If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing (1 Cor. 13:1-3).
I'm not saying (and neither is St. Paul, nor the Church) that it's okay to be disobedient; that we ought to have a 1970s-style "I'm okay, you're okay" mentality. All pridefulness, including mine, wounds the Body of Christ, His Church. Us. And I will always, with God's help, stand against error, endeavoring to write and teach in faithful submission to the Holy Father and to the Magisterium.
But I'm not fit to cast stones or make assumptions about motivation, character, and most especially the state of another person's soul. I have had it with this conceptual separation from members of my family who also love with zeal, but might not see things the way I do.
I am parched and yearning for the only drink that can satisfy, to follow Jesus deeper into love, with all my inadequacies, depending totally on His grace. I've got to keep struggling to love all of my Catholic family. To let their indelibly, authentically Christian souls and the presence of the Great, Triune God who literally dwells in them, outweigh whatever issues threaten to divide us.
Because love is the thing.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love (1 Cor. 13:13).
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