Christ is King of All . . . Even The Holidays

So Paul, standing in the middle of the Areopagus, said: “Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious.  For as I passed along, and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription, “To an unknown god.”  What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you.” (Acts 17:22-23)

     This coming Monday, November 1st, is the feast of All Saints Day, which means that Halloween will soon be past. It also means that Christmas soon will be coming, and not only are the geese getting fat but the doubters and mockers will be getting ready for another round of “demystifying” the Incarnation by pointing out (or making up) connections to pagan holidays and practices . . . and then we’ll go through it all again at Easter time. This seems a good time to take a few moments to reflect on the holiday (i.e., Holy Day) coming up in a day or two (and, even more to the point, its vigil Sunday night), and to look forward to those celebrations that are to come.

Good Cop, Bad Cop     

    First, a little background. Many, many years ago, in the days of my neo-pagan youth, I was intrigued to learn that the Christians, as they converted previously heathen peoples, intentionally built churches on what had been pagan holy sites: the Church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva in Rome, for instance, was built on the ruins of what was believed to have been a temple dedicated to the Roman goddess of wisdom.  In the same way, countless churches were built adjacent to, on top of, or even inside ancient circles and standing stones in Northwestern Europe. A whole series of these churches were dedicated to St. Michael the Archangel, scourge of Satan.  The St. Michael churches (the most famous of which is the spectacular Mont St. Michel in Normandy, France) were typically situated on the hill tops that were considered especially sacred by the pre-Christian inhabitants.

Church built in neolithic stone circle in Midmar, Aberdeenshire, Scotland (photo from https://online.aberdeenshire.gov.uk/)

     There was a two-fold purpose to this practice of co-opting heathen holy places, an ancient precursor to what we today call the “Bad Cop, Good Cop” routine (wherein the suspect confesses to the Nice Policeman, the Good Cop, hoping to earn his protection from the Mean Policeman, or Bad Cop).  On the one hand, we have a concrete sign of the triumph of Christianity, a church built sometimes on the very foundations of a previous pagan establishment, sending as clear a message as one of those paintings of St. Michael with his foot on the Devil’s neck.  Consider also the very name of the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva: “Holy Mary over Minerva”.  The name does not simply tell us which building previously occupied the site, it boldly proclaims the victory of the Mother of God over the pagan goddess.  This is the “Bad Cop” part of the equation.

     We can see the “Good Cop” side of the coin in the passage from the Acts of the Apostles at the top of the page.  St. Paul commends the Athenians for their religious devotion, which may well be an expression of a real desire to find God, but directed toward false divinities.  Rather than condemn the Athenians for idolatry, he seeks to redirect their piety toward the True Lord.  In much the same spirit, the Church seems to have concluded that previously idolatrous peoples would accept conversion more easily if they could worship the True God in the same places that they and their ancestors had been accustomed to commune with the old gods.  We can see this as an example of “Baptizing the World”, of sanctifying what is good or neutral in the outside world, and using it to build up the Kingdom of God.  And in cases such as this, how powerful must the effect have been when the new Christians had a tangible sign, in the old familiar place, of the Victory of Christ?

Our Battle Is Not with Flesh And Blood

From the Nuremberg Chronicles, 1493, workshop of Michael Wolgemut

     This is not to say that we should disregard those Christians who warn about the demonic aspects of Halloween: when Christ is out of the picture, all that’s left is death and corruption, and the powers of darkness are left in possession of the field of battle.  I have noticed over the past couple of decades that, as the wider culture becomes less Christian, observances of Halloween are becoming both more elaborate and more grotesque.  And there is always a risk when we set out to “Baptize the World” that, if we are not properly fortified and sustained by the Faith and the Sacraments, the World may instead have its way with us.  We should not, however, let the Devil have the last word.

Our task is first to “put on the full armor of God” (see Ephesians 6:3-17) and then set out to reclaim Halloween for Christ, rather than surrender it to the hosts of the Evil One.

     It is good to bear all this in mind as we approach the so-called “holiday season” (that is, what a more Christian era called the “Christmas Season”).  We will hear a chorus of claims that our Feast of the Nativity is really “only” a thinly disguised form of the Roman Saturnalia, or some Mithraic feast, or some such other nonsense (never mind that the Birth of Jesus really happened, and these other things are based on fantasies).  Even if it’s true (and most such claims are highly debatable) that Christmas took it’s gift-giving from Saturnalia, or Christmas trees from some pagan Germanic Yule tradition, and so on, well, so what?  If these things ever did have pagan origins, now they are in the service of Christ, who “will reign until he puts all enemies under his feet” (1 Corinthians 15:25).  So, be of good cheer, and when the time comes, throw another Yule Log on the fire, because Christ is King of all.

Featured image top of page: Mont St. Michel, from http://www.francejourneys.com/.

For Such A Time As This: Powers, Principalities & The Culture Wars

The Culture Wars

     I really don’t want to be a culture warrior.  I’m willing to bet that you probably don’t want to be one, either.  It seems, however, that there’s no hiding from the escalating clash of Weltanschauungen that’s invading every corner of our culture. Formerly neutral spaces, from bakeries to professional sports, have become battle fields. There’s no just-minding-your-own-business in the brave new world that has been thrust upon us: we must all march in the Pride Parade; we must testify to our racial guilt in a sort of nation-wide Stalinist show trial; we must all submit to an untested vaccine for a virus that poses virtually no serious threat to 99% of us, even those of us who have already had the dread illness and enjoy natural immunity.  We must all join in, enthusiastically, or else. The push is relentless, and there doesn’t seem to be any logical endpoint . . . and there doesn’t seem to be any reason behind it at all.

     It may feel like a dam has burst over the past couple of years, or that one of those enormous lagoons that collect hog waste has given way, drowning all the good and beautiful things in this world under a massive wave of . . . well, you know.  And while I believe it’s true that recent events have brought greater visibility to the very real conflict that’s raging throughout our society, the conflict itself has been there all along.  The culture war itself is only a surface manifestation of teh real war. It’s been with us from the very beginning, and it runs much, much deeper than we can imagine.

The Armor of God

      St. Paul discusses this same endless war in the sixth chapter of his Letter to the Ephesians.  I’ve briefly cited this passage in earlier posts, but I think it’s worth looking at it in greater length:

Put on the whole armor of God,that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.  For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the  powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places. Therefore take the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and having shod your feet with the equipment of the gospel of peace; besides all these, taking the shield of faith, with which you can quench all the flaming darts of the evil one.  And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Pray at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that utterance may be given me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak. –Ephesians 6:11-20

“Put on the whole armor of God,that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.” -Ephesians 6:11

St. George Fighting the Dragon by Raphael, 1505

   St. Paul’s explanation makes sense of the utter insanity that is currently reigning over our society: we are engaged in a Spiritual Battle, we collectively, and each one of us personally.  It has always been this way, and will be until Christ comes again in glory. The nature of the battle is constantly changing: for individual believers there is always a personal, internal struggle, but there is also a more external, public conflict which changes and ebbs and flows over time and in different places.  The so-called “Culture Wars” are simply the form this external conflict is taking in our day.

“Could it be . . . ?”

     If the cultural war is really spiritual warfare, then, who is the real antagonist?   This becomes tricky, not because we don’t know, but because saying so in our current climate is difficult.  Those of us of a certain age will remember the Flip Wilson Show.  One of the comedian’s most successful gags was a character called “Geraldine”, actually Wilson himself in none-too-convincing drag, whose most memorable laugh-line was “The devil made me do it!”  More recently, Dana Carvey’s “Church Lady” on Saturday Night Live always provoked uproarious laughter from the audience when she said “Could it be . . .(pregnant pause) . . . SATAN?!?”  For a long time now, the message in the popular culture has been that anyone who actually attributes anything to the Evil One is, well, ridiculous (interesting, by the way, that both of the examples above involve men dressed as women).  We are set up to be dismissed as unserious cranks if we see the hand of the Devil anywhere.     

Dana Carvery as “The Church Lady”

     There are some who are still willing to speak out, however.  Just a few years ago, one South American cleric described a law legalizing same sex marriage as “a move by the devil, looking to confuse and deceive all children of God” (interesting that this same cleric, who now has a rather prominent position in Rome, was more recently named “Person of the Year” by the gay magazine The Advocate).  Closer to home, I once heard a speaker on Catholic radio arguing that one reason why it’s so difficult to make any headway with those who have left the faith and are now clinging to new enthusiasms like gay marriage, global warming, Marxism, etc. is that those beliefs have taken on a religious significance for them, and are occupying the place reserved in our hearts for God. Those other things, of course, are poor substitutes indeed for the Real Thing, the One who made us for himself, as St. Augustine tells us, and to Whom we can say “our hearts are restless until they rest in You” (inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in Te). For just that reason they cling to their false spiritual consolations all the harder, in the unconscious hope that if they tighten their grip just a little bit more, they’ll feel fulfilled; but such things do not ultimately satisfy.  Those things in fact separate us from the one thing that can satisfy us, they divide us – and who is it who is called the Divider, in Greek ho Diabolos (ὁ διάβολος)? Could it be . . . ?  Who else, but Satan?

You’ve Gotta Serve Somebody

     None of us is immune to the temptations of the Great Divider. St. Ignatius of Loyola represented this internal battle as a conflict between the Spirit of Jesus and the Spirit of Satan, and pictured it as Two Standards, as in Roman battle standards, around which the armies of each Spirit gather.  When we follow the Standard of Jesus internally, we serve in his army out in the world as well, and so it is also the case of the other side. As St. Paul tells us, our battle is with “spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places”.   Having spent many years among the secularists I know that the  majority of those who serve in that camp are well-meaning, and honestly believe they are on the side of good and righteousness. True righteousness, however, as St. Paul tells us, is not something we create for ourselves, it’s part of the Armor of God. Without that Armor, without the “Gospel of Peace”, and without “all prayer and supplication” we will not “be able to withstand in the evil day.” When we separate ourselves from God, or don’t avail ourselves of all the spiritual arms with which he provides us, we are helpless against the wiles of the Divider.  We need to remember this in our interactions with those who are on the other side.  We need to speak the truth in love (Eph 4:15), and aim for the conversion of their hearts, and, ultimately, their redemption, not their destruction.     

     This mission of conversion is the reason that St. Paul asks that “utterance may be given me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains; that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak”. Jesus rallies an Army of Love around His Standard. That’s why we engage in the culture wars: not because we like brawling (see Eph. 4:15 above), and not to inflate our egos (Scripture is chock full of warnings about getting “puffed up”), but to win hearts and souls for Christ.

For Such A Time As This

Esther and Mordecai, by Aert de Gelder

     We are all called to action, and yet, as I said at the beginning, most of us would much rather just be left alone.  The Book of Esther, which provided the Scriptural Readings in last week’s Office of Readings, casts a revealing light  on this predicament.  The Jewish maiden Esther has been made queen by the Persian emperor Ahasuerus (either Xerxes or Artaxerxes).  At the same time, the evil counselor Haman has persuaded the emperor to kill all the Jewish inhabitants of his empire.  Her adopted father Mordecai asks her to intervene with the Ahasuerus on behalf of her people, but Esther is afraid of failure.  She tells Mordecai:

All the king’s servants and the people of the king’s provinces know that if any man or woman goes to the king inside the inner court without being called, there is but one law; all alike are to be put to death, except the one to whom the king holds out the golden scepter that he may live. And I have not been called to come in to the king these thirty days. (Esther 4:11)

Mordecai reminds her that her fate is not really in the king’s hands, but is and always has been in God’s hands:

“Think not that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews.  For if you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13-14)

     Esther has not become queen for her own sake, Modecai suggests, but precisely so that she’ll be in a position to save the Jewish people, all by God’s design. We all have likewise been consciously and intentionally put here by our Loving Father, in this exact time and place.  Yes, the times are evil, but who can say that each one of us has not been created for just such a time as this?   

Featured image top of page: Esther Before Ahasuerus, by Artemisia Gentileschi, c. 1630

Keep the “Hallowed” in Halloween

We are well into the season of Autumn, and here in Northern New England you can feel it and see it: cool days, cold nights, and bright flashes of colorful leaves set against deep blue skies. It’s not only the trees that herald the season: the retail stores, with a wide array of ghastly, ghoulish, and gory Halloween accessories on display, evoke plenty of color of their own.  Given all that, it’s not too early in the season for a Halloween rant.

   Let me hasten to add that I am not anti-Halloween on principle: I have defended the holiday in the past against the spurious charge that it is merely a remnant of our dark, pre-Christian, pagan past.  We do need to remember that whatever pagan elements it has picked up and baptized along the way, Halloween is really Christian in origin.  It started as part of a celebration of the Communion of Saints, but it is also a way in which believers can mock death and “the principalities, the powers, the world rulers of this present darkness, the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 6:12).  In making sport of the spawn of Satan we celebrate Christ’s Victory over Death (1 Corinthians 15:55-58) . . . that is, if we truly acknowledge the Lordship of Jesus Christ.

 The Temptation of Christ on the Mountain
by Duccio di Buoninsegna, 1308-1311

     Here, however, is where we start to run into trouble with contemporary Halloween celebrations: even if it is not primarily the product of pre-Christian paganism, what is the role of the holiday in a post-Christian society, a society that no longer acknowledges the Lordship of Christ?  I was reminded of the relevance of this question recently when I was in one of the aforementioned retail stores. I overheard a little boy who was admiring the creepy Halloween paraphernalia remark that, in his  house, Halloween was by far the most important holiday.  This observation was smilingly confirmed by his mother. I had to ask myself, what exactly was this family celebrating? After all, whatever its Christian origin, All Hallow’s Eve is a mere afterthought compared to the great feasts of Easter, Christmas, and Epiphany (and any number of lesser celebrations), observances that go straight to the heart of the Mystery of Christ.  Anybody who doesn’t give precedence to those holidays is unlikely to be observing Halloween as any sort of Christian holy day at all.

As Christian belief and observance have declined, Halloween celebrations have become increasingly more elaborate, and correspondingly more macabre.

   The little boy’s comment also ties in with something I’ve noticed more and more over the past few decades: as Christian belief and observance have declined, Halloween celebrations have become increasingly more elaborate, and correspondingly more macabre. In years past the emphasis was on the supernatural: ghosts, goblins, witches and demons.  Now at least as much attention is paid to simple violence and gore: what does “crime scene” tape have to do with those powers, principalities, and spiritual hosts of wickedness? We have forgotten Christ’s Victory, and so are left with only Death and Corruption, apparently unchallenged. A society that celebrates death and corruption for its own sake is, I submit, a society in deep, deep trouble.

     As I said at the outset, I am not against Halloween per se, and I don’t advocate its abolition.  I do suggest that we who are Christians observe it in its proper context, including its original function as the prelude to All Saints Day (which is why, after all, it is called “Hallow’s Eve”).  You have no doubt heard in recent years calls to “Keep Christ in Christmas” . . . let’s also keep the Hallowed in Halloween.

Featured image: Christ Triumphant over Sin and Death (Salvator Mundi) by Peter Paul Rubens, 1618

Put Not Your Trust in Princes, or, The Autumn of Our Discontent

   It’s a beautiful autumn day in New England, a clear, bright, warm (but not too warm) day such as this region has produced every October since before the first humans wandered across the Bering Land Bridge and meandered south.   It was snowing when I started this blog nine months (and 111 posts) ago.  I had mostly let my old Blogger blogs lapse because of changes in my life that made the pursuit of bloggery difficult, but in January I felt driven to pick up the, um, not pen . . . hmm, what does one pick up when starting a blog? Anyway, I felt driven to resume the practice of bloggery. Nine months, of course, is the length of time (more or less) that most of us spend in the womb, so this seems like a good enough time to look back and evaluate how things have developed.

      Back in January there was much lamentation in the land to the effect that 2020 was The Worst Year Ever. I wasn’t quite sure it was the “worst year ever”, or even one of the worst, at least if we considered actual events: nothing came even close to the horrors or the war years 1914-1918 and 1939-1945; the coronavirus “pandemic” couldn’t hold a candle to the death and suffering caused by the Spanish Flu in 1918-1921, and all that was just considering the preceding century: every preceding century can boast years far worse than 2020.

     No, the events of 2020 were not evil on an epochal scale . . . in and of themselves.  At the same time, history had seemed to take an unsettling and ominous turn in the previous twelve months: the year was dreadful not so much for what actually happened as for revealing the rot that had been steadily growing beneath the surface, and for raising the specter of much worse to come. The rush to surrender freedoms both political and (even worse) religious at the onset of the nasty-but-not-chart-topping COVID 19 virus; the mayhem in our cities throughout the summer with the tacit, and sometimes not so tacit, indulgence of government officials and influential social entities; the sheer juvenile hysteria of much of the political class, and the shambles of a national election that at least appeared to be fraught with all manner of fraud and dishonesty: all these served to undermine whatever faith we might have had in the institutions that protect our lives, property, and freedoms.  

     Most frightening of all, perhaps, was the unmasking of the immense power wielded by large electronic communications behemoths, no longer restrained by any appearance of restraint or sense of fairness.  How could we hope to reason freely with one another, as Americans have been wont to do, when giants like as Amazon, Twitter, and Google could shut out a major news organization such as the New York Post, shut down a rival social network as they did to Parler, and shut up even Donald J. Trump when he was still President of the United States?  The dystopian nightmares in Brave New World and 1984 suddenly look less distant.

     I determined that I needed to do something, however small, to counter the societal shamble toward Dystopia. In part, I would stop Feeding The Beast: I immediately dropped Twitter and Facebook, and committed myself to using Google as little as possible.  I decided that, rather than reviving one of my old Google-owned Blogger blogs, I would use a different free platform that was not affiliated with any of the largest social media monsters (I eventually settled on WordPress.com).  I had always seen my blogs as a way of preserving and sharing the treasures created by Christian culture over the millennia, so I would include, if possible, a sacred music post every Monday.  I would not post any music from Google-owned YouTube, however.  I have managed to find most of the musical clips I wanted on Vimeo, and in the case of those selections that weren’t already there, I’ve made my own videos and posted them to a free Vimeo account. I have also made a point of including as much sacred art as possible, always including the name of the work and the artist.

Woodrow Wilson, U.S. President 1913-1921

     So far I’ve managed to keep it going, although in the last month or so my schedule has prevented me from maintaining my original goal of at least three posts a week (one music, one re-run from my old blogs, one all-new piece).  Over that time, things out in The World have continued to become ever more interesting.  The new U.S. administration has shown a taste for totalitarianism not seen at least since the Woodrow Wilson administration (if even then). Just one example: we now have dozens of ordinary citizens imprisoned indefinitely for the crime of trespassing on federal property in support of the wrong candidate.  It is also now clear that leftist totalitarians here and around the world have been exploiting COVID as a handy excuse to seize and exercise ever greater power. The large media entities have enthusiastically joined in that effort, vigorously shutting down anyone who disagrees with the “official” narrative or who offers factual information about proven safe and effective COVID treatments other than the experimental gene therapy that the Powers That Be have decided to impose on everyone, including upon those who have already acquired natural immunity. The resulting Medico-Fascist regime differs little, at least in effect, from Mussolini’s ideal of “Everything within the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state”, except for the lack of a Duce at its head (the sad, confused old man in the White House hardly fits the bill).

   The fashion for reactionary progressive totalitarianism has affected the Church as well, as we saw in last summer’s crackdown on the Traditional Latin Mass.  In some places (particularly Latin America) some bishops have gone even further than the dictates of Traditionis Custodes to attack religious orders which use more traditional liturgy and any practices among the faithful (such as kneeling for Holy Communion) that so much as suggest that the Church existed before 1970.

Good Old Days or Bad Old Days? The Traditional Latin Mass

“The Mass of St. John Matha”
by Juan Carreño de Miranda, 1666

    That all sounds pretty bad, doesn’t it?  Ah, but there’s good news, and the good news for Catholic Christians is, well, the Good News (εὐαγγέλιον in Greek, god spell in Old English, from which we get our word Gospel). Scripture advises us:

Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no help.

When his breath departs he returns to his earth; on that very day his plans perish.

Happy is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God

(psalm 146: 3-5)

No human being, and no human institution, will last: all will return to earth. “The Lord,” on the other hand, “will reign forever” (psalm 146: 10). We’re kidding ourselves, of course, if we think that means comfort and safety here and now. “My kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus says to Pontius Pilate (John 18:36). Our journey to that kingdom lies along a via dolorosa in this one: we can depend upon the powers of this world to save us no more than Jesus could rely on Pilate to save him from Calvary.

     Now, while our Kingdom is in the next world, that doesn’t mean we can just let the powers of this world roll over us: we need to fight to preserve the Good, the True, and the Beautiful. At the same time, we should bear in mind that victory on the eternal plane often looks like defeat here and now: how do you think things looked to The World on that first Good Friday? Who really won?

     So let’s keep fighting the Good Fight: that has been a theme of this blog since its inception. Our Hope, however, should be in the One who rose on Easter Sunday: Spes in Domino est.

Featured image top of page: “The Judgment of King Solomon” by Nicholas Poussin, 1649

St. Thérèse of Lisieux, Spiritual Warrior

What can one say about St. Thérèse of Lisieux?  I was tempted not to say anything, expecting that the blogosphere would be filled with an abundance of inspiring and insightful commentary on this wonderful Saint, an expectation that has not been disappointed.  St. Thérèse , however, has a way of getting what she wants, and she is very reluctant to take “no” for an answer (just ask Leo XIII), so who am I to refuse?  I can at least add a brief comment or two to the (well-deserved) tributes to The Little Flower.

One thing that strikes me is how well St. Thérèse complements St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose fascinating story I used to explore at great length with my adolescent Theology students.  St. Ignatius urges us to “Find God in All Things”, which is one of the major themes of his Spiritual Exercises and Ignatian Spirituality in general.  St. Thérèse, it seems to me, takes that a step further and asks us to then serve God in all things.  That is the essence of her Little Way: we can do even something as (apparently) trivial as, say, sweeping the floor “For The Greater Glory of God” (Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam, or AMDG, a favorite motto of St. Ignatius and the Jesuits).

With her Little Way St. Thérèse is a strategist, a general, for each one of us in the Spiritual War that rages in our heart and mind between the Spirit of Christ and the Spirit of Satan.  

 

    It is in this way that St. Thérèse is a soldier.  Not a literal soldier, of course, as St. Ignatius had been; rather, with her Little Way she is a strategist, a general, for each one of us in the Spiritual War that rages in our heart and mind between the Spirit of Christ and the Spirit of Satan.  The Devil is in the details; inattention in little things can lead to self-centeredness in little things and, given just how many little things there are, can mean a lot of time focused on ourselves.  Self-immersion leads to selfishness, which is an invitation to the Evil One to move in.  It’s best not to yield an inch of ground to the Enemy and, as The Little Flower has shown us, save it all for Jesus.  Perhaps then, God willing, we can, like St. Thérèse, spend our Heaven doing Good.

Photos of St. Thérèse as St. Joan of Arc taken by her sister Céline .