Showing posts with label Church Militant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Church Militant. Show all posts
Monday, November 28, 2011
2:50 PM
And when the king came back out of the garden set with trees, and entered into the place of the banquet, he found Aman was fallen upon the bed on which Esther lay, and he said: He will force the queen also in my presence, in my own house. The word was not yet gone out of the king's mouth, and immediately they covered his face. And Harbona, one of the eunuchs that stood waiting on the king, said: Behold the gibbet which he hath prepared for Mardochai...And the king said to him: Hang him upon it. So Aman was hanged on the gibbet...and the king's wrath ceased. (Esther VII: 8-10)
Queen Esther observed in prayer, before she went before her lord, king, and husband's face, that the threat against the Jews had been visited upon them as punishment for sin. Great then had been her personal mortification before she undertook to save her people. Likewise, she demanded fasting and weeping from them, before she ventured to beg Artaxerxes to spare the lives of the Israelites.
Father Augustyn Kordecki, and later King Jan Kazimierz, made the same observation concerning the Swedish 'Deluge' (1655-1660), the former ascribing that chastisement to the sins of Poland's people, and the latter to the crimes of her rulers. His majesty spoke these words after he had crowned the Virgin as his nation's queen:
As I see, to the great sorrow of my soul, that all the adversities which have fallen upon my Kingdom in the last seven years—the epidemics, the wars, and other misfortunes—were sent by the Supreme Judge as a punishment for the groans and the oppression suffered by the peasants, I promise and vow, after the conquest of peace, in union with all the states, to use all means to free my people from all unjust burdens and oppressions. Grant, Oh most loving Queen and Lady, that I obtain the grace of Thy Son to do all that I propose, and which Thou hast inspired me! (Memoirs of the Siege of Częstochowa, Augustyn Kordecki, C. S. P., translated by Plinio Correa de Oliveira)
This noble resolution was most wisely entrusted to Our Lady's keeping. After all, it had been the miraculous survival of her shrine that had turned the tide of the war in Poland's favour.
Yet, while the great men living through this fiery era beat their breasts for their own sins and prepared to save their fatherland with mortification and repentence, the enemy were unwittingly blunting their own swords by committing iniquities themselves. Like Nabuchodonozor's warrior, Holofernes of the Book of Judith, General Burchard Müller, might have fared better in his campaign against the Catholics of Poland if he had had his own Achior to warn him thusly:
Wheresoever they went in without bow and arrow, and without shield and sword, their God fought for them and overcame. And there was no one that triumphed over this people, but when they departed from the worship of the Lord their God. But as often as beside their own God, they worshipped any other, they were given to spoil, and to the sword, and to reproach. And as often as they were penitent for having revolted from the worship of their God, the God of heaven gave them power to resist. (Judith V: 16-19)
Alas for him, the general's religious sect had ousted that book from Holy Scripture, so he could not profit from its wisdom. Making the same mistake as General Holofernes, he sallied forth in contempt of the Church still revered in Poland, even referring to the shrine he wished to capture as a 'henhouse.' History would soon turn him into another proof that God is not mocked, and only a fool spits on His beloved.
Still, no one could call him unreasonable for expecting the surrender of a single, Polish fortress (and a monastic one at that) when the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had already buckled under the Swedish invasion. And did he not go about the siege with the greatest of human wisdom? Did he not send Polish, Catholic aristocrats and even old friends to treat with those stubborn Paulines? Did he not offer them the hope of preserving their monastery if they would yield? Did he not cajole them not once, but eleven times? One of these emissaries even begged Father Kordecki to give in by threatening the defenders of Jasna Góra with damnation:
...the aim of a religious order is to abstain from temporal matters. What do you have to do with the turbulence of war, you whose rules call you to solitude and silence. Ponder it well, lest the arms which you brandish instead of your Rosaries, carry you to perdition…. (ibid.)
Yet, though the Polish king was a refugee in Silesia, the nobles had surrendered to the invaders, and all tactical and technical prospects of defending the Bright Mountain were bleak, Father Kordecki was driven by one fierce determination--no one who despised Our Lady would stain her sanctuary with his impious feet.
His staunch defiance cannot be justified or condemned in the light of human reason. The probability of clemency on the part of the Swedes would have been a matter for diviners, not logicians. Though defeat was certain, stalling for time in the face of capitulating to an unendurable peace possessed its own wordly wisdom. In the end, surrender is always a gamble, and choosing one side of a coin is not mad.
Can the priest be condemned on religious grounds then? Was the nobleman correct in admonishing him against taking such an active stance on what must in the end be a secular affair--the identity of one's sovereign?
There can be no doubt that fire for one's homeland and the principles of natural pride consumed many of the hearts defending Jasna Góra's walls. But the motto carved above so many portals in Polska is Bóg, Honor, i Ojczyzna. When some of the monks complained against Father Augustyn that it was for God's providence to determine the fate of kings and sovereigns, he did not dispute this fact, but made a new argument:
“…what Faith is ours,” he bellowed, “what love, what gratitude to God Who is so generous to us—that such small damage to our earthly comforts is able to turn us away from the guard and protection of the chest containing the celestial treasures of the eternal King? Let us consider that it is far more prudent for us to defend the integrity of the House of God, the Holy Faith and at the same time our own liberties, than for us to lose all and, in addition, to go into exile and eternal slavery.” (ibid.)
There would be no trust given to the devil, nor a chance for him to commit defamation. This resolve, united with hopeful reports of the king, does much to justify the Pauline's reason, but the feeling remains that there was also something--rather someone--else, who would not allow him to give in. As with Ozias, the Israelite ruler of Bethulia, this someone was very likely a woman.
When Holofernes lay siege to the above-mentioned city, the inhabitants (like those sheltered in the monastery) did not religiously apostatize as they became parched with thirst. Separating their earthly state from their eternal duties, they argued for capitulation on different grounds:
For it is better, that being captives we should live and bless the Lord, than that we should die, and be a reproach to all flesh, after we have seen our wives and our infants die before our eyes. We call to witness this day heaven and earth, and the God of our fathers, who taketh vengeance upon us according to our sins, conjuring you to deliver now the city into the hand of the army of Holofernes, that our end may be short by the edge of the sword, which is made longer by the drought of thirst...
and their ruler, Ozias, was prepared to give in:
Ozias rising up all in tears, said: Be of good courage, my brethren, and let us wait these five days for mercy from the Lord. For perhaps he will put a stop to his indignation, and will give glory to his own name. But if after five days be past there come no aid, we will do the things which you leave spoken.
(Judith VII 16-17, 23-25)
In the modern world, with its restive field of free choice, we so often forget what our individual duties are or if we have any at all. What is explicitly holy or evil is taught to us and inscribed on our hearts, but the things we owe to God and the world as ourselves is a thing we hardly ever stop to consider. Living life according to the universal virtues, it does not often occur to the modern thinker that what is allowed for him, may not be permitted another man or that the reverse may be true.
Hence, while such a resolution as Ozias's is not objectively impious, and a Christian state of today may even be permittied it, it was wrong. The matter was apparent for the noblewoman Judith:
And who are you that tempt the Lord? This is not a word that may draw down mercy, but rather that may stir up wrath, and enkindle indignation.You have set a time for the mercy of the Lord, and you have appointed him a day, according to your pleasure...And therefore let us humble our souls before him, and continuing in an humble spirit, in his service: Let us ask the Lord with tears, that according to his will so he would shew his mercy to us: that as our heart is troubled by their pride, so also we may glorify in our humility. (Judith VIII 11-13, 16-17)
Perhaps the Pauline priest was not reading Judith in his time of great trial, but he responded to a traitorous, Polish lord that came to urge his surrender with the same fire as that great lady:
“On account of former benefits which Your Excellency has conceded to this sanctuary, your life has been spared various times during this siege; but lower thy head, do not abuse the patience of God!” (ibid.)
Yes, lower thy head lest a hand mightier than Judith's sever it as she severed that of Holofernes's. It was not until after the siege, and from the mouth of enemy witnesses, that the Virgin's gallant knights learnt she had been with them all the time:
"What witch is this that is to be found in your cloister of Czestohowa, who covered with a blue mantle sallies from the cloister and walks along the walls, resting from time to time on the bastions – and whose sight makes our people drop with terror, so much so that, when she appears, we have to turn our faces to the ground and protect our eyes?" (ibid.)
However, the Poles had soldiered on by faith and not by sight. That vision which terrified the Swedes had not consoled their earthly eyes. Persevering with the sacraments without fail, honouring Our Lord without fear, and praying without ceasing had been their preservation and sweetness of spirit. In the end, it prevailed in Heaven and on earth.
Queen Esther observed in prayer, before she went before her lord, king, and husband's face, that the threat against the Jews had been visited upon them as punishment for sin. Great then had been her personal mortification before she undertook to save her people. Likewise, she demanded fasting and weeping from them, before she ventured to beg Artaxerxes to spare the lives of the Israelites.
Father Augustyn Kordecki, and later King Jan Kazimierz, made the same observation concerning the Swedish 'Deluge' (1655-1660), the former ascribing that chastisement to the sins of Poland's people, and the latter to the crimes of her rulers. His majesty spoke these words after he had crowned the Virgin as his nation's queen:
As I see, to the great sorrow of my soul, that all the adversities which have fallen upon my Kingdom in the last seven years—the epidemics, the wars, and other misfortunes—were sent by the Supreme Judge as a punishment for the groans and the oppression suffered by the peasants, I promise and vow, after the conquest of peace, in union with all the states, to use all means to free my people from all unjust burdens and oppressions. Grant, Oh most loving Queen and Lady, that I obtain the grace of Thy Son to do all that I propose, and which Thou hast inspired me! (Memoirs of the Siege of Częstochowa, Augustyn Kordecki, C. S. P., translated by Plinio Correa de Oliveira)
This noble resolution was most wisely entrusted to Our Lady's keeping. After all, it had been the miraculous survival of her shrine that had turned the tide of the war in Poland's favour.
Yet, while the great men living through this fiery era beat their breasts for their own sins and prepared to save their fatherland with mortification and repentence, the enemy were unwittingly blunting their own swords by committing iniquities themselves. Like Nabuchodonozor's warrior, Holofernes of the Book of Judith, General Burchard Müller, might have fared better in his campaign against the Catholics of Poland if he had had his own Achior to warn him thusly:
Wheresoever they went in without bow and arrow, and without shield and sword, their God fought for them and overcame. And there was no one that triumphed over this people, but when they departed from the worship of the Lord their God. But as often as beside their own God, they worshipped any other, they were given to spoil, and to the sword, and to reproach. And as often as they were penitent for having revolted from the worship of their God, the God of heaven gave them power to resist. (Judith V: 16-19)
Alas for him, the general's religious sect had ousted that book from Holy Scripture, so he could not profit from its wisdom. Making the same mistake as General Holofernes, he sallied forth in contempt of the Church still revered in Poland, even referring to the shrine he wished to capture as a 'henhouse.' History would soon turn him into another proof that God is not mocked, and only a fool spits on His beloved.
Still, no one could call him unreasonable for expecting the surrender of a single, Polish fortress (and a monastic one at that) when the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had already buckled under the Swedish invasion. And did he not go about the siege with the greatest of human wisdom? Did he not send Polish, Catholic aristocrats and even old friends to treat with those stubborn Paulines? Did he not offer them the hope of preserving their monastery if they would yield? Did he not cajole them not once, but eleven times? One of these emissaries even begged Father Kordecki to give in by threatening the defenders of Jasna Góra with damnation:
...the aim of a religious order is to abstain from temporal matters. What do you have to do with the turbulence of war, you whose rules call you to solitude and silence. Ponder it well, lest the arms which you brandish instead of your Rosaries, carry you to perdition…. (ibid.)
His staunch defiance cannot be justified or condemned in the light of human reason. The probability of clemency on the part of the Swedes would have been a matter for diviners, not logicians. Though defeat was certain, stalling for time in the face of capitulating to an unendurable peace possessed its own wordly wisdom. In the end, surrender is always a gamble, and choosing one side of a coin is not mad.
Can the priest be condemned on religious grounds then? Was the nobleman correct in admonishing him against taking such an active stance on what must in the end be a secular affair--the identity of one's sovereign?
There can be no doubt that fire for one's homeland and the principles of natural pride consumed many of the hearts defending Jasna Góra's walls. But the motto carved above so many portals in Polska is Bóg, Honor, i Ojczyzna. When some of the monks complained against Father Augustyn that it was for God's providence to determine the fate of kings and sovereigns, he did not dispute this fact, but made a new argument:
“…what Faith is ours,” he bellowed, “what love, what gratitude to God Who is so generous to us—that such small damage to our earthly comforts is able to turn us away from the guard and protection of the chest containing the celestial treasures of the eternal King? Let us consider that it is far more prudent for us to defend the integrity of the House of God, the Holy Faith and at the same time our own liberties, than for us to lose all and, in addition, to go into exile and eternal slavery.” (ibid.)
There would be no trust given to the devil, nor a chance for him to commit defamation. This resolve, united with hopeful reports of the king, does much to justify the Pauline's reason, but the feeling remains that there was also something--rather someone--else, who would not allow him to give in. As with Ozias, the Israelite ruler of Bethulia, this someone was very likely a woman.
When Holofernes lay siege to the above-mentioned city, the inhabitants (like those sheltered in the monastery) did not religiously apostatize as they became parched with thirst. Separating their earthly state from their eternal duties, they argued for capitulation on different grounds:
For it is better, that being captives we should live and bless the Lord, than that we should die, and be a reproach to all flesh, after we have seen our wives and our infants die before our eyes. We call to witness this day heaven and earth, and the God of our fathers, who taketh vengeance upon us according to our sins, conjuring you to deliver now the city into the hand of the army of Holofernes, that our end may be short by the edge of the sword, which is made longer by the drought of thirst...
and their ruler, Ozias, was prepared to give in:
Ozias rising up all in tears, said: Be of good courage, my brethren, and let us wait these five days for mercy from the Lord. For perhaps he will put a stop to his indignation, and will give glory to his own name. But if after five days be past there come no aid, we will do the things which you leave spoken.
(Judith VII 16-17, 23-25)
In the modern world, with its restive field of free choice, we so often forget what our individual duties are or if we have any at all. What is explicitly holy or evil is taught to us and inscribed on our hearts, but the things we owe to God and the world as ourselves is a thing we hardly ever stop to consider. Living life according to the universal virtues, it does not often occur to the modern thinker that what is allowed for him, may not be permitted another man or that the reverse may be true.
Hence, while such a resolution as Ozias's is not objectively impious, and a Christian state of today may even be permittied it, it was wrong. The matter was apparent for the noblewoman Judith:
And who are you that tempt the Lord? This is not a word that may draw down mercy, but rather that may stir up wrath, and enkindle indignation.You have set a time for the mercy of the Lord, and you have appointed him a day, according to your pleasure...And therefore let us humble our souls before him, and continuing in an humble spirit, in his service: Let us ask the Lord with tears, that according to his will so he would shew his mercy to us: that as our heart is troubled by their pride, so also we may glorify in our humility. (Judith VIII 11-13, 16-17)
Perhaps the Pauline priest was not reading Judith in his time of great trial, but he responded to a traitorous, Polish lord that came to urge his surrender with the same fire as that great lady:
“On account of former benefits which Your Excellency has conceded to this sanctuary, your life has been spared various times during this siege; but lower thy head, do not abuse the patience of God!” (ibid.)
Yes, lower thy head lest a hand mightier than Judith's sever it as she severed that of Holofernes's. It was not until after the siege, and from the mouth of enemy witnesses, that the Virgin's gallant knights learnt she had been with them all the time:
"What witch is this that is to be found in your cloister of Czestohowa, who covered with a blue mantle sallies from the cloister and walks along the walls, resting from time to time on the bastions – and whose sight makes our people drop with terror, so much so that, when she appears, we have to turn our faces to the ground and protect our eyes?" (ibid.)
However, the Poles had soldiered on by faith and not by sight. That vision which terrified the Swedes had not consoled their earthly eyes. Persevering with the sacraments without fail, honouring Our Lord without fear, and praying without ceasing had been their preservation and sweetness of spirit. In the end, it prevailed in Heaven and on earth.
“Contemplate, oh Poland of posterity, what a great benefit was conferred upon Thee by the Mother of God, whose devotion thy Apostle and martyr Saint Albert, Archbishop of Gniezno, so zealously propagated together with the Roman Catholic Faith! Follow then the holy example of thy forefathers, for, if you guard your devotion to Mary, propagate it zealously, and defend it generously, you will attract even greater mercies and become terrible to the followers of hell! Let Christendom look and admire how courageously our Queen of Heaven and earth protects Her kingdom, and how efficaciously She sends aid to Her subjects, deprived of all human help! May the angel of the armies of the Lord, guardian of Poland, deign to move the heavenly militias to pay homage together with us to the supreme majesty of God for such great benefits and may He, with His powerful hand, disperse all the enemies who ally themselves in order to eradicate from Poland devotion to the Queen of Angels!”
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Sunday, October 9, 2011
In June 1863 after more than two years of bloody conflict the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, Robert E. Lee commanding, slips across the Potomac to begin the invasion of the North...Their objective is to draw the Union army out into the open where it can be destroyed...General Lee knows that a letter has been prepared by the Southern government; a letter which offers peace. It is to be placed on the desk of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States the day after Lee has destroyed the Army of the Potomac somewhere north of Washington... (Opening Narration: Gettysburg, 1993 [emphasis mine])
Surely there are few literal pacifists living on this earth. The majority of us would acknowledge the necessity of violence in the case of self-defense or the defense of others. To feel one's self in danger invokes all the natural instincts necessary to commit physical evils in order to prevent moral evils. Love, which moves us to will the good of another, brings other persons into that realm of one's own being which we wish always to protect. It may even be more intense than the attachment one has to one's literal self. The more loving the husband and father, the more tender the wife and mother, and the more devoted the brother or sister, the more capable they are of turning viciously on a wicked aggressor in a way which they would never even wish their loved ones to witness.
This is rather self-evident to anyone who has truly loved. What is not self-evident is when the ratiocinations of which man alone is capable projects beyond our emotive, animal instincts and thinks of defense in the light of attack. Here the avenging hand falters. Less than two centuries ago, at just such a juncture, i.e., the Mason-Dixon line, thousands of the grey army of the Confederacy, though bound to their General Robert E. Lee with the most intense filial affection, laid down their arms and refused to go further:
'They had volunteered willingly enough to defend their homes,' a regimental historian explained, 'but some did not think it right to invade Northern territory.' _(Landscape Turned Red, Stephen Sears)
On such a subject as attacking in the name of defense, I am writing of something completely out of the reach of my personal sympathies, both as a woman and as one of melancholic temperament. When I hear of one nation bearing swords across the boundaries of another, I shudder with the same repugnance that I would feel on seeing an armed man entering another man's home. Yet, with my reason, I must acknowledge that my emotive reaction is not necessarily an intution of what is true. Reason must govern emotions. 'The heart can and should obey the head.'
An officer of the state must take in a dangerous criminal, even if he must do so before the man's wife and children. Her pleas and their tears must not alter the course of justice. However clemency may wish to provide for these unfortunates later, evil must not be tolerated to spare them pain. The sacredness of the threshold of hearth and home is not an absolute thing in the case of the individual. Nor is it the case with the State. A nation that has been bellicose against another is not often sufficiently rebuked by merely being defeated on the foreign soil where it had no right to go:
Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy, if possible; and when you strike and overcome him, never let up in the pursuit so long as your men have strength to follow... _Stonewall Jackson
The enemy must be pursued and soundly chastened. It is not enough to make a thief return his booty. He must give expiation for the evil in his act--providing some recompense to the injured party. He must be punished enough himself so that he shall never wish to commit the crime again.
Lee therefore justly overruled his generals in taking his army North. What seemed a desecration of the cause to some, was the best chance of ending the war and securing victory. Considerations of feeding the Confederate army and the hopes of impressing--even galvanizing--European allies also played a great part in the decision. The ability to carry a hard or even severe idea into act is the reason choleric men exist. Once vindicated by their minds, they see--and rightly see--that the time has come to lock up their hearts.
Lucy Maud Montgomery observed this well through one of her finest works. In her narrative, it is revealed that it is possible for a woman's husband to have a surgery that may restore his senses after years of living life only half-aware. The trouble is that he was an unkind, selfish, immoral bore beforehand, and his wife's life has at least been easier after her husband became an idiot. Anne naturally wishes to spare the wife, who is also her friend, but the men in her life come down against her:
"Oh, Captain Jim, I didn't think you'd say that," she exclaimed reproachfully. "I thought you wouldn't want to make more trouble for her."
Captain Jim shook his head. "I don't want to. I know how you feel about it, Mistress Blythe-- just as I feel meself. But it ain't our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no, we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set our course by that--what it's right to do. I agree with the doctor. If there's a chance for Dick, Leslie should be told of it. There's no two sides to that, in my opinion."
"Well," said Anne, giving up in despair, "wait until Miss Cornelia gets after you two men."
"Cornelia'll rake us fore and aft, no doubt," assented Captain Jim. "You women are lovely critters, Mistress Blythe, but you're just a mite illogical. You're a highly eddicated lady and Cornelia isn't, but you're like as two peas when it comes to that. I dunno's you're any the worse for it. Logic is a sort of hard, merciless thing, I reckon." (Anne's House of Dreams, Chapter XXX: Leslie Decides)
Leslie's decision was one for the truth. In the end, it set her free. Ergo:
Surely there are few literal pacifists living on this earth. The majority of us would acknowledge the necessity of violence in the case of self-defense or the defense of others. To feel one's self in danger invokes all the natural instincts necessary to commit physical evils in order to prevent moral evils. Love, which moves us to will the good of another, brings other persons into that realm of one's own being which we wish always to protect. It may even be more intense than the attachment one has to one's literal self. The more loving the husband and father, the more tender the wife and mother, and the more devoted the brother or sister, the more capable they are of turning viciously on a wicked aggressor in a way which they would never even wish their loved ones to witness.
This is rather self-evident to anyone who has truly loved. What is not self-evident is when the ratiocinations of which man alone is capable projects beyond our emotive, animal instincts and thinks of defense in the light of attack. Here the avenging hand falters. Less than two centuries ago, at just such a juncture, i.e., the Mason-Dixon line, thousands of the grey army of the Confederacy, though bound to their General Robert E. Lee with the most intense filial affection, laid down their arms and refused to go further:
'They had volunteered willingly enough to defend their homes,' a regimental historian explained, 'but some did not think it right to invade Northern territory.' _(Landscape Turned Red, Stephen Sears)
On such a subject as attacking in the name of defense, I am writing of something completely out of the reach of my personal sympathies, both as a woman and as one of melancholic temperament. When I hear of one nation bearing swords across the boundaries of another, I shudder with the same repugnance that I would feel on seeing an armed man entering another man's home. Yet, with my reason, I must acknowledge that my emotive reaction is not necessarily an intution of what is true. Reason must govern emotions. 'The heart can and should obey the head.'
An officer of the state must take in a dangerous criminal, even if he must do so before the man's wife and children. Her pleas and their tears must not alter the course of justice. However clemency may wish to provide for these unfortunates later, evil must not be tolerated to spare them pain. The sacredness of the threshold of hearth and home is not an absolute thing in the case of the individual. Nor is it the case with the State. A nation that has been bellicose against another is not often sufficiently rebuked by merely being defeated on the foreign soil where it had no right to go:
Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy, if possible; and when you strike and overcome him, never let up in the pursuit so long as your men have strength to follow... _Stonewall Jackson
The enemy must be pursued and soundly chastened. It is not enough to make a thief return his booty. He must give expiation for the evil in his act--providing some recompense to the injured party. He must be punished enough himself so that he shall never wish to commit the crime again.
Lee therefore justly overruled his generals in taking his army North. What seemed a desecration of the cause to some, was the best chance of ending the war and securing victory. Considerations of feeding the Confederate army and the hopes of impressing--even galvanizing--European allies also played a great part in the decision. The ability to carry a hard or even severe idea into act is the reason choleric men exist. Once vindicated by their minds, they see--and rightly see--that the time has come to lock up their hearts.
Lucy Maud Montgomery observed this well through one of her finest works. In her narrative, it is revealed that it is possible for a woman's husband to have a surgery that may restore his senses after years of living life only half-aware. The trouble is that he was an unkind, selfish, immoral bore beforehand, and his wife's life has at least been easier after her husband became an idiot. Anne naturally wishes to spare the wife, who is also her friend, but the men in her life come down against her:
"Oh, Captain Jim, I didn't think you'd say that," she exclaimed reproachfully. "I thought you wouldn't want to make more trouble for her."
Captain Jim shook his head. "I don't want to. I know how you feel about it, Mistress Blythe-- just as I feel meself. But it ain't our feelings we have to steer by through life--no, no, we'd make shipwreck mighty often if we did that. There's only the one safe compass and we've got to set our course by that--what it's right to do. I agree with the doctor. If there's a chance for Dick, Leslie should be told of it. There's no two sides to that, in my opinion."
"Well," said Anne, giving up in despair, "wait until Miss Cornelia gets after you two men."
"Cornelia'll rake us fore and aft, no doubt," assented Captain Jim. "You women are lovely critters, Mistress Blythe, but you're just a mite illogical. You're a highly eddicated lady and Cornelia isn't, but you're like as two peas when it comes to that. I dunno's you're any the worse for it. Logic is a sort of hard, merciless thing, I reckon." (Anne's House of Dreams, Chapter XXX: Leslie Decides)
Leslie's decision was one for the truth. In the end, it set her free. Ergo:
Acting the law we live by without fear;
And, because right is right, to follow right
Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Alfred Lord Tennyson, Œnone
Thus, I have at last come to understand the anniversary celebrated by Poles tomorrow. On 9 October, 1610 Polish squadrons, led by Hetman Stanisław Zolkiewski, entered the Kremlin. This was the culmination of a brilliant military campaign, which had seen such remarkable victories as the Battle of Kłuszyn, where 12,300 soldiers of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth soundly defeated 48,000 Muscovites, near the place which today has taken a darker shade of meaning for Poles: Smoleńsk.
As with all military campaigns, there are causes and concerns as to the integrity and purity of both the idea and the execution of the war. Yet, when a man honours the victories of war, he does not assert that the conflict is sainted, but that the elements which were righteous should be honoured. Of course, that sentiment itself is not a sufficient justification. It is as emotive as repugnance for strife. The scrutiny of reason in the light of morality is the only thing that can justify honouring the bloody mess of war.
It had begun with Polish support of 'False Dmitri', one of the many who aspired to the Russian throne after the death of Ivan IV. This support came mainly from Poland's nobility and not her king. When he was killed in 1606, his followers were also massacred. This sparked the Polish invasion of Russian borders. Here, one may concede some measure of retaliation, but invasion? And why had it been necessary for Poles to support any particular contender for the tsardom to begin with? What right did they have to exacerbate Russia's 'time of troubles'?
Now one must go back further. If we begin with Ivan III, one witnesses the explosion of the Russian state's expansion, justifying Ivan's epithet: the 'gatherer of Russian lands.' One of the lands into which he had stepped to gather was Lithuania, from whom he wanted access to the Baltic Sea. His son, Vasili III continued this campaign of warring and annexing. They were unsuccessful however against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, though they had inflicted enough harm to give those two nations pause.
It should not suprise anyone, regardless of their sympathies, that Poland refused to recognize the vast state of Ivan IV, the successor of his father and grandfather in every way. That would have been political naïveté to the extreme of treason. And perhaps even more than politics, this matter concerned the Faith as well.
In 1569 Ruthenia (Ukraine) was annexed to Poland. Those who have read Polish history will have been overawed by her tolerance of other creeds, even in the midst of religious turmoil elsewhere on the continent. So in Ruthenia, the Roman Catholic Church conquered not by the sword, but by grace.
...the Ruthenians...began to compare the lamentable condition of their Church with the development and vitality of Catholicism and to turn their eyes towards Rome. The Ruthenian clergy were steeped in immorality and ignorance; the bishops made no scruple of setting their flocks an evil example, living in open concubinage, and practising the most brazen simony. Russian documents of the sixteenth century bear witness to this melancholy decay of the Orthodox Church in the Polish provinces and to the impossibility of applying any remedy. Face to face with this spiritual ruin, the Catholic Church, reinvigorated by the accession of Jesuit missionaries, was showing her immense religious and moral superiority. Some loyal and honourable members of the Orthodox clergy and laity gradually became convinced that only a return to the Roman obedience could secure for their Church anything like sound conditions. (http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15130a.htm)
This spawned the Union of Brest, which so overwhelmingly delighted Pope Clement VIII, that he sanctioned without reserve the preservation of the traditions of the Eastern Church, while simultaneously bring her back to the paternal fold of the Vicar of Christ. Russian prelates however did not recognize the embrace of those Latin and Ruthenian bishops. Could there be any reason for this other than that they had wished to bring the flock that had belonged to the Patriarchate of Constantinople into the Patriarchate of Moscow? Alas, that is the only explanation that makes sense, and as Ivan saw himself as a spiritual leader, as well as a temporal one, the faithful of the Russian Orthodox Church anywhere would also be his subjects.
Thus, Polish interest in Russian succession is vindicated. Her retaliation for the murder of Poles taking that interest is justified. Her military campaign and diplomacy evinced in that time is a monument to human ability and should be marked with pride by her children. Whether the scope of her speculated ambitions in Russia were wise or just (some do claim Poland wanted to subjugate Russia to her commonwealth) is a matter for those who dote on the question 'What if?' As that query does not concern reality, it does not concern reason. If we do not cling to that, then we are left with naught but the bigotry of our own passions.
As with all military campaigns, there are causes and concerns as to the integrity and purity of both the idea and the execution of the war. Yet, when a man honours the victories of war, he does not assert that the conflict is sainted, but that the elements which were righteous should be honoured. Of course, that sentiment itself is not a sufficient justification. It is as emotive as repugnance for strife. The scrutiny of reason in the light of morality is the only thing that can justify honouring the bloody mess of war.
It had begun with Polish support of 'False Dmitri', one of the many who aspired to the Russian throne after the death of Ivan IV. This support came mainly from Poland's nobility and not her king. When he was killed in 1606, his followers were also massacred. This sparked the Polish invasion of Russian borders. Here, one may concede some measure of retaliation, but invasion? And why had it been necessary for Poles to support any particular contender for the tsardom to begin with? What right did they have to exacerbate Russia's 'time of troubles'?
Now one must go back further. If we begin with Ivan III, one witnesses the explosion of the Russian state's expansion, justifying Ivan's epithet: the 'gatherer of Russian lands.' One of the lands into which he had stepped to gather was Lithuania, from whom he wanted access to the Baltic Sea. His son, Vasili III continued this campaign of warring and annexing. They were unsuccessful however against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, though they had inflicted enough harm to give those two nations pause.
It should not suprise anyone, regardless of their sympathies, that Poland refused to recognize the vast state of Ivan IV, the successor of his father and grandfather in every way. That would have been political naïveté to the extreme of treason. And perhaps even more than politics, this matter concerned the Faith as well.
In 1569 Ruthenia (Ukraine) was annexed to Poland. Those who have read Polish history will have been overawed by her tolerance of other creeds, even in the midst of religious turmoil elsewhere on the continent. So in Ruthenia, the Roman Catholic Church conquered not by the sword, but by grace.
...the Ruthenians...began to compare the lamentable condition of their Church with the development and vitality of Catholicism and to turn their eyes towards Rome. The Ruthenian clergy were steeped in immorality and ignorance; the bishops made no scruple of setting their flocks an evil example, living in open concubinage, and practising the most brazen simony. Russian documents of the sixteenth century bear witness to this melancholy decay of the Orthodox Church in the Polish provinces and to the impossibility of applying any remedy. Face to face with this spiritual ruin, the Catholic Church, reinvigorated by the accession of Jesuit missionaries, was showing her immense religious and moral superiority. Some loyal and honourable members of the Orthodox clergy and laity gradually became convinced that only a return to the Roman obedience could secure for their Church anything like sound conditions. (http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15130a.htm)
This spawned the Union of Brest, which so overwhelmingly delighted Pope Clement VIII, that he sanctioned without reserve the preservation of the traditions of the Eastern Church, while simultaneously bring her back to the paternal fold of the Vicar of Christ. Russian prelates however did not recognize the embrace of those Latin and Ruthenian bishops. Could there be any reason for this other than that they had wished to bring the flock that had belonged to the Patriarchate of Constantinople into the Patriarchate of Moscow? Alas, that is the only explanation that makes sense, and as Ivan saw himself as a spiritual leader, as well as a temporal one, the faithful of the Russian Orthodox Church anywhere would also be his subjects.
Thus, Polish interest in Russian succession is vindicated. Her retaliation for the murder of Poles taking that interest is justified. Her military campaign and diplomacy evinced in that time is a monument to human ability and should be marked with pride by her children. Whether the scope of her speculated ambitions in Russia were wise or just (some do claim Poland wanted to subjugate Russia to her commonwealth) is a matter for those who dote on the question 'What if?' As that query does not concern reality, it does not concern reason. If we do not cling to that, then we are left with naught but the bigotry of our own passions.
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Saturday, October 1, 2011
Dum praeliarétur Míchael Archángelus cum dracóne, audíta est vox dicéntium: Salus Deo nostro. Allelúia.
There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone...for each comprehended only that part of the mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened, they came to deeper understanding, increased in unison and harmony.
And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed...
Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts, and devices, if he will. But I will sit and heaken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song...'
Now the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men...And amid all the splendours of the World, its vast halls and spaces...Ilúvatar chose a place for their habitation in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars. And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness...But when the Ainur had beheld this habitation in a vision and had seen the Children of Ilúvatar arise therin, then many of the most mighty among them bent all their thought and their desire towards that place...And of these Melkor was the chief, even as he was in the beginning the greatest of the Ainur...And he feigned...that he desired to go thither and order all things for the good of the Children of Ilúvatar...But he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men..to be a master over other wills.
But Manwë was the brother of Melkor in the mind of Ilúvatar, and he was the chief instrument of the second theme that Ilúvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor...And Manwë said unto Melkor: 'This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own, wrongfully, for many others have laboured here no less than thou.'
Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts, and devices, if he will. But I will sit and heaken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song...'
Now the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men...And amid all the splendours of the World, its vast halls and spaces...Ilúvatar chose a place for their habitation in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars. And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness...But when the Ainur had beheld this habitation in a vision and had seen the Children of Ilúvatar arise therin, then many of the most mighty among them bent all their thought and their desire towards that place...And of these Melkor was the chief, even as he was in the beginning the greatest of the Ainur...And he feigned...that he desired to go thither and order all things for the good of the Children of Ilúvatar...But he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men..to be a master over other wills.
But Manwë was the brother of Melkor in the mind of Ilúvatar, and he was the chief instrument of the second theme that Ilúvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor...And Manwë said unto Melkor: 'This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own, wrongfully, for many others have laboured here no less than thou.'
J.R.R. Tolkien, Silmarillon: Ainulindalë
Was Tolkien--whilst uttering the truth of a creed that is several millennia old--correct about the interest that non-material beings take in the affairs of man?
Seventeen years ago, after waking from a dream with eyes moistened in feverish distress, I could not go back to sleep. I thought of waking up someone to talk to, but my sisters sleeping peacefully in the other beds beside me would not have understood my troubles. I thought of Momma and Daddy, but I was the only child in my family that had never returned to my parents' bed after physically outgrowing it. What a strange thing it would be to go back to them at ten years of age. So I lay, clutching the quilt and looking up through the cracks of the blinds covering the window by my bed. The moon was peering down at me, looking very much like a reaper's sickle.
Seventeen years ago, after waking from a dream with eyes moistened in feverish distress, I could not go back to sleep. I thought of waking up someone to talk to, but my sisters sleeping peacefully in the other beds beside me would not have understood my troubles. I thought of Momma and Daddy, but I was the only child in my family that had never returned to my parents' bed after physically outgrowing it. What a strange thing it would be to go back to them at ten years of age. So I lay, clutching the quilt and looking up through the cracks of the blinds covering the window by my bed. The moon was peering down at me, looking very much like a reaper's sickle.
I began pondering whether the Grim Reaper was holy or evil. Though I perceived his duty as morbid, was he not merely a servant? When Scrooge had pleaded with the frightening spectre of Christmas Future, he had said: 'Good Spirit, your nature intercedes for me and pities me...'
Does it? I asked the moon. I thought of the dream again. Earlier that day I had been watching a science programme, likely merely to enjoy the beautiful images of space they afforded. However, I had listened to the staid, learned men on the show as well, and their talk of black holes had made its mark. This final stage of a star's life impressed upon me so vividly, that that night I dreamt I had been floated within and without the cosmos, hand in hand with some being (at first, I thought my guardian angel), that took me to the event horizon of a dead star that was slowly swallowing up the universe into its compressed nothingness.
I had tried to look away, but the guide clamped its hand about my jaw and forced me to stare as everything spindled comically into the black hole. To see such once majestic things as stars and planets stretched to resemble a wet, flopping noodle made the image more repugnant. The creature with me, who had grown morally ambiguous, did not speak. I did not know if it enjoyed the display or not. There was no voice at all, but if the emotions pressing upon me from the void had been vocalized, they would have run thus:
...never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die...
'Ah, no!' I at last said tearfully, and turned away. I felt myself in bed again, real tears in my eyes and with the consciousness that I had spoken aloud.
As I lay fretting, staring at the indigo of space through the pale blinds and the black lace of tree branches, I thought of the factual scientists so indifferently propounding on these scenarios. They were wrong. Whatever was wise or erudite about the sages speaking on such matters, they had no right to be calm in the face of the destruction of things that were. In spite of their ambitions, they ought to have known they could never reduce existence to the amoral system of rules that had no greater interest in men than in the barbs of a sparrow's wing.
Let the empirical scientists be content with their theories reigning 'for the most part', for they shall never obtain the dominion of 'always.' That is a leap of intuition, yes, but one that most of the world have made. The reason is simple: there can be no evil actions without an actor, and the presence of so much evil in the world--moral and physical--demands the existence of agents, for only creatures with volition are not bound absolutely by laws. Hence, there will never be a science of their deeds. Any attempt at such a discipline would itself be superstition.
Now superstition in the literal sense is never wrong. It is but 'standing over a thing in awe and amazement.' Even if the premise of scientism--that all can be reduced to an inanimate, empirical cause--were correct, the mind of man will likely never achieve that exalted state of knowledge. Dana Scully may say, 'Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it,' but that is a statement of faith, not reason, and even if it is true, it is not true simply. The sage and the peasant both do many things in a certain only because those methods have worked in the past. There need not be any rational synthesis to justify their procedures. They stand in awe of the forces of the created world and often find themselves more likely to rely on precedent than pure logic.
And David consulted the Lord: Shall I go up against the Philistines, and wilt thou deliver them into my hands? He answered: Go not up against them, but fetch a compass behind them, and thou shalt come upon them over against the pear trees. And when thou shalt hear the sound of one going in the tops of the pear trees, then shalt thou join battle ( II Samuel V:23-24)
The above is but one of many instances where a spiritual agent acts upon the material order, in this case, after God's own design. It is almost maddening if one concedes that angels are (based upon the teachings of the Church Fathers) the direct operators of the universe. That must be why men most directly exposed to the physical elements--e.g., sailors and farmers--are often so superstitious. Long acquaintance with mysterious cause and devastating effect has served to humble them rather than puff them up. Their empirical experience has also occasionally shown them that things may behave not merely unpredictably, but even contrary to natural laws.
...never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die...
'Ah, no!' I at last said tearfully, and turned away. I felt myself in bed again, real tears in my eyes and with the consciousness that I had spoken aloud.
As I lay fretting, staring at the indigo of space through the pale blinds and the black lace of tree branches, I thought of the factual scientists so indifferently propounding on these scenarios. They were wrong. Whatever was wise or erudite about the sages speaking on such matters, they had no right to be calm in the face of the destruction of things that were. In spite of their ambitions, they ought to have known they could never reduce existence to the amoral system of rules that had no greater interest in men than in the barbs of a sparrow's wing.
Let the empirical scientists be content with their theories reigning 'for the most part', for they shall never obtain the dominion of 'always.' That is a leap of intuition, yes, but one that most of the world have made. The reason is simple: there can be no evil actions without an actor, and the presence of so much evil in the world--moral and physical--demands the existence of agents, for only creatures with volition are not bound absolutely by laws. Hence, there will never be a science of their deeds. Any attempt at such a discipline would itself be superstition.
Now superstition in the literal sense is never wrong. It is but 'standing over a thing in awe and amazement.' Even if the premise of scientism--that all can be reduced to an inanimate, empirical cause--were correct, the mind of man will likely never achieve that exalted state of knowledge. Dana Scully may say, 'Nothing happens in contradiction to nature, only in contradiction to what we know of it,' but that is a statement of faith, not reason, and even if it is true, it is not true simply. The sage and the peasant both do many things in a certain only because those methods have worked in the past. There need not be any rational synthesis to justify their procedures. They stand in awe of the forces of the created world and often find themselves more likely to rely on precedent than pure logic.
And David consulted the Lord: Shall I go up against the Philistines, and wilt thou deliver them into my hands? He answered: Go not up against them, but fetch a compass behind them, and thou shalt come upon them over against the pear trees. And when thou shalt hear the sound of one going in the tops of the pear trees, then shalt thou join battle ( II Samuel V:23-24)
The above is but one of many instances where a spiritual agent acts upon the material order, in this case, after God's own design. It is almost maddening if one concedes that angels are (based upon the teachings of the Church Fathers) the direct operators of the universe. That must be why men most directly exposed to the physical elements--e.g., sailors and farmers--are often so superstitious. Long acquaintance with mysterious cause and devastating effect has served to humble them rather than puff them up. Their empirical experience has also occasionally shown them that things may behave not merely unpredictably, but even contrary to natural laws.
Here the learned may shake their heads. Why is men so anthropocentric? Why would beings of such incredible understanding and power be so engrossed with the affairs of one world? With the actions of fragile, fallibe creatures that eat, sweat, and defecate? It seems beneath their dignity, as if they were like those bored Greek gods that could not even let the Achaeans, Argives, and Danaans have a footrace on the plains of Ilium without interfering.
However, the learned who espouse such a view seem not to have noticed they are asking a question regarding motive. They ignore the fact that motives belong only to individuals and they may be enmeshed with all sorts of forces outside the realm of logic: 'The heart has its reasons, of which reason knows nothing.'
Have we, as children of men, not stood on peaked mountain balds, inhaling the rarefied air around us until we were giddy with its thinness? Or have we not gazed with heartbreak on radiant sunsets illuminating slender lunar crescents? Have we not occasionally wandered from the common path of the forest into a mossy glen embued with a fae mist? Whatever form the natural raptures we have known took, we have had them. And what did we want in those places of such transcendent splendour? Did we not want the wind, the peaks, the sun, the colours, or even the moss to speak to us? To feel some return of our love from the beloved object? What would have delighted us more than if a nymph or god were to arise from the essence of these things and offer us some acknowledgement? Aye, as beautiful as inanimate things are, sentient things shall always be best.
Angels know that even better than we do, and are less likely to prefer a mountain to man for its bulk than man is himself:
...And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness...
Or as Chesterton put it: 'One may understand the cosmos, but never the ego; the self is more distant than any star.' The will of the stupidest, shallowest human being is more interesting than the wheel of the universe.
It should not surprise us then how the Church has taught us to approach the Prince of the Heavenly Host, as our tender guardian, rather than a demanding sergeant frowning on our material limitations. In the Old Rite, his name comes third in the Public Confession. At the end of Mass, his prayer immediately follows Our Lady's. His dominion holds over clement hospitals as well as militant hosts. Why?
Angels, we must remember, are individuated according to function. What is their function? Their intellectual grasp of God, whether it is employed to praise or to blaspheme. When the mighty seraphim, the Bearer of Light, set himself up as equal to God, the first being to denounce this outrageous pride was the one defined by his humility and awe. He was the seraphim who rose up and, naming himself, thundered:
That is his thought; that is his being. It is only reasonable that this eternal person takes the greatest interest in how his battle against Satan plays out in temporal affairs, and being so humble, will not scorn the war on any scale. He shall certainly not remain inactive where his nemesis is prowling.
It should not surprise us then how the Church has taught us to approach the Prince of the Heavenly Host, as our tender guardian, rather than a demanding sergeant frowning on our material limitations. In the Old Rite, his name comes third in the Public Confession. At the end of Mass, his prayer immediately follows Our Lady's. His dominion holds over clement hospitals as well as militant hosts. Why?
Angels, we must remember, are individuated according to function. What is their function? Their intellectual grasp of God, whether it is employed to praise or to blaspheme. When the mighty seraphim, the Bearer of Light, set himself up as equal to God, the first being to denounce this outrageous pride was the one defined by his humility and awe. He was the seraphim who rose up and, naming himself, thundered:
'Mi ke El?'
Who is like God?
Sáncte Míchael Archángele, defénde nos in proélio, cóntra nequítiam et insídias diáboli ésto prćsídium. Ímperet ílli Déus, súpplices deprecámur: tuque, prínceps milítić cɶléstis, Sátanam aliósque spíritus malígnos, qui ad perditiónem animárum pervagántur in múndo, divína virtúte, in inférnum detrúde.
Ámen
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Wednesday, September 7, 2011
I was staying the night in Częstochowa for the Mass of the Assumption this time. There was perfect freedom this year in how I reckoned my time, and how blessed a gift that was! As today was Sunday, the Mass said at Jasna Góra would not be the vigil of Our Lady's feast, so on one of the rest stops, I paused to read the vigil Mass by myself. The Lesson of the fourteenth of August is one of my favourite passages in Holy Scripture, as well as from one of my favourite books. Truly, if our separated brethren had not rejected Ecclesiasticus, they would not stiffen at the embrace of the Blessed Virgin Mary:
As the vine I have brought forth a pleasant odour: and my flowers are the fruit of honour and riches. I am the mother of fair love, and of fear, and of knowledge, and of holy hope. In me is all grace of the way and of the truth, in me is all hope of life and of virtue.
Come over to me, all ye that desire me, and be filled with my fruits. For my spirit is sweet above honey, and my inheritance above honey and the honeycomb. My memory is unto everlasting generations. They that eat me, shall yet hunger: and they that drink me, shall yet thirst. He that hearkeneth to me, shall not be confounded: and they that work by me, shall not sin.
They that explain me shall have life everlasting. (Ecclesiasticus XXIV:23-31)
As I leaned my brow upon my missal, I thought that perhaps I had not forfeited so much in being unable to petition anymore. Though not always possessing a happy or willing spirit on the matter, it was good for me that all I could hope for were these consolations spoken of here. Strangely, Father Grzegorz spoke to us, before we plodded on the next six miles, (with dear Ola translating again) that we should not be discouraged if our lives did not change after this pilgrimage. Rather, we should think of all our spiritual efforts being gathered like dew into a great bowl, from which God would portion out mercy according to His wisdom. There is no better way of perceiving the matter.
The wait to enter Jasna Góra did not seem so long this year, and the weather, so much more clement! The crowds gathered about as as congenially as all the souls we met, though naturally a few quirky incidents had to take place. One sweet, old lady came up to me, embraced me, and then asked if I were a Muslim, much to the amusement of my companions standing about. 
'Nie,' I responded hastily, though I hope graciously, and arranged my shawl in another manner. Yet, it had not been too different from the ladies in their kerchiefs and chapel veils about me. One day though, people of the Church will remember that “In doubt, the revocation of a previous law is not presumed,” (Canon 21), and women would again exploit their opportunity to catechize the world and reap the fruits of observing what was not abrogated in the Code of 1917. And on that day, it will not matter how a lady chooses to veil herself. Until then, she best make sure her wrists are showing to avoid confusion over her affiliation.
Singing and praying all continued as we stood. Other pilgrim divisions, which had arrived that morning, came to smile and chat. People moved and up and down the lines to greet those whom they knew, though swiftly returning to their place in the formation. The children were wonderfully patient, and we were often exchanging gleeful expressions with one another. We were so near.
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| Thanks to Marzena and Basia! |
It produced such a thrill, again like a culmination. Now it resembled that moment towards the end of G. K. Chesterton's novel The Ball and the Cross, when the hero has an epiphany:
It's hard to explain, anyhow. An apocalypse is the opposite of a dream. A dream is falser than the outer life. But the end of the world is more actual than the world it ends. I don't say this is really the end of the world, but it's something like that--it's the end of something. All the people are crowding into one corner. Everything is coming to a point. (Chapter XIX: The Last Parley)
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| Thank you Marzena and Basia! |
My eyes being like Evan MacIan's, I did not quite see the 'point' too 'large and plain' to be visible to puny human eyes, yet I did see something after we had passed through the gates, courtyard, and threshold of the Chapel of the Mother of God. We all gazed with love on the resplendent end of our journey. She is always the same, yet it is amazing how we change around her. We went to our knees, many I'm sure with tears in our eyes. As the year before, I wept and bowed my head, but this time I felt I heard her speak within me. This was the tone of Judith, Our Lady as the Hetmana, regal and strong as well as maternal and gentle:
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Will you be my subject?
I nodded, answering with nothing else for the moment. The next day, as the bus wound its way through narrow roads still under construction, back the 165 miles to Warszawa, I did finally ask. What does it mean for me to be your subject? I ask it still every night, but there is the grace to wait. The precious fruit of this pilgrimage (for me) may be summed up thusly: a soul in the Lord's service should not be discouraged by the words:
'Arise, and go into the city, and there it shall be told thee what thou must do.'
Sunday, August 21, 2011
It was St. Cajetan's feastday again, and it would unfold well nigh identically to the year before. It would begin with a pleasant morning cool that in spite of our newly broken-in feet, we would embrace with
gusto, stopping for a pleasant second breakfast on the way. Later, the heat would be scorching one of our longest routes (22 miles that day), and in spite of my best efforts (more food and more hydration than the year before), I would still nearly faint in the church of Goszczyn during Mass, though knowing what was happening that time, I remained for Holy Communion. Aï! It would appear that what is past is indeed prologue.
Still, even if events do not change, we do. I cannot speak for the whole group, but as the heat intensified, those around me seemed to grow more silent, turning their thoughts towards personal ruminations of their own choosing. That is certainly what I did, and I found myself thinking more fervently than ever of Brother Cajetan Gavronich.
All those of the Slavic tongue would be amused at my family's American way of saying our dear friend's name, /Kædʒetæn Gævrənɪtʃ/, but the homeliness of the pronunciation suited what he was in life. He was like an immortal ray from the moon momentarily imprisoned in flesh, yet never varying according to the flesh. I knew him when he was old, and from the first day to the last, his face was as smiling and unwrinkled as that of a child's. His spirit was as energetic and joyful, yet he was as selfless and giving as a column of the Earth. He had a massive impact on my spiritual life, and he was forever entangled with my personal devotion to the Church, so I found myself that day thinking more of the second Saint Cajetan than the first. And a saint he is indeed.
I met him when my mother took me as a little girl to say rosaries outside the now vanquished abortion mill of our city. He was the only cleric of the group that I remember ever being there, an Alexian brother not allowed to bury the victims of that place, but at least piously rendering them recognition. At that time, he was but to me a nice, old man, who I remember giving me holy cards of Saint Faustina Kowalska and who instructed me concerning the Divine Mercy Chaplet.
Rosaries would become the Koronka do Miłosierdzia Bożego if Protestants should come to join us in prayer for an end to abortion. They could not say an Ave perhaps, but they could ask God for mercy. They even swallowed their scruples in repeating the request over and over again. I suppose that is when the seed was planted in me, which would one day become a vine, pulling me into Poland. Yet, devotion to Our Lady of Częstochowa had not yet been instilled. That came later.
My mother and Brother Cajetan had a great deal in common on the grounds of promoting the Gospel of Life over the Culture of Death, but there was more to the intellectual nature of their friendship. At the age of twelve, I was soon to be acquainted with the word 'geopolitical.' That year, my mother gave me a book she had bought years before, one with a title that had always intrigued me: The Keys of This Blood, to read for my history class that year (I was homeschooled from twelve to seventeen). Whenever she and Brother Cajetan met, there was often an exchange of taped i
nterviews and books by the same author, and so I came to have the greatest faith in--and personal attachment to--the man who would become my spiritual father, Malachi Martin, S.J.
It was this Irish priest who introduced the 'Primate of the Millenium' to my family, and as my child's mind was beginning to comprehend the diabolic, global political and social mechanisms in place against all that I held most dear, it was to these words of Stefan Cardinal Wyszyński that I clung:
Certain historical developments are willed by the Lord of History, and they shall take place. About many other--mostly minor--developments, that same Lord is willing. He allows men the free will to choose between various options, and He will go along with those choices; for, in the end,
all human choices wll be co-opted as grist into God's mill, which grinds slowly, but always grinds exceedingly fine.
(Malachi Martin, The Keys of this Blood, Prologue: The Servant of the Grand Design)
all human choices wll be co-opted as grist into God's mill, which grinds slowly, but always grinds exceedingly fine.
As I progressed through the work, I was awed at how the Jesuit delved into the intricate histories of the three major world powers (the Church as headed by John Paul II, Communism as led by Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev, and the Capitalist West). Nearing the close of the book, the writer brought me to a place that at the time, I could not have even pronounced the name:
By the time that much prepared date August 26, 1968, rolled around, there was nobody in Poland who was unaware of what would be transacted at the monastery of Częstochowa on Jasna Góra--the Bright Mountain--with Mary as Queen of Poland...
....Wyszyński himself presided over the ceremonies at Częstochowa. Over a quarter of a million pilgrims gathered on the hillside around the monastery and again responded to the words of national dedication. True, the militia was present. Extra government troops, police battalions and teams of Zomos--bully boys--stood by watchfully, but not daring to make any move. While the voices of that quarter million rang out again and again--''Yes! We swear it!''--in response to the ritual requests for their assent to the dedication, the same ceremony was being performed at literally thousands of locations throughout Poland...
...It was Archbishop Wojtyła's function to piece all of it together in words. He spoke of the ''supernatural current'' let loose by the millenial celebrations of Jasna Góra...he hammered home the supreme lesson: "Our temporal theology demands that we dedicate ourselves into the hands of the Holy Mother. May we all live up to our tasks."
(ibid., Book II: The Geopolitics of Faith, Part Six: The Vision of the Servant, Chapter 30: Papal Training Ground: Under the Sign of Solidarność)
Half a year before I was reading this, my mother had been in a religious article shop in Memphis, Tennessee. We were all suffering while one of my younger sisters was heroically battling childhood cancer, and thus we were constantly searching the realm of Sacraments and sacramentals for consolation. The store was owned by a convert to the Russian Orthodox Church, and perhaps that was what had lured my mother in, as we none of us had a liking for religious kitsch, and saccharine Virgin Marys dressed in anæmic pink and baby blue are not the stock and store of the Eastern churches.
My mother did tell the man she was Catholic (and proud of the fact on seeing his adverse reaction) and asked if there was anything he would recommend her purchasing. She walked out of his store with an icon of Our Lady of Vladimir and the Black Madonna. He had not exactly been very informative about the latter, saying mostly that she was a 'bridge between East and West,' but that is how she came to be in our family. As a girl, I only knew that her image and Our Lady of Guadalupe's dominated my mind and devotions with a fearful power. It was the serene, regal face with a delicate nose, oriental eyes, and pensive mouth that I beheld during the family rosaries. The then unpronounceable name of the city from whence she presided was as distant and exalted in my imagination as Eden.
My mother did tell the man she was Catholic (and proud of the fact on seeing his adverse reaction) and asked if there was anything he would recommend her purchasing. She walked out of his store with an icon of Our Lady of Vladimir and the Black Madonna. He had not exactly been very informative about the latter, saying mostly that she was a 'bridge between East and West,' but that is how she came to be in our family. As a girl, I only knew that her image and Our Lady of Guadalupe's dominated my mind and devotions with a fearful power. It was the serene, regal face with a delicate nose, oriental eyes, and pensive mouth that I beheld during the family rosaries. The then unpronounceable name of the city from whence she presided was as distant and exalted in my imagination as Eden.
And now, I was going there on foot for the second time! I find that
discomfort has a dual tendency in me to either render a trial more mundane or more mystical by its presence. Amidst my contemplations, I seesawed between the two extremes the whole day, sometimes humourously setting each visibile landmark as my next goal before I would ask someone to carry me, then putting off the question until the next landmark.
Other times, I thought of the past that had brought me on the journey again, and wondered if a certain Alexian religious brother might be gazing down on me and using my efforts for some purpose dear to him on Earth.
God love you, Brother Cajetan!
(Evidence of the aforementioned heat, as Father Grzegorz here rather fittingly looks the part of Lawrence of Polonia :)
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Saturday, June 26, 2010
An old observation which was previously published on 02/02/2008 at foolishnessntears.blog.com:
It is done! Our brethren in Vietnam need fear no further harm, for through their valiance and the intercession of the Vatican the apostolic nuncio of Hanoi has been restored to the Church. Deo gratias!
It is done! Our brethren in Vietnam need fear no further harm, for through their valiance and the intercession of the Vatican the apostolic nuncio of Hanoi has been restored to the Church. Deo gratias!
And now, alas only after further persecution and tribulation, the Holy See will at last appoint a permanent representative in Hanoi!
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About Me
- Jacobitess
- Warsaw, Poland
- Domine, spero quia mundum vicisti. Lord, I trust that Thou hast overcome the world. Panie, ufam, żeś pokonał świat.