomatica di … “notorie teste di cazzo”, ossia l’esercito sconfinato di coloro che non capiscono un emerito cazzo di ciò che hai scritto, or the deep way, volendo anche scientificamente pertinente in cui l’hai scritto, a ben considerare che ormai, giunti nel fondo del barile, non ci resta altro che la provocazione. So, the idiomatic and homonymous cock heads, they fossilize only on this word, dopodiché bigotti, pinzochere e sedicenti cattolici si indignano verso il prete volgare, il tutto corredato con lezioni di stile date con un moralismo da fare invidia ai calvinisti americani del Seicento da parte di quei gai personaggi che si scandalizzano con profonda indignazione dinanzi al richiamo poetico e provocatorio alla parola “dick”, salvo però prenderlo allegramente e legittimamente nel culo e rivendicando poco dopo il “sacro diritto” all’acquisto di un figlio comprato da un utero in affitto. E questo che cosa vuol dire? Per caso vuol dire che attraverso il coito anale e la sodomia uno dei due uomini non può rimanere incinta, al punto da avere bisogno di un utero a pagamento? Ma quanto ingrata e cattiva è stata la natura, quindi correggiamola a colpi di lobby LGBT.

This noble term it was much loved and used by the Supreme Pontiff Benedict XIV [Bologna 1675 - Rome 1758], nee Prospero Lambertini, bolognese. With usual frequency the Augustus Pontiff indulged in very colorful expressions, starting from his first appearance before the crowd exulted after his election to the sacred throne. It was in fact on that occasion that, seeing that large crowd gathered in the square of the papal arcibasilica of San Pietro, he said in a low voice to the prelate next to him: "And all these people, as a campa?». The prelate, that he was no less and that he had deep knowledge of the newly elected, He answered: «... Campania by pulling it in the ass with each other». The Pontiff replies: "... yes! Then there is us, that instead we pull it in the ass at all!». Afterwards, within the Roman curia, several times aroused amazement and perplexity that he used to intercalate saying "shit!». Until the August Pontiff appointed an assistant to his room, Monsignor Teodoro Boccapaduli, to discreetly pull it for the robe, if he started with certain colorful phrasebooks. Until once the waiters arrived early to warn the Supreme Pontiff that a fire had broken out in Rome in the Monti district during the night. To which he blurted out: "Shit! And there have been deaths?». Monsignor tugged him discreetly. After the waiters had detailed the seriousness of the fact, the Supreme Pontiff replied bursting: "Shit!». And Monsignor tugs him again. At that point Benedict XIV, saddened by that grave report, he turns towards the prelate bursting out: "Boccapaduli.", you broke my balls: dick, dick, dick! Ah, I want to sanctify this word. Indeed I want to promulgate one fucking bubble, to grant plenary indulgence to those who pronounce this word ten times a day ".

There would be much to tell about this great figure, ma ci limitiamo a dire in breve che il Sommo Pontefice Benedetto XIV fu un attento amministratore in favore dei bisogni del popolo e delle attività caritative, at the same time he was a great promoter of the arts and sciences. With acute political ability, but at the same time with a great pastoral spirit, he was tireless guardian of the faith, promoter of the missions for the new evangelization and at the same time a man of profound culture and open-mindedness, enough to maintain intense correspondence with figures very distant from the Catholic world, from Protestant rulers to the father himself of modern anti-clericalism: François-Marie Arouet, known under the pseudonym of Voltaire.

Today the children of this great dark century I am not able, at the height of their digital illiteracy, to laugh about Novel of Friar Cipolla, as did the illiterate wit of the medieval countryside. Nor am I able to understand a great man of faith, so free from any form of internal and external vulgarity, to be able to affirm with true candor: «… se non la smettete di rompermi i coglioni, I promulgate a fucking bubble, con tanto di indulgenza plenaria per chi pronuncia questa parola dieci volte al giorno».

Let's ask ourselves: but who they are, the real vulgar ones? I'll explain it right away: are certain Catholics who send images created with photoshop, depicting a Jesus Christ on the cross sacrilegiously gayzzato, with an androgynous face and a languid expression that does not recall the mystery of passion at all, rather a girl awaiting coitus. And in front of these blasphemous images, I who have an eye accustomed to Cimabue, to Fra Angelico, to Filippino Lippi from Prato, to Titian, Giotto and Michelangelo, to follow with Guido Reni and Cararavaggio, until the most recent wonderful crucifixion by Salvador Dalì, maybe I shouldn't blurt: pseudo-fucking Catholics, you broke my balls, breed of digital blasphemers! Christ the Lord was not a languid child since photoshop with the androgynous air affixed to the cross, he was true God and true man, for this he made the cross terribly true, as true as God and true man was.

I figli della moderna èra digitale di questo secolo buio, dopo avere letta mezza pagina e scorso in due minuti tutto il testo, individuata poi la parolina sulla quale polemizzare, in this case the mythical word "fuck", have already sent outraged messages, quasi ci tenessero, al di sopra d’ogni altra cosa, to fully demonstrate how much they have not really understood a fucking emeritus. And while totally indifferent I let them get busy, place that for years and years, at this point, they can't even break my balls anymore, I turn to the few who can laugh at all the modern Onion Friars who have a prerogative, however: to get more money out of your pocket than a snake charmer can stun an Indian cobra. Indeed, just tell the Boeotian people, that of pseudo-Catholicism built on the contempt of reason and erected on subjective sentimental emotions, che il tal giorno nel tal luogo mi è apparsa la Madonna che mi ha dato un messaggio. Then, se detto questo si aggiungerà anche che la Madonna mi ha rivelato un segreto terrificante che sconvolgerà l’umanità … ecco i portafogli aprirsi come fisarmoniche. What Our Lady said to me appearing? Suffice it to say: “… la Madonna mi ha detto di dirvi che lei vi ama e che vi invita a essere buoni e a pregare …”. A quel punto le fisarmoniche si allargheranno ancora di più, if the great morbid itch of the terrifying secret joins the silly banality of the message, because at that point the accordions will explode, until the real rain of money. And we want to talk, perlomeno per breve inciso, dell’esercito di sedicenti figli e figlie spirituali di San Pio da Pietrelcina, ultra specializzati a far uscire soldi a pioggia, diversi dei quali appena sessantenni?

The truth will set us free, as stated in our motto taken from the Gospel of the Blessed Apostle John [cf. GV 8,32], but at the same time we know how much the truth has never paid anyone, in particular when we say those truths that nobody wants to be told, nor when it refers to reality, escape from emotions and fatuous sentimentality. Truth does not pay off when one insists on it I can only believe that faith moves on reason and requires reasoning and a deep critical and analytical sense, perché in questa era dell’analfabetismo digitale agire a questo modo è un’autentica politica al suicidio, to well consider that today, people who say they are Catholic, want irrational emotions, sensational elements, so much sterile controversy and so futile gossip. And who offers these products, will always be paid in any way. Mentre chi, before all this, sbotta dicendo “eccheccazzo!”, è solo un volgare, not to say: a priest's shame.

the Island of Patmos, 17 June 2023

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Father Ariel's new book has just been released and is being distributed, you can buy it by clicking directly on the cover image or by entering our bookshop WHO

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