Now that Sant Vicent Ferrer has been celebrated, that Dominican priest who preached and spread the Valencian language throughout half of Europe and three quarters of Catholicism, from his patronage in Teulada-Moraira where his sister Constança lived, the usual bad thoughts come to me again, given what seen and heard what was heard. It will be this happy polarization... I am more about pollination, things from the paradise of the Marina Alta.
Antonio Machado recited it with success and salt: “Miserable Castile, yesterday dominating, wrapped in its rags, despises everything it ignores.” That Spain of yours that Cecilia sang where the PSOE does not dare to have a plural State or the PPCV paints less on the national scene than the beautiful Murcia. Oh, President Puig as the last federalist Mohican... This country of ours needs to rethink, even reset itself. If we are and believe ourselves to be a country of nations, let it be done. Or let us succumb to this long night.
And all these effluvia are due to the latest and crude campaign of the usual ones, those of the ignorant rags that they despise everywhere, of the myopic supremacists in lack of culture, those in morning coats and mantillas inciting themselves to beat their chests while they shout against the Archbishop of Valencia Enrique Benavent. The unconfessable sin of our bishop, editing the text of the Gospels in Valencian, the language of this town and this diocese. An original sin of the Valencian church, the marginalization of liturgical use in Valencian, which 317 years after the defeat of Almansa is remedied.
This thing about claiming to be a Valencianist always in Spanish and if you dare to live in Valencian you are rejected as a perfidious Catalanist, well of course not. And we have been like this for half a century with this insufferable and perverse catalineta. It must be a lethal weapon of mass linguistic destruction, defending the Valencian language only in Spanish so as not to dirty it. Handing out Valencian letters of marque to those who ignore our own identity. Deu meu…
“Neither God, nor the Country nor the Family are goods that are chosen. We belong to them and we must serve them faithfully until death,” said Argentine Jordán Bruno Genta, a nationalist and Catholic like me. “The good Catholic, precisely by virtue of the doctrine of the Church, is therefore the best citizen, lover of his country,” said Pope Pius XI in his encyclical Divini illius magistri. “By natural law we are obliged to especially love and defend the society into which we were born, in such a way that every good citizen is ready to face even the same death for his country,” said Pope Leo XIII in his encyclical Sapientiae Christianae.
“Patriotism means loving everything that is patriotic: its history, its traditions, the language and its geographical configuration. The country is a common good of all citizens and, as such, also a great duty. As is the case with the family, the nation and the homeland also continue to be irreplaceable realities,” said Pope John Paul II in his book Memory and Identity. What vice presidents dressed in lights, what real academics of the inquisition or tango take good note, or at least stop cheering, trolling and muddying. For the love of Déu!
