@Duran
You wear your scorn like a
badge of honor, and yet it betrays you. You masquerade as some disillusioned
prophet above all religion, but your rhetoric reeks of something older,
smaller, and far more predictable: bitterness dressed up as boldness, cruelty packaged
as clarity, and a confused theology you inherited and never transcended. You
say you're not mocking the Pope, not mocking the dead, not mocking grief — and
yet your words twist and turn with a smug satisfaction that speaks for itself.
You can’t hide behind semantic gymnastics. Your shirt idea, your tone, your
selective outrage — they don’t reveal some daring insight. They reveal a man
sneering at sorrow while calling it “truth.”
You claim you “embrace
death.” No, you trivialize it. There’s a difference between hope and mockery,
between eternal perspective and cheap provocation. The shirt comment wasn’t a
theological inquiry; it was an emotional grenade — lobbed at Catholics because
you despise not only their Church but their very right to mourn. You didn’t
ask, “Why do Catholics mourn if they believe in heaven?” You laughed, smirked,
and prepared your T-shirt punchline in a grotesque attempt to paint yourself as
profound. But it wasn’t profound — it was petty. And now, caught in the
backlash of your own tastelessness, you’re scrambling to rewrite the narrative.
You weren’t mocking? Please. Every word drips with condescension, not
conviction.
You’re fixated on the false
dichotomy: if someone believes in heaven, mourning is hypocrisy. What nonsense.
Christ Himself, who knew better than anyone the reality of resurrection, wept
at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35). Was Jesus confused? Emotionally
inconsistent? Or are you just unable to grasp that love still aches even when
hope endures? Mourning is not unbelief. It is the soul’s cry in the space
between time and eternity. And to weaponize that moment with sarcasm and
mockery isn’t spiritual clarity — it’s spiritual callousness.
Then you ask why Pope
Francis didn’t say, “Don’t mourn me.” That’s not a serious question. It’s a
snide jab, rooted in your inability to comprehend Catholic theology or human
dignity. A funeral is not “wasting money” — it’s honoring a life, a soul, a
body that was fearfully and wonderfully made. We are not Gnostics who discard
the body like trash. We believe in the resurrection of the flesh — that the
same body will rise again. Cremation, burial, vigils, rites — they all testify
to the Christian hope that death does not have the final word. What you see as
pomp, we see as proclamation: “I believe in the resurrection of the body and
life everlasting.”
And your jab at “Karol
watching with Jorge” as some kind of postmortem vanity contest? That’s not
clever. That’s cheap. It doesn’t even rise to the level of satire. It’s the
kind of adolescent snark you’d expect in a YouTube comment section, not from
someone claiming to represent truth.
You quote Revelation like
it’s your personal sword, yet you mutilate the text through Watchtower-style
atomization — yanking verses out of context, flattening apocalyptic literature
into literal checklists, as though the Book of Revelation is a procedural
manual for judging popes. Your entire theology is a patchwork of proof-texts
and paranoia. You reject the papacy, the communion of saints, the visible
Church — and yet you presume to speak with authority about the resurrection,
the elect, and the eschaton. What is your authority? Who sent you? Where is
your Church? Christ never promised private visions to anonymous internet
critics. He built a Church — a visible, historical, apostolic Church (Matthew
16:18) — and whether you admit it or not, that Church still stands, and you are
raging against it in vain.
Your theology of the soul
and death is a pale imitation of ancient errors. Ecclesiastes 9:5 doesn’t mean
what you think it means. It’s poetic wisdom literature, not a treatise on the
afterlife. The same book says, “Better is a live dog than a dead lion” — shall
we build our entire eschatology on that too? You cite Genesis and Luke like
they collapse into your materialist view of the soul, yet ignore the very
passages that obliterate your claims. Did you read Luke 23:43? “Today you will
be with me in Paradise.” Or Philippians 1:23, where Paul desires “to depart and
be with Christ”? Or 2 Corinthians 5:8 — “to be absent from the body is to be
present with the Lord”? Your theology can’t handle these. So you dodge, dilute,
or dismiss.
You demand to know if Jorge
is thinking, feeling, remembering — as if you could comprehend the mystery of
glorification or reduce heaven to your checklist. Are the saints disembodied?
Yes — for now. Are they conscious? Absolutely. The Transfiguration
wasn’t Jesus talking to corpses. The souls under the altar in Revelation speak
and cry out. The rich man in Luke 16 sees, feels, pleads.
These aren’t poetic illusions — they’re divine glimpses into a reality you mock
because it doesn’t fit your framework. You scoff at the very hope that gives
the martyrs their courage.
You ask whether saints in
heaven think, feel, remember, and speak—and you assume the answer must be no,
because “dead people” can’t do these things. But you’ve already made your first
and fatal mistake: you confuse the death of the body with the extinction of the
person. This is pure materialism with religious makeup—a reheated Watchtower
doctrine dressed up in biblical citations taken out of context. The Catholic
Church, in fidelity to Scripture and the earliest Christian witness, utterly
rejects this annihilationist myth.
You demand to know if the
saints are “alive” in heaven. The answer is a resounding yes—just as Jesus
Himself says: “God is not the God of the dead, but of the living, for to Him
all are alive” (Luke 20:38). That includes Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and yes—every
saint and martyr who has departed this life in friendship with God. Your appeal
to Ecclesiastes 9:5 falls flat, because it reflects the limited Old Covenant
understanding of death before the full revelation of the afterlife in
Christ. The progressive unfolding of Scripture means that isolated Old
Testament verses must be interpreted in light of the New, not weaponized
against it.
You try to bury Revelation
6 under speculation and chronology games, as if this vision of the martyrs
“under the altar” crying out to God isn’t a clear affirmation of their conscious
existence. They speak, they remember, they desire justice. That’s not
poetic corpse-language—it’s a vivid depiction of the souls of the righteous in
heaven before the resurrection. They are already “with Christ,” as Paul
confidently expected to be when he said, “I desire to depart and be with
Christ, for that is far better” (Phil 1:23). You ignore this verse. You ignore
2 Corinthians 5:8, where Paul says he would “prefer to be away from the body
and at home with the Lord.” The disembodied soul is with Christ—not
extinguished, not unconscious.
You obsess over Revelation
20 and try to reduce the “first resurrection” to a hyperliteral, future-only
event that excludes anyone not martyred by the Beast. But this is flat-footed
exegesis. The Church Fathers understood the “first resurrection” in multiple
senses—baptism, martyrdom, and the entrance of the soul into glory before the
bodily resurrection. Your framework is artificial, arbitrary, and completely
ignores how symbolic apocalyptic literature functions.
And your mocking of
Catholic saints and popes is as misplaced as it is bitter. You demand to know
whether the popes are “in heaven” and whether they’re thinking or feeling. But
you conveniently forget that Christ’s mercy is not restricted to those who
suffer martyrdom under some 8th king. Revelation is not a checklist for
Watchtower-style gatekeeping—it is a vision of God’s ultimate triumph through
the Lamb who was slain. Your entire argument collapses when you realize that
the Church never taught what you pretend to refute. Martyrdom is one way into
glory. So is dying in sanctifying grace. You dismiss the entire sacramental
economy of Christ and then pretend we are the ones inventing doctrines.
Then there’s the grotesque
twisting of Genesis and Luke to prove your annihilationist thesis. Rachel
breathes her last and dies. Of course. So did Jesus. But death in the flesh is
not the end of the soul. Christ’s own words to the penitent thief—"Today
you will be with me in paradise"—demolish your position. And don’t pretend
that "today" just means "I’m saying this now." That’s a
pathetic dodge, and you know it. Jesus didn’t go to Gehenna; He descended to Sheol,
Hades—not the grave, but the realm of the dead, where the righteous
awaited redemption. That’s why 1 Peter 3:19 says He preached to the spirits in
prison. That’s why Ephesians 4 says He descended into “the lower parts of the
earth” before ascending. He harrowed hell—not the hell of the damned, but the Limbus
Patrum, Abraham’s Bosom, where the faithful of the Old Covenant waited for
the gates of heaven to open.
And yes, “He led captivity
captive” (Eph 4:8). He brought the righteous into heaven—bodyless souls,
awaiting the resurrection. Paradise is now heaven. But before Christ’s victory,
it was the resting place of the just. So when you ask, “Do the saints think,
feel, remember, and speak?”—the answer is yes, because they are alive in
Christ. As Jesus said: “Everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die”
(John 11:26).
You’ve exchanged the glory
of the Gospel for a religion of silence and sleep. You treat the soul as an
engine that shuts down at death rather than a spirit that returns to God
(Ecclesiastes 12:7). You reduce the promise of eternal life to a kind of
suspended animation, pretending that this fits the full witness of Scripture.
But Scripture itself says otherwise.
You’re not following
Christ. You’re following the leftovers of a failed apocalyptic sect that taught
1914 as Gospel and couldn’t decide if the anointed were in heaven or asleep.
And now you recycle its ruins into a new theology of oblivion, and call it
“biblical.”
It’s not. It’s
impoverished. And it’s wrong.
You sneer at the papacy,
rattling off death dates like they disprove something — as if the mortality of
popes invalidates their office. So what? Even Peter died. So did Paul. So did
every apostle except John. Are they disqualified too? No — they are glorified.
That’s the scandal of your theology: you believe in annihilation, in soul
sleep, in some cold void where the saints are mute and the Church is dead. But
the Catholic Church, despite all the hatred hurled at her, stands and sings: “I
believe in the resurrection of the body and the life of the world to come.”
Your vision is small, cold,
dead. Ours is living, full, and cosmic. You mock our mourning because you
cannot understand our hope. You dismiss the papacy because you fear the Church
Christ founded. You toss out Scripture when it rebukes you and cling to it when
it suits your polemic. You quote the Word of God while rejecting the Body of
Christ.
And now, when confronted,
you call names. You mock grief. You redefine insults as inquiries. But we see
through it. All of it.
You call the Bible your
weapon. But the Word is not a tool of contempt — it is a sword of the
Spirit, which cuts the heart and brings life. You wield it like
Cain with a stone — not to proclaim truth, but to bludgeon brothers.
You’re not defending truth.
You’re attacking love.
You’re not a prophet.
You’re a parody.
And until you learn that truth
without charity is a lie in disguise, and that holiness without love
is just hatred in robes, you will remain trapped in the very darkness you
claim to condemn.
The light has come into the
world. But you have shut your eyes — and then laugh at those who weep.
Christ wept.
And that tells me more
about who He is — and who you are not — than anything you’ve written.
