Medieval illumination depicting a crowned figure (likely a saint) defeating a demon while people pray.
Representation of Hildegard's Vision of the Church Giving Birth to the Antichrist, While Simultaneously Remaining the Church, as Christ Promised. The Vision Depicts the Battle That Rages Even Within the Church.
By Raniero da Fiore*
The episcopal consecrations of the FSSPX (SSPX) and the entire argumentation for or against these consecrations have once again brought an old ecclesiological conviction of the followers of Lefebvre into focus: the contrast between an alleged "Eternal Rome," traditional and orthodox, and a "Conciliar Rome," modernist and heretical. This way of speaking is difficult to reconcile with Catholic doctrine on the unity and indestructibility of the Church. No matter how great and deep the current crisis may be, it requires true theological acrobatics to justify it. Nevertheless, this notion is not entirely without foundation. Its strength stems from a true insight that, unfortunately, all too often remains trapped in an inadequate doctrinal construction.
This insight consists in recognizing that the final crisis of the Church will not come exclusively from the outside. The mystery of iniquity will not manifest itself only in the form of an external persecution, a pagan emperor, or a power hostile to Christianity. Biblical and patristic tradition has always considered the possibility of an internal corruption, a trial that would strike the Church itself in its historical existence.
Many contemporary Catholics seem uncomfortable with this perspective. Accustomed since the Council of Trent to a defensive apologetics that equates any reference to an ecclesial apostasy with an approach to Protestantism, they prefer to ignore the problem rather than confront it. But a question does not disappear by being ignored. On the one hand, Christ promised that the gates of hell will not prevail against His Church. On the other hand, Saint Paul announced a great apostasy and the appearance of the man of lawlessness (ho anthrōpos tēs anomias) before the end of time. Both statements belong to revelation, and neither may be sacrificed for the sake of the other.
Father Julio Meinvielle [^1] formulated this tension through the well-known image of a "Church of Promises" and a "Church of Propaganda." The first remains founded on the infallible word of Christ; the second designates that historical dimension of the Church in which human miseries, compromises, ambitions, and infidelities become visible. The importance of this insight lies in the fact that it does not attempt to solve the problem through an artificial separation between a true and a false church. The mystery remains open precisely because both dimensions coexist within the same visible reality.
Saint Hildegard and the "Lutheran Captivity"
Here, one of the most extraordinary figures of Christendom gains special significance. Saint Hildegard of Bingen was neither an insignificant visionary nor a popular prophetess of dubious reputation. A Benedictine abbess, advisor to emperors and popes, author of theological, scientific, and musical works, she occupied a prominent position in the intellectual and religious life of the 12th century.
Despite her immense authority throughout Christendom, her figure was used by Lutherans during the Reformation to attack the papacy: in fact, some of her exegetical visions pointed to a deep connection between the Church and the Antichrist. This brought her centuries of marginalization, during which her work was set aside as suspect. It was not until Pope Benedict XVI in 2012 that she was freed from this "Lutheran captivity" by officially enrolling her in the catalog of saints and elevating her to a Doctor of the Church.
It is worth pausing for a moment on this point, because it is not merely an honorary distinction. By this, the Church recognizes in a person a special doctrinal significance that deserves to be presented to the faithful. It is hard to imagine that Joseph Ratzinger, one of the greatest modern experts on the patristic and medieval tradition, would not have known one of the most famous and disturbing visions of the Scivias: that in which the Antichrist is born from the Church.
This should give pause especially to those who diagnose "anti-papism" with the same certainty that medieval doctors diagnosed imbalances in bodily humors. The idea that the Church will go through a profound eschatological crisis arising from its very interior does not come from some traditionalist blog, conspiracy theory, or modern apocalyptic exaggeration. It belongs to the work of a Doctor of the Church whose teaching Benedict XVI explicitly recommended to all Christians. Unfortunately, the Lefebvrian world cannot rely too heavily on Hildegard precisely here, where it would benefit them most, because the authority of this saint depends on canonizations whose validity they usually question.
The Vision of the Scivias
The vision that interests us is found in the third book of the Scivias, which is dedicated to salvation history and the consummation of time. Hildegard beholds a massive female figure representing the Church. The woman appears crowned and glorious, clothed in celestial dignity.
But as the gaze moves down from the navel, the image begins to change. There appear wounds, scales, blemishes, and disfigurements that symbolize the accumulated sins of the children of the Church throughout history. And then something monstrous happens. Right at that spot "where the woman is distinguished," a monstrous black head with fiery eyes, donkey's ears, and lion-like jaws arises: the man of lawlessness.
The miniature that accompanies the vision created under Hildegard's own supervision and shown at the beginning of this article possesses an even greater visual power. The Ecclesia remains crowned, she continues to sit on her throne, she remains the Bride of Christ. But from her very bowels arises the monstrous head of the Antichrist.
The Antichrist does not appear as a reality completely outside the Church. This observation is crucial because it allows us to understand simultaneously the validity and the error of certain contemporary analyses from traditional circles. Their validity lies in recognizing that the crisis can mature in the very heart of the visible Church. Their error, however, shows itself where they try to explain this insight through an all too simple separation between two different churches: Eternal Rome versus Conciliar Rome.
This solution possesses the appearance of an irresistible clarity, but ultimately introduces a way of thinking that is profoundly foreign to Catholic tradition. Classical Protestantism proceeded in exactly this way by identifying the Antichrist with the papacy. Wherever it perceived corruption, it concluded that the true Church must be found elsewhere. Hildegard's vision is far more uncomfortable because it prevents such a simplification. The crowned woman remains the Church, and the wounds do not turn her into something else. The corruption does not give birth to a second church; the Antichrist emerges from her wounds without destroying her identity.
The Dramatic Proximity to Evil
Father Leonardo Castellani[^2] also recognized the importance of this problem. In his work  Cristo vuelve o no vuelve? (Is Christ Returning or Not?), he emphasized the need to regain certain traditional insights that modern exegesis had abandoned because it suspected them of Protestantism. Especially that insight which allows us to understand the dramatic relationship between the historical Church and the figure of the Great Harlot:
"This would be the truth that Protestantism has held captive and which we must liberate like Lucia Miranda." (2004, 30)[^3]
Not because both realities could easily be identified with each other, but because the history of the Church can be mysteriously drawn into a shocking proximity to that very thing which opposes Christ.
Castellania’s image of Dulcinea helps to understand this mystery. Although the Argentine priest uses her as a symbol for the homeland, she can certainly also be understood in connection with the Church of the last times: at once corrupted and turned into a harlot, yet at the same time innocent and holy. The temptation of a bad theology is always to select one of the two aspects and deny the other. A certain anti-intellectualist tendency, which also characterizes the SSPX, might perhaps lie in the background of this attitude. Nevertheless, the Catholic exegetical tradition forces us to consider both realities simultaneously.
Fundamentally, the entire history of salvation seems to develop according to the same oscillating, cyclical movement: a sort of succession of purifications and catastrophes that escalates further and further, as Tolkien teaches in his letters. Adam receives paradise and falls, together with his descendants, who must be purified by the flood. The sons of Noah, preserved in the ark, eventually repeat those actions and are scattered at Babel. Finally, and in a particularly exemplary way, God founds Israel, the heir of the covenant, and this people ends up crucifying the Messiah. Those to whom God grants the greatest privileges become the primary actors in the greatest betrayals.
Castellani writes in his Apocalypse of Saint John:
"When Christ came, times were confusing and sad. Religion was corrupt in its leaders and consequently also in a part of the people. 'Do everything they tell you, but do not act according to their deeds.' Christ therefore did not leave the synagogue, but allowed Himself to be killed in order to purify it. From His pierced heart arose the Church, which was originally Jewish. When Christ returns, the situation will be similar. Only Pharisaism, the sin against the Holy Spirit, is capable of producing that great apostasy which He predicted: 'the greatest tribulation since the flood' will be brought about by the worst corruption, the corruption of the best." (2005, 209)
From this perspective, a final crisis arising within the Church does not represent an anomaly, but rather the consummation (usque ad summum) of a dynamic that runs through the entire history of salvation.
The Coexistence of Two Dimensions
Yet precisely here we also find the insurmountable boundary of this exegetical tradition. Neither Hildegard nor Castellani nor Meinvielle ever teach that the gates of hell will prevail against the Church. Nor do they claim that the Church will disappear and withdraw into a community of the pure ("Christ therefore did not leave the synagogue"). Even less do they imagine a sort of true church that persists exclusively in small groups of resistance fighters who go so far as to call themselves the "Ark of Salvation," as Father Benoît de Jorna of the SSPX has written.
It is precisely here that Meinvielle's insight gains its full depth. The Church of Promises and the Church of Propaganda do not form two different societies. They do not possess two hierarchies, do not have two popes, and do not exist as separate realities. Both remain mysteriously united under the same visible head.
The same pope who presides over the indestructible Church can simultaneously find himself at the head of an ecclesial structure permeated by errors, compromises, and confusion, thereby favoring the progress of the mystery of iniquity. Precisely therein lies the tragedy: both dimensions coexist.
*Raniero da Fiore, pseudonym, author for the blog Caminante Wanderer. Translation/Footnotes: Giuseppe Nardi Image: Wikicommons/Rupertsberger Scivias-Kodex
[^1]: Julio Meinvielle (1905–1973) was an Argentine priest, philosopher, theologian, and publicist, best known as a representative of a strongly Thomistic Catholic thought. His focus was on the question of which historical forces pave the way for an anti-Christian order. [^2]: Father Leonardo Castellani (1899–1981) was an Argentine Jesuit, priest, writer, theologian, philosopher, and publicist. He is considered one of the most eccentric Catholic thinkers of the 20th century in Argentina. He dealt with the question of how the figure of the Antichrist is to be understood from the biblical texts. [^3]: Lucia Miranda is a legendary figure from early Spanish history of Argentina. She is said to have come to the Rio de la Plata with the first Spanish expedition in 1527 and to have been captured by indigenous people during their attack on the first Spanish settlement, Sancti Spiritus, in 1529.
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