What a fool I was when the Berlin Wall fell forty years ago.
I naively thought that the apotheosis of the state into totalitarian forms of government was fully and finally exposed. Everyone knew it was an inhuman, deadly fraud. In my innocence, I was sure that all such attempts to put the minutiae of every individual’s life into the all-powerful hands of bureaucrat-gods had sputtered and died from their own absurdity, never to return. After all, the totalitarian states of the twentieth century had almost all gone through the entire cycle of rise, decline, and fall. Now they were residing in what one of their authors so eloquently termed “the dustbin of history.” Of the few remaining, Cuba and North Korea were so transparently disasters that nobody (it seemed) could see them as models. Even China appeared to be following Russia and the communist states of Eastern Europe on the path of democratic reform.
Yes I and many others had deceived ourselves. Who would have guessed that despite the millions murdered and starved in the 20th century, and the manifest failure of every single attempt to invest god-like power into human governance, the totalitarian impulse would still hold such appeal, even growing appeal, in the third decade of the 21st century?
The all powerful totalitarian state in George Orwell’s novel 1984 uses the comforting, familial image of “Big Brother” to mask the ugly reality of its absolute control. Big Brother uses many tools (such as constant surveillance) to keep and exercise his power, but the most effective is language. By tightly controlling the language, Big Brother can control the way his subjects think. Just as the image of Big Brother himself is a fiction, words and phrases serve, not to convey meaning, but to hide real meanings in favor of whatever content the state chooses to give them.
Newspeak
This language that is intentionally designed to deceive rather than inform is called Newspeak. A character in the novel named Syme, a lexicologist, explains that, as Newspeak develops . . .
but those who wait for the LORD shall possess the land.
Yet a little while, and the wicked will be no more;
though you look well at his place, he will not be there.
But the meek shall possess the land,
and delight themselves in abundant prosperity. (Psalm 37: 5;9-11)
In the earliest days of the Church Epiphany was one of the most important observances, perhaps second only to the great Feast of the Resurrection at Easter. Even before Christmas existed as a Christian holy day, believers gathered on January 6th to celebrate the Epiphany, i.e., the “revealing” of Jesus as the Son of God in some combination of the Incarnation and the Nativity, the visit of the Magi, and the Baptism of Jesus.
A few years back the Catholic bishops in the United States determined that they could best impress the importance of this feast on their flock by allowing local bishops conferences to move it to the nearest Sunday, rather than keeping it in its ancient home on the sixth day of the year. Whatever we may think of that decision, it does give me another opportunity of discussing those mysterious visitors to newborn Jesus described in chapter 2 of Matthew’s Gospel, the Magi.
Detail from the medieval polychrome choir screen in Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris
Faith Seeking Understanding
Let me begin with an observation from my post on last year’s liturgical celebration of Epiphany. I described the Blessed Mother as exemplifying St. Augustine’s famous description of theology: fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking understanding.” The Magi, too, are the very personification of fides quaerens intellectum. Their faith isn’t the Jewish faith, of course, and they’re decades too early to know the Christian faith . . . although they do come to Christ. Quite literally.
We are not sure exactly who they are where they come from. Matthew doesn’t tell us that they’re kings, or how many of them there are. He simply describes them as μάγοι ἀπὸ ἀνατολῶν, magi (sometimes translated “wise men”) from the east (Matthew 2:1). The term magi suggests that they may have been Zoroastrian priests from Persia.
In any case, they come following a star, a sign from God. They put themselves into God’s hands, trusting in him to lead them to a “newborn King of the Jews.” When they are led to a seemingly ordinary baby boy with undistinguished parents, they still trust that he is nonetheless worthy of their kingly gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Their trust in God’s guidance, that is to say their faith, is rewarded one last time when they are warned in a dream to avoid the murderous King Herod on their way home.
Faith vs. Power
Wise Men Still Seek Him, Print by Jennifer Pugh
Ah yes, let’s not forget Herod. Where the Magi embody trust in God, Herod is the man of action who puts his trust in his own worldly power. His lack of faith blinds him. He’s unaware of the Messiah being born in his own backyard. He lives in mortal fear of losing his power (which is not, in fact his own power at all: he is a puppet kinglet under the control of the Emperor across the sea in Rome, who can remove him at his pleasure). In his fear and rage, he lashes out with deadly violence against the innocent baby boys of Bethlehem.
It’s all to no effect. With all his worldly power he can’t stop the coming of the Messiah, or even save his own life: he is dead shortly after the birth of Jesus, and his already small realm is divided into four even smaller pieces among his heirs.
Wise Men Still Seek Him
We can learn a lot from the faith of the Magi. There is a popular meme that has made its way onto countless Christmas cards: a picture of the Magi with the inscription “Wise Men Still Seek Him.” How often do we, who have the full revelation of Jesus Christ and his Gospel, instead seek our own worldly agenda, following the example of miserable King Herod?
St. Paul tells us that “the wisdom of this world is folly with God. For it is written, ‘He catches the wise in their craftiness . . . So let no one boast of men. For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future, all are yours; and you are Christs; and Christ is Gods.” (1 Corinthians 3:19; 21-22).
That’s a star we all can follow.
*Featured image: Interview of the Magi and Herod the Great, by J. James Tissot late 19th century
Music for Epiphany
Some of you may disagree, but it seems that the quality of Christmas songs sharply declines beginning in the mid twentieth century. Happily, there are some exceptions. One of them is posted below: the 1963 Bing Crosby recording of “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
The song was composed by Noël Regney and Gloria Shayne in the midst of the fear and anxiety of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, and a version by the Harry Simeon Chorale was released that year. Bing Crosby’s recording the following Christmas made the song a favorite. It features the star from Matthew’s Gospel, and a king who is decidedly not King Herod:
Said the king to the people everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!) Pray for peace, people, everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!) The Child, the Child sleeping in the night He will bring us goodness and light He will bring us goodness and light
Lyrics
Do you hear what I hear?
Said the night wind to the little lamb Do you see what I see? (Do you see what I see?) Way up in the sky, little lamb Do you see what I see? (Do you see what I see?) A star, a star, dancing in the night With a tail as big as a kite With a tail as big as a kite
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy Do you hear what I hear? (Do you hear what I hear?) Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy Do you hear what I hear? (Do you hear what I hear?)
A song, a song high above the trees With a voice as big as the sea With a voice as big as the sea
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king Do you know what I know? (Do you know what I know?) In your palace warm, mighty king Do you know what I know? (Do you know what I know?)
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold Let us bring him silver and gold Let us bring him silver and goldSaid the king to the people everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!) Pray for peace, people, everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!)
Merry Christmas, on this the 4th day of Christmas! The Holy Season is well upon us, and today we see it in all its complexity: we’re still singing carols and chiming bells, while at the same time recoiling from the horror of King Herod’s mass infanticide at Bethlehem, as commemorated in today’s Feast of the Holy Innocents.
Today’s feast reminds us not only of enormities committed against innocent life in our own day, but also that the baby lying in the wooden manger has escaped Herod’s wrath only so that he might die thirty years later on the wooden beams of the cross.
Holy Innocents and St. Anthony of Lerins
St. Anthony of Lerins
The Feast of the Holy Innocents is, of course, the chief liturgical observance in the Church today. There are any number of fine reflections on the witness of these tiny martyrs. See here and here, for example. Here also is my post from last year: Holy Innocents and the Saving Power of Christmas Carols.
This year I’m taking a different approach. As I observed in my recent posts on St. Servulus, St. Nicasius, and St. Anastasia, lesser observances are often overwhelmed during great celebrations such as Christmas and Easter. There are, in fact other saints commemorated today, whose memory can be completely buried under the combined weight of the Feast of the Holy Innocents and the ongoing celebration of the Nativity of Our Lord. One of these is St. Anthony of Lerins (also known as St. Anthony the Hermit). As we shall see, there are some interesting ways in which this saint’s story complements that of the tiny martyrs of Bethlehem.
The Attraction of Sanctity
As it happens, St. Anthony would probably be just as happy to be ignored, if his life here on earth is any indication. He born in the year 468 AD at Valeria in the region that the Romans had called Lower Pannonia, but which at this time was controlled by the Huns.
Fortunately, Christian life continued despite the hegemony of the pagan Huns. Anthony enjoyed the blessing of growing up among holy men. He lived for a time with St. Severinus of Noricum after his father died in Anthony’s ninth year. When St. Severinus himself died a few years later, Anthony moved to the household of his uncle Constantius, who was the bishop of Lorsch in what is now Bavaria. When he reached adulthood he became a hermit in the area of Lake Como in northern Italy.
As is often the case with holy hermits, his sanctity attracted a large number of followers. Seeking to recapture a little of the solitude for which he embraced the eremitical life, Anthony moved on yet again. Eventually, he settled in Lerins in France, where he spent his final two years on earth . . . and where the would-be recluse became famous (yet again!) throughout the district for sanctity and miracle-working.
In the story of St. Anthony of Lerins we see a couple of themes that connect him to today’s commemoration of the Holy Innocents, and to the Child in the manger in whose honor we are celebrating this entire liturgical season. St. Paul tells us in his Second Letter to the Corinthians:
[The Lord] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Thoughout Salvation History
Attila the Hun, by Eugène Delacroix, 1843-1847
We see God’s propensity to reveal his power in weakness throughout salvation history. The preeminent example is when the infinite Second Person of the Trinity, the Eternal Word, manifests himself in this world as a tiny baby lying in a feeding trough in a stable. We also see it in the helplessness of the Holy Innocents slaughtered at Bethlehem.
This propensity appears yet again in the life of a simple man who wanted nothing more than to live a life of holiness with his Lord. Isn’t it interesting that on this day when we commemorate the sacrifice of those children, and the sanctity of St. Anthony, the powers that loomed so large in their lifetimes are only dim memories. The power of King Herod, and of the Huns under whose rule Anthony was born, has long since crumbled, and their names have become little more than bywords for cruelty and violence.
It’s not that the power of the Herods, Huns, and other worldly tyrants has had no lasting effect. It’s just that their “power” doesn’t accomplish what they expect. St. Paul again provides us with the key when he says: “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)
What God Wills
We see this idea applied in the non-scriptural passage in today’s Office of Readings, a homily on the slaughter of the Holy Innocents by St. Quodvultdeus (his name means “What God wills” in Latin). Addressing King Herod our homilist says:
Yet your throne is threatened by the source of grace – so small, yet so great – who is lying in the manger. He is using you, all unaware of it, to work out his own purposes freeing souls from captivity to the devil. He has taken up the sons of the enemy into the ranks of God’s adopted children.
God makes all things work for the good of those who love him, including the evil machinations of wicked men like Herod. How much more so, then, the good things in the life of a holy man like St. Anthony of Lerins. God gives us his gifts not so much for our own sake, but so that we might use them in the service of others, to help free their souls, as the homilist above puts it, from captivity to the devil. St. Anthony was seeking a quiet life of prayer and contemplation, but God gave him the grace to desire such a life, and the power to perform miracles, so that he might sanctify the people among whom he was living. Let us all pray for the grace to embrace likewise God’s gifts to us, and to use them for Quod Deus Vult: What God Wills.
Featured Image top of page: The Massacre of the Innocents, by Sano di Pietro, c. 1470
An interesting note: at one time, the story of these poor murdered children itself inspired a large number of songs. The best known today (the only one, it appears, that is still regularly performed) is the “Coventry Carol” (lyrics below), dating from the 16th century. In the clip below Collegium Vocale Gent performs the song, with Peter Dijkstra conducting. The artwork in the video is Sano di Pietro’s 1470 painting “Massacre of the Innocents.”
Coventry Carol
1. Lullay, Thou little tiny Child, By, by, lully, lullay. Lullay, Thou little tiny Child. By, by, lully, lullay.
2. O sisters, too, how may we do, For to preserve this day; This poor Youngling for whom we sing, By, by, lully, lullay.
3. Herod the King, in his raging, Charged he hath this day; His men of might, in his own sight, All children young, to slay.
4. Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee, And ever mourn and say; For Thy parting, nor say nor sing, By, by, lully, lullay. Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child, By by, lully lullay.
What a fool I was when the Berlin Wall fell forty years ago.
I naively thought that the apotheosis of the state into totalitarian forms of government was fully and finally exposed. Everyone knew it was an inhuman, deadly fraud. In my innocence, I was sure that all such attempts to put the minutiae of every individual’s life into the all-powerful hands of bureaucrat-gods had sputtered and died from their own absurdity, never to return. After all, the totalitarian states of the twentieth century had almost all gone through the entire cycle of rise, decline, and fall. Now they were residing in what one of their authors so eloquently termed “the dustbin of history.” Of the few remaining, Cuba and North Korea were so transparently disasters that nobody (it seemed) could see them as models. Even China appeared to be following Russia and the communist states of Eastern Europe on the path of democratic reform.
West Germans celebrate the unification of Berlin atop the wall on Nov. 12, 1989. Stephen Jaffe/Getty Images
Yes I and many others had deceived ourselves. Who would have guessed that despite the millions murdered and starved in the 20th century, and the manifest failure of every single attempt to invest god-like power into human governance, the totalitarian impulse would still hold such appeal, even growing appeal, in the third decade of the 21st century? Who would have predicted that even here in the United States, Cradle of Liberty, powerful financial interests and leading media entities would join with ambitious political forces to form a totalitarian syndicate that would make Mussolini proud?
The Totalitarian Impulse
Benito Mussolini (Photo by Roger Viollet/Getty Images)
Speaking of Mussolini, the Italian fascist dictator was certainly on the mind of Pope Pius XI in 1925. That’s when the Roman Pontiff introduced The Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe. Pope Pius added the feast in order to counter growing totalitarian movements in Europe and elsewhere. He sought to remind Catholics that their Lord and Savior is Jesus Christ. He is not the Volk, and certainly not whatever Duce happens to grab the reins of power at a given time. The Solemnity of Christ the King says to the self-anointed powers of this world what Jesus says to Pontius Pilate. To wit: “You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above” (John 19:11)
Sadly, despite the eclipse of most of the prominent fascistic and communist governments by the end of the past century, the totalitarian impulse and the idolatry of the state continues, albeit in a rather less homicidal form (for the time being). For that reason this feast day is as relevant now as it was a century ago.
He Must Reign
The celebration of Christ the King is also relevant on another level. It applies to each and every man and woman who has inhabited this Earth (with two exceptions) since Adam and Eve were driven from the Garden of Eden. In Quas Primas, the encyclical with which he established the Solemnity of Christ the King, Pope Pius XI says:
. . . If to Christ our Lord is given all power in heaven and on earth; if all men, purchased by his precious blood, are by a new right subjected to his dominion; if this power embraces all men, it must be clear that not one ofour faculties isexempt from his empire. He must reign in our minds, which should assent with perfect submission and firm belief to revealed truths and to the doctrines of Christ. He must reign in our wills, which should obey the laws and precepts of God. He must reign in our hearts, which should spurn natural desires and love God above all things, and cleave to him alone. He must reign in our bodies and in our members, which should serve as instruments for the interior sanctification of our souls . . .
“You would have no power over me unless it had been given to you from above” (John 19:11)
Jesus Before Pilate, Second Interview (Jésus devant Pilate. Deuxième entretien), James Tissot,1886-1894
Christ is King
Pope Pius reminds us that there is Someone who really does have a claim on us. Someone who rules every aspect of our lives and even ourselves. It’s not the state. Yes, Christ does not only reign over the world, he reigns in our hearts . . . if we let him. All of us, even those who have consciously sworn off looking for messiahs in politics or government, fall into idolatry from time to time. How often have I pinned my dearest hopes on some passing thing? A new job, the next tax refund, or even some ridiculous new gadget to add to my collection of equally ridiculous gadgets? If I’m not careful (and, honestly, sometimes I’m not), I can find these seemingly innocuous little idols setting themselves up on the Throne reserved for Jesus alone.
On this Solemnity of Our Lord Jesus Christ, King of the Universe, we do well to remember that only Christ is the Lord of men, only Christ can be the Master of our hearts: Inquietum est cor meum, Domine, donec in te requiescat, “my heart is restless, Lord, until it rests in you”.
Featured image, top of page: Christ Surrounded by Musician Angels, Hans Memling, 1480s
Truth is the mortal enemy of Sin. There is nothing sin hates and fears more than the truth. Few issues illustrate that reality as starkly as abortion. Truth has been the theme of a number of my discussions here recently (“I Show You The Times: The Truth v. The Narrative,” “Rights, Solidarity, and the Truth“). It’s only fitting that we return to the topic today on the 49th anniversary of the U.S. Supreme Court’s Roe v. Wade decision, in which the court sacrificed the Truth of Human Life to the Untrammelled Human Will.
Before we get to the main topic, however, I’d like to look briefly at today’s anniversary. I’ve seen and heard more than one Catholic commentator hopefully suggest that this year’s March for Life, which has taken place in Washington, D.C. every January since 1974, may be the last. The Supreme Court is hearing another abortion case this year, Dobbsv.Jackson Women’s Health, and opponents of the abortion regime are hoping that the current court will have the nerve to overturn Roe. Then, as Katherine Jean Lopez writes in the National Review, “If it’s overturned in June, I’m hoping the march will move to June. The march would then be in thanksgiving.” Such a decision would be cause for rejoicing indeed . . . but I’m not holding my breath.
The March for Life fills Constitution Avenue in Washington, D.C., 21 January 2022 (AP Photo/Patrick Semansky)
I don’t mean to sound negative, but hear me out. In the best case scenario, the Supreme Court completely overturns Roe, as well as 1992’s Casey v. Planned Parenthood. In that case, states would be free to restrict or even outlaw abortion, but it would need to be fought out state by state. The pro-life movement would need to keep going strong for years to come, both working to outlaw abortion, and to fight off the inevitable challenges to any pro-life laws that are passed.
As it is, I don’t expect the best case scenario from this court, although, pray God, nothing would please me more. Whatever the outcome, total reversal of Roe, a widening of the loopholes in the old decision, or a ringing endorsement of Roe’s unrestricted abortion regime (which I admit is also unlikely), the struggle won’t be over, now or ever. Abortion is just one front in the eternal war. I’m reposting below a revised version of my discussion of this topic on the 42nd anniversary of Roe v. Wade, “‘Choice’ and the Father of Lies’:
The Father of Lies
“He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks according to his own nature, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” (John 8:44)
As we mark the ugly anniversary of Roe vs. Wade this week, it is only appropriate that we take a look at “Old Scratch” himself, the Devil. In John’s Gospel our Lord tells us everything we need to know about the Devil: “He was a murderer from the beginning”, and “He is a liar, the father of lies”. And what is his first lie, the Big Lie that is still his primary murder weapon? “You will not die . . . you will be like God, knowing good and evil”. (Genesis 3:4-5) No worries, there will be no eternal consequences, Satan tells us, we can decide for ourselves what is good and evil, we aregods. For this reason he is called “the Devil”, from the Greek διάβολος (diabolos), which means “slanderer, perjurer, false accuser, and can also mean “deceiver, one who misleads”. It derives from the verb διαβάλλω (diaballo), whose original meaning is “drive through”, or destroy. Satan seeks to destroy us, eternally, by using falsehood and deception to separate us from God.
A Unique Set of Prayers
I got to thinking about all this the other day due to an obervation from my Lovely Bride. She had just run across this article [here] from the National Right To Life News, detailing certain pro-abortion “prayers” that are being circulated by our old friends at Planned Parenthood. She couldn’t help but think of the observation of C.S. Lewis (and many others) to the effect that Satan can’t create anything on his own, all he can do is mock and falsify God’s creation. I think she has a point. PP calls their campaign by the inelegant title “40 Days of Prayer For Women Everywhere”, an obvious mockery of 40 Days For Life. Here is a sample of a few of the Planned Parenthood “prayers”, from the NRTL News article:
“We give thanks for the doctors who provide quality abortion care”
“We pray for a cloud of gentleness to surround every abortion facility.”
“We pray for all the staff at abortion clinics around the nation. May they be daily confirmed in the sacred care that they offer women.”
“We give thanks for abortion escorts who guide women safely through the hostile gauntlet of protesters.”
“We pray for women who have been made afraid of their own power [of choice, i.e. abortion] by their religion. May they learn to reject fear and live bravely.
”National Right To Life News notes that these “prayers” were composed by a group calling itself “Faith Aloud”, and that “Infamous late term abortionist Dr. Leroy Carhart is a member of the board.”
“To Whom It May Concern . . .”
Planned Parenthood ‘honors’ the birth of Christ
My first reaction on reading this was: do these people really believe that God will surround their butchery of unborn babies made in His image and likeness with “a cloud of gentleness”? That this butchery could be in any sense called “sacred care”? That the Lord would smile upon their request to separate women from their (most often Christian) religion?
Well, maybe they don’t, because these petitions are not actually addressed to God, or to anyone else for that matter. Is it due to a lack of faith, or perhaps a realization that a just and loving God would not be likely to answer prayers such as these? Whatever the case may be, these are the same people who mocked the words of the Heavenly Host with “Choice on Earth” Christmas cards (in Planned Parenthood newspeak, “choice” always means “abortion”); these are the same people who thought it a generous gesture after the terrorist attack on 9/11 to offerfree abortions to pregnant widows of men who died in the World Trade Towers.
This macabre mockery of religious faith has been a part of the pro-abortion industry/movement for a long time, and it isn’t limited to that movement’s flagship enterprise: immediately after the Roedecision in 1973 a group calling itself the Religious Coalition for Abortion Rights (RCAR) was founded, which soon, recognizing that the truth in this case was a rather unlovely thing, removed the explicit reference to abortion and changed their name to the Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice. And the ugly truth about abortion is the reason for the euphemisms and the bizarre, phony prayers: if they’re honest, they lose, and so they must pretend to be something they’re not. Abortion, like all sin, can’t survive in the Light of Truth.
Spiritual Hosts of Wickedness in Heavenly Places
The AntiChrist taking orders from his boss: detail of fresco in Orvieto Cathedral by Luca Signorelli, 1499-1504
So, let’s see now, lies, mockery of God and sacred things, death; who does that sound like? Could it be…? Yes, you know where this is going. Now, I’m not saying that the people at PP and their fellow travelers in the abortion industrial complex are Satans themselves: I’m willing to believe that most of them think they’re doing the right thing, and that they’re on the side of the angels. The problem is, they are on the side of the fallen angels, whose army is commanded by the father of lies himself. It’s for such a reason that St. Paul tells us: “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 place” (Ephesians 6:12). So how do we go about combating the Powers of Darkness? St. Paul tells us to take on “the whole armor of God” (Ephesians 6:13) and “pray at all times in the Spirit” (Ephesians 6:18) “that utterance may be given me in boldly proclaiming the Gospel” (Ephesians 6:19).
The battle against the Spiritual Hosts of Wickedness, then, calls for a two-pronged strategy: first prayer and reliance on God, next a bold proclamation of the truth. That’s why, before the March for Life in Washington and our local marches, we attend Mass or a prayer service. We need to remember that it’s not simply a matter of politics, it’s not even primarily a matter of politics: it’s a matter of Good and Evil, the God of Truth and the father of lies. Let’s make sure we stay on the right side.
Sir Thomas More and Family, by Rowland Lackey, c. 1594
O, the Times!
We live in interesting times. We have a United States Senator, who is also a licensed doctor, temporarily banned from social media for spreading “misinformation”about face masks, even though the CDC has admitted that his offending claim is true. The President’s press secretary has boldly admitted that the administration is coordinating with large, powerful media entities such as Facebook to censor people who contradict the politically correct narrative concerning COVID. The totalitarian squelching of dissenting voices even goes beyond the reach of the media behemoths: a doctor in Maine has had her license suspended for prescribing ivermectin to COVID sufferers. Ivermectin has a decades-long safety record, and dozens of studies around the world have proven it to an extremely effective treatment for COVID, but it contradicts the favored narrative that only the barely year-old mRNA vaccine is an effective treatment for the Dread Disease from Wuhan (and if you dare to present any evidence casting doubt on the safety or efficacy of said vaccine, expect equally harsh consequences). One more thing: not only was the doctor’s license pulled: she was ordered to undergo a psychological evaluation . . . just as they used to do to dissidents in the old Soviet Union. Apparently, only an insane person would believe the documented evidence and the evidence of her own eyes instead of the Official Narrative. Oh the times, oh the customs!
And what times they are. I find myself thinking of a scene from Robert Bolt’s dramatization of the life of St. Thomas More, A Man For All Seasons. More has just resigned the Office of Chancellor of England because he can’t in good conscience promote King Henry VIII’s efforts to procure an annulment for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon in order to marry Ann Boleyn. At the same time, More is trying to protect himself and his family by not publicly opposing the king’s scheme. When his friend the Duke of Norfolk tries to pin down the former Chancellor about his real position on Henry’s marriage, the following scene ensues:
MORE (Looks at him, takes him aside; in a lowered voice) Have I your word that what we say here is between us two?
NORFOLK (Impatient) Very well.
MORE (Almost whispering) And if the King should command you to repeat what I may say?
NORFOLK I should keep my word to you!
MORE Then what has become of your oath of obedience to the King?
NORFOLK (Indignant) You lay traps for me!
MORE (Now grown calm) No, I show you the times.
The Truth v. The Narrative
St. Thomas More lived in a time when men and women had to choose between the Official Narrative and the Truth. Of course, the choice was starker in More’s day: St. Thomas was ultimately put to death for his refusal to give his public blessing to the King’s new marriage (and also the King’s new role as Pope of England). There are no beheadings so far in the current War on Reality, and pray God we never reach that point, but losing one’s livelihood and reputation is nevertheless a significant price to pay for the refusal to assent to a lie.
2019 March for Life outside U.S. Supreme Court building
The current COVID regime is just an example, by the way, just one of the absurdities to which that the Keepers of The Narrative are demanding that we give our “amen!” And there were many more examples before our day. We might say that the whole thing goes back before the creation of this world to the rebellion of the Prince of Lies and his hench angels in Heaven, and to his sly promise to our first father and mother: “when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5).
The recent American version goes back at least thirty-eight years, to January 22nd 1973, when the United States Supreme Court imposed an unrestricted abortion regime on this country. In its decision the court intoned that “We need not resolve the difficult question of when life begins.” But the question of when life begins was not difficult at all: no serious biologist would have asserted then, and would not now, that the human embryo was not alive. The question before the court was whether all human life is worthy of protection, or only some human lives, to which the court replied, in essence: the only worthy lives are those that The Narrative chooses to protect.
Disengaging From the Tech Tyrants
The creeping tyranny of The All Mighty Narrative is nothing new, then, but it has grown in alarming ways in recent years. The social media companies that have acquired a stranglehold over the transmission of information have become bolder in using their power, in conjunction with other financial and political interests, to shut down any dissent from The Narrative. That’s why I started this blog, one year ago today (January 19th, 2021). As I said in my introductory post:
This new blog grew out of my efforts to disengage from the giant communications companies that seem increasingly intent on squashing any voices that don’t submit to a certain secular and, increasingly, totalitarian social and political perspective (needless to say, traditional Christian belief and morality lie very much outside of that perspective).
I had two main ideas in mind: the first was to promote independent, dissenting voices outside the domain of the Tech Tyrants. The other was to stop feeding The Beast by avoiding its products whenever possible. Ideally, this could be done without any added expense. To that end my new blog was not on the Google acquisition Blogger (where I had published previously) but on WordPress.com, which provides a free blogging platform. I set out to post sacred music clips, one every week if possible, and none of them from the Google-acquired YouTube. Since I had forsworn Facebook and Twitter (and all their works and promises) I shared my posts on other social media outlets that did not consider themselves part of the Vanguard of the Woke Revolution (chiefly Gab and Mewe).
One Year Later
I’m still at it one year later. There have been some snags along the way. Wordpress.com places ads on free websites. I was under the impression that the ads were only for the hosting service itself. When I discovered otherwise, I checked in on my blog from a computer at work. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Spes In Domino, my faithful Catholic web site, was advertising contraceptives. I decided that as soon as possible I would move to a self-owned website, which I did as soon as another family member acquired a hosting package for an ecommerce site. It was well worth the $20 annual fee for the domain name.
Samizdat from Soviet Russia
Those are minor inconveniences, of course, and a small price to pay for the ability to speak the truth. Under the totalitarian communist regime in the Soviet Union dissidents intent on telling the truth used to evade the censorship and the distortions of the official press by distributing samizdat, which was no more than mimeographed pamphlets passed from hand to hand. We need to be as resourceful in fighting the creeping totalitarianism in our world today.
Granted, nobody in the United States is being sent to the Gulag just for opposing the favored Narrative . . . at least not yet. On the other hand, a recent Rasmussen Reports poll has found that “Nearly half (48%) of Democratic voters think federal and state governments should be able to fine or imprison individuals who publicly question the efficacy of the existing COVID-19 vaccines on social media, television, radio, or in online or digital publications.” That’s a frighteningly large chunk of the population who favor the security state over the free exchange of ideas. The Narrative is a jealous god indeed.
Ultimately, it comes down to a matter of truth. Our Lord tells us “He who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and he who is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.” (Luke 16:10) How can we hope to be faithful to Him Who is “the Way, the Truth, and the Life” (John 14:6) if we’re not faithful to the ordinary everyday truths? Christ further tells us that “the Truth will set you free”(John 8:32). There is no freedom without truth. Lord, give us the courage to face and to speak the truth!
. . . and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:32)
I’ll bet you’re tired of talking about COVID. I certainly am. The curious little virus (SARS-CoV-2) from Wuhan (or, more accurately, our reactions to it) has tyrannized not just conversation but public life for almost two years now, in a way that no other illness (or illness causing agent) has since the Spanish Flu a century ago. The HIV virus never achieved anything like the universal impact of COVID, not even back in the eighties when AIDS first burst on the scene and a young doctor named Anthony Fauci came to public prominence predicting that we were all at risk, and that we could look forward to millions of people dying of AIDS by the 1990s (forty years later, the official count stands at approximately 700,000).
The little tyrant: SARS-CoV-2 (publicdomainpictures.net)
I’ve addressed COVID a few times on this blog, but I’ve avoided getting into it too deeply. I try to avoid partisan politics here, and COVID is very, very (very) political. We live in a time, however, in which politics intrudes very deeply into our personal and spiritual life, so just as politics is unavoidable, so is COVID . . . or, more accurately, the public policies and practices predicated on COVID. Having said that, take heart, this discussion is not really about COVID, or about the vaccine mandate, they just provide the raw material. Today’s topic is truth.
The precipitating event for today’s discussion was Thursday’s U. S. Supreme Court decision striking down the Biden administration’s COVID vaccine mandate in the guise of an OSHA regulation. I tend to think the Supreme Court did the right thing. But again, that’s not my argument here. Instead, I’d like to start with a remark I heard on Catholic radio this morning. A commenter observed that Catholics who base their criticisms of the vaccine mandate (or other public policies) on the concept of individual rights are taking the wrong approach: “rights” is a secular concept, Catholics ought instead to make “solidarity” their primary thrust.
There’s a lot that is true in that observation, but there’s enough that’s not quite right that I must, respectfully, disagree. The speaker is correct that the concept of individual rights in and for themselves has never been part of Catholic teaching. I could point out that the term “solidarity” doesn’t have much of a Catholic pedigree, either: it’s my impression that it doesn’t appear in Catholic teaching before the pontificate of St. John Paul II (I’m happy to accept correction if I’m wrong about that). Nonetheless, it is true that the idea behind the term has been a core concept in Catholic teaching since the beginning of the Church. It’s omnipresent in the Gospel: “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brethren, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40). So what’s is my objection to the comment?
Let’s start with rights. First of all, we need to make a distinction between arguments we use among other Catholics, other Christians, and non-believers out in the world. We invoke teaching documents and the established tradition of the Church along with the testimony of the Bible when we want to convince a fellow Catholic. Protestant Christians won’t be impressed by Catholic magisterial teaching, but they’ll listen to those arguments based on Scripture. Depending on their flavor of Protestantism, they may also be willing to look at the practice of the early Church, and maybe the first few ecumenical councils. Non-Christians or those whose orientation is largely secular won’t be swayed by any sort of religious arguments. That’s why the public arguments of the pro-life movement are generally based on natural law and concepts of right and wrong that are accessible to everyone regardless of belief, including atheists. Catholics who invoke the secular concept of rights in the case of COVID vaccine mandates are not arguing from Catholic theology, but are appealing to a concept shared by believers and non-believers alike in order to convince the largest number of people.
“I have become all things to all men, that I might by all means save some.” (1 Corinthians 9:22) St. Paul Preaching on the Ruins, by Giovanni Paolo Pannini, 1640
Beyond that, it’s not quite true to say that Catholic teaching has no concept of rights, even if it doesn’t envision them in the same way the secular world does. Consider this passage from The Catechism of the Catholic Church (my bold):
Man has the right to act in conscience and in freedom so as personally to make moral decisions. “He must not be forced to act contrary to his conscience. Nor must he be prevented from acting according to his conscience, especially in religious matters.” (CCC 1782)
The Church, then, is very much in favor of our right to follow our conscience. Conscience, in fact, provides a good illustration of how the Catholic idea of rights and freedom differs from a more worldly view. God gives us good things so that we can use them for good ends: a free conscience, for instance, enables us “personally to make moral decisions.” We are certainly capable of making immoral decisions (and we all often do so, unfortunately), but such decisions are an abuse of our freedom, and inevitably bring bad consequences for ourselves and others. Rights, in the Catholic view, don’t exist just for ourselves alone, but to enable us to achieve higher ends.
So, where does the COVID vaccine mandate come into this discussion? Before I go any further, let me stipulate that I’m not judging (after all, who am I to judge?) anybody’s personal decision to take or not to take the available vaccines. The official statement from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (based on the 2008 CDC instructionDignitatis Personae, among other sources) assures us that, despite the use of cells from aborted embryonic humans in the production of the vaccines:
when ethically irreproachable Covid-19 vaccines are not available . . . it is morally acceptable to receive Covid-19 vaccines that have used cell lines from aborted fetuses in their research and production process. (Note on the morality of using some anti-Covid-19 vaccines, 2)
To put the above quote in context, it’s important to take into account that the acceptability of a tainted vaccine is not just dependent on the availability (or not) of other vaccines. We need to consider the gravity of the illness we are seeking to avoid, and whether there are other means of avoidance or treatment. We need to weigh whether possible side effects of the vaccine outweigh potential benefits. If we decide to receive the tainted vaccine, we have “a duty to make known [our ]disagreement and to ask that [our] healthcare system make other types of vaccines available” (Dignitatis Personae 35). There are no hard and fast answers to these questions: everyone needs to evaluate them in the light of his or her own properly informed conscience. That’s why the CDC note goes on to say:
At the same time, practical reason makes evident that vaccination is not, as a rule, a moral obligation and that, therefore, it must be voluntary. In any case, from the ethical point of view,the morality of vaccination depends not only on the duty to protect one’s own health, but also on the duty to pursue the common good. (Note on the morality of using some anti-Covid-19 vaccines, 5)
The idea of the common good brings us to St. John Paul’s concept of solidarity, to which it is closely connected. John Paul explains the concept as follows:
The exercise of solidarity within each society is valid when its members recognize one another as persons. Those who are more influential, because they have a greater share of goods and common services, should feel responsible for the weaker and be ready to share with them all they possess. Those who are weaker, for their part, in the same spirit of solidarity, should not adopt a purely passive attitude or one that is destructive of the social fabric, but, while claiming their legitimate rights, should do what they can for the good of all. The intermediate groups, in their turn, should not selfishly insist on their particular interests, but respect the interests of others. (Sollicitudo Rei Socialis, 39)
Pope St. John Paul II
There can be little doubt that any Christian response to the COVID situation, including the question of vaccination, should be informed by a sense of solidarity. The difficulty is, what specific actions should we take, or not take, “for the good of all”? In what way does taking a given vaccine benefit my neighbor? Does it really provide the promised protection? Do any benefits outweigh potential harms? Does the gravity of the threat require making the choice at all? Must my idea of appropriate solidarity in this situation necessarily be the same as someone else’s?
As is the case with conscience, we need to apply prudential judgment to determine what solidarity demands in a given circumstance, and my answer may not be the same as yours. As is the case with conscience, our prudential judgment needs to be informed, both by the moral teaching of the Church and by the actual facts on the ground. COVID and the newly developed vaccines have been so thoroughly politicized that it’s difficult to trust the information provided by public authorities, prominent medical spokespersons, and major media outlets. What are we to make of the fact, for instance, that even the head of CDC admits that the vaccines can’t prevent transmission of the virus, while the administration demands we all get vaccinated in order to prevent, yes, transmission of the virus? This is just one example of public pronouncements and policies in conflict with what appear to be objective facts.
So, yes, solidarity is an essential part of our response to questions of public policy, but true solidarity needs to be rooted in the truth. Pointless gestures that make us feel good about ourselves but do nothing to help our neighbor aren’t true solidarity. Giving public affirmation to a political narrative based on distortions, or even falsehoods, does not promote the common good. Feelings of solidarity not rooted in reality are mere sentiment, which can (and and so often has been) used by demagogues to manipulate the masses.
We can’t act in meaningful solidarity if we don’t know what solidarity really requires. We can’t properly exercise our consciences if we don’t know the actual facts. We can’t have any sort of healthy civil society, to say nothing of a properly functioning republic, without a healthy respect for reality. A society that builds on lies will sooner or later come under the sway of the Prince of Lies. Our starting point as Catholics in approaching questions of public policy must be to insist on a commitment to the truth.
Feature image top of page: St. Augustine Disputing WithFortunatus, by unknown Umbrian Master, c. 1510
One year ago I started this blog, Spes in Domino, in large part because I felt the need for independent voices, even small, insignificant voices like mine, to provide some alternative to the increasingly totalitarian dominance of tech giants such as Twitter, Facebook, Amazon, and Google. I had previously run two blogs on Blogger, but hadn’t done much with them for several years previously.
The alarming highhandedness and arrogance of the Tech Tyrants in 2020 convinced me that it was time to take up the standard of Catholic Bloggery once again – but not on Blogger, which, like many useful and innovative products available online, had been acquired (or stolen – ask Oracle about that) by the evil empire known as Google. I would start anew on the free platform WordPress.com, and avoid, if at all possible, using any other Google owned entities (such as YouTube).
I intend to publish an update and retrospective on the past year next week. If all goes well, I will have moved this blog from WordPress.com to my own platform by then (WordPress.com is better than feeding the Beast known as Google, but it’s not without its own issues). In the meanwhile, I’m reposting my inaugural post for Spes In Domino, a stirring manifesto entitled, “Forget the Tech Tyrants, Our Hope is in The Lord”:
Welcome to Spes in Domino (Hope in the Lord). This new blog grew out of my efforts to disengage from the giant communications companies that seem increasingly intent on squashing any voices that don’t submit to a certain secular and, increasingly, totalitarian social and political perspective (needless to say, traditional Christian belief and morality lie very much outside of that perspective). I found dropping the likes of Twitter and Facebook to be easy; untangling myself from the many tentacles of the behemoth known as Google is a more complicated task.
In my current job there’s not much I can do about the pervasiveness of Google: Gmail, Google Meet, Google Classroom, and a whole series of (admittedly convenient) other tools are furnished by my employer. Ending my personal entanglement with Google is another matter: it’s achievable, but time-consuming and tedious. I’ve begun the process of shifting my email traffic from Gmail to Protonmail, I’m moving documents from Google Drive to Zoho, and I’m looking for ways to replace other Google products as well. Among my Google connections are two Blogger blogs, now mostly moribund, except at Christmas time. Blogger was swallowed up by Google some years ago. As I’ve been looking over all my old blog posts while working to rescue them from the maw of Google, I’ve been inspired to resume the regular practice of bloggery. I’ve reflected on how important it is to keep independent voices in the public square – especially Catholic Christian voices. In addition to providing a sane perspective on our life here on Earth, I had always tried with my old blogs to share the immense, beautiful, and inspiring treasury of religious art and music we have inherited, much of which remains unknown to so many of us. I’m convinced that this remains a an essential mission.
Don’t trust in this guy
Sharing some of those treasures more widely, then, is one of the purposes of this blog (and part of the fun for me is learning about them and experiencing them myself). I also hope to discuss (charitably, if I can) events and ideas from a Catholic perspective. In addition, I will also be taking note of saint’s days, liturgical feasts, and other elements of Catholic life and Catholic culture as they suggest themselves to my distractible mind. Oh, and I promise to try not to get too caught up in the specifics of politics. Politics is like the horse in Psalm 33: “The war horse is vain hope for victory, and by its great might it cannot save” (Psalm 33:17).
The Good News is that there’s someone who can save:
Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear him, on those who hope in his steadfast love, that he may deliver their soul from death, and keep them alive in famine. Our soul waits for the LORD; he is our help and shield. Yea, our heart is glad in him, because we trust in his holy name. Let thy steadfast love, O LORD, be upon us, even as we hope in thee. (Psalm 33: 18-22)
Our hope is not in politics, or programs, or policies, or in people . . . our hope is in The Lord: Spes in Domino est.
but those who wait for the LORD shall possess the land.
Yet a little while, and the wicked will be no more;
though you look well at his place, he will not be there.
But the meek shall possess the land,
and delight themselves in abundant prosperity. (Psalm 37: 5;9-11)
In the earliest days of the Church Epiphany was one of the most important observances, perhaps second only to the great Feast of the Resurrection at Easter. Even before Christmas existed as a Christian holy day, believers gathered on January 6th to celebrate the Epiphany, i.e., the “revealing” of Jesus as the Son of God in some combination of the Incarnation and the Nativity, the visit of the Magi, and the Baptism of Jesus. A few years back the Catholic bishops in the United States determined that they could best impress the importance of this feast on their flock by moving it to the nearest Sunday, rather than keeping it in its ancient home on the sixth day of the year. Whatever we may think of that decision, it does give me another opportunity of discussing those mysterious visitors to newborn Jesus described in chapter 2 of Matthew’s Gospel, the Magi.
Detail from the medieval polychrome choir screen in Paris’ Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris
Let me begin with an observation from my post on this year’s liturgical celebration of Epiphany this past Sunday. I described the Blessed Mother as exemplifying St. Augustine’s famous description of theology: fides quaerens intellectum, “faith seeking wisdom.” The Magi, too, are the very personification of fides quaerens intellectum. Their faith isn’t the Jewish faith, of course, and they’re decades too early to know the Christian faith . . . although they do come to Christ. We are not sure exactly who they are where they come from. Matthew doesn’t tell us that they’re kings, or how many of them there are. He simply describes them as μάγοι ἀπὸ ἀνατολῶν, magi (sometimes translated “wise men”) from the east (Matthew 2:1). The term magi suggests that they may have been Zoroastrian priests from Persia. In any case, they come following a star, a sign from God. They put themselves into God’s hands, trusting in him to lead them to a “newborn King of the Jews.” When they are led to a seemingly ordinary baby boy with undistinguished parents, they still trust that he is nonetheless worthy of their kingly gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Their trust in God’s guidance, that is to say their faith, is rewarded one last time when they are warned in a dream to avoid the murderous King Herod on their way home.
Ah yes, let’s not forget Herod. Where the Magi embody trust in God, Herod is the man of action who puts his trust in his own worldly power. His lack of faith blinds him. He’s unaware of the Messiah being born in his own backyard. He lives in mortal fear of losing his power (which is not, in fact his own power at all: he is a puppet kinglet under the control of the Emperor across the sea in Rome, who can remove him at his pleasure). In his fear and rage, he lashes out with deadly violence against the innocent baby boys of Bethlehem. It’s all to no effect. With all his worldly power he can’t stop the coming of the Messiah, or even save his own life: he is dead shortly after the birth of Jesus, and his already small realm is divided into four even smaller pieces among his heirs.
Wise Men Still Seek Him, Print by Jennifer Pugh
We can learn a lot from the faith of the Magi. There is a popular meme that has made its way onto countless Christmas cards: a picture of the Magi with the inscription “Wise Men Still Seek Him.” How often do we, who have the full revelation of Jesus Christ and his Gospel, instead seek our own worldly agenda, following the example of miserable King Herod? St. Paul tells us that “the wisdom of this world is folly with God. For it is written, ‘He catches the wise in their craftiness . . . So let no one boast of men. For all things are yours, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future, all are yours; and you are Christs; and Christ is Gods.” (1 Corinthians 3:19; 21-22).
That’s a star we all can follow.
Music for Epiphany
Some of you may disagree, but it seems that the quality of Christmas songs sharply declines beginning in the mid twentieth century. Happily, here are some exceptions. One of them is posted below: the 1963 Bing Crosby recording of “Do You Hear What I Hear?”
The song was composed by Noël Regney and Gloria Shayne in the midst of the fear and anxiety of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, and a version by the Harry Simeon Chorale was released that year. Bing Crosby’s recording the follwing Christmas made the song a favorite. It features the star from Matthew’s Gospel, and a king who is decidedly not King Herod:
Said the king to the people everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!) Pray for peace, people, everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!) The Child, the Child sleeping in the night He will bring us goodness and light He will bring us goodness and light
Featured image: Interview of the Magi and Herod the Great, by J. James Tissot late 19th century
Lyrics
Do you hear what I hear?
Said the night wind to the little lamb Do you see what I see? (Do you see what I see?) Way up in the sky, little lamb Do you see what I see? (Do you see what I see?) A star, a star, dancing in the night With a tail as big as a kite With a tail as big as a kite
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy Do you hear what I hear? (Do you hear what I hear?) Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy Do you hear what I hear? (Do you hear what I hear?)
A song, a song high above the trees With a voice as big as the sea With a voice as big as the sea
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king Do you know what I know? (Do you know what I know?) In your palace warm, mighty king Do you know what I know? (Do you know what I know?)
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold Let us bring him silver and gold Let us bring him silver and goldSaid the king to the people everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!) Pray for peace, people, everywhere Listen to what I say! (Listen to what I say!)
