The Last Wave By

“Give me my robes. I am wild in my beholding.” – Shakespeare’s Pericles

The comic sage O. Henry once made the following observation in his novel Cabbages and Kings:

There is a quaint old theory that man may have two souls – a peripheral one which serves ordinarily, and a central one which is stirred only at certain times, but then with activity and vigour. While under the domination of the former a man will shave, vote, pay taxes, give money to his family, buy subscription books and comport himself on the average plan. But let the central soul suddenly become dominant, and he may, in the twinkling of an eye, turn upon the partner of his joys with furious execration; he may change his politics while you could snap your fingers; he may deal out deadly insult to his dearest friend; he may get him, instanter, to a monastery or a dance hall; he may elope, or hang himself – or he may write a song or poem, or kiss his wife unasked, or give his funds to the search of a microbe. Then the peripheral soul will return; and we have our safe, sane citizen again.

It is the task of the devil to make man disbelieve in his central soul and believe only in things peripheral and inconsequential. ‘I see nothing at all, yet all that is I see.’ The devil labored long and hard to convince the European that the peripheral, material world was all there was. He has succeeded. The modern world is the world as Satan always dreamed it would be. And the modern European sees no difference between Liberaldom and Christian Europe because the modern European does not believe in the central things of the soul. When you point out acts of heroic chivalry and Christian charity from the European past, the modern European will simply re-label those acts of heroism and charity as acts of cowardice and self-interest. Whatever is noble in the past, whatever points to the spiritual realm, is re-labeled to fit in with a modern materialist view of reality. The modern science called psychology, for instance, is nothing more than an attempt to refashion things of the spirit into a materialist garment. Reality is made to fit the liberal’s abstractions. In his fantasy world man is a glorified ape, so the world must be structured to accommodate glorified apes. If anyone suggests the world should be anything other than a world fit for glorified apes, the rulers of Liberaldom will silence that person by whatever means necessary.

I’ve never cared for the science fiction genre because I don’t find the future very interesting. It is the past, where the heroes of Europe dwell that is fascinating. We are currently living through a real life version of a sci-fi horror film. The antique European living in Liberaldom is living in a world more remote and antithetical to everything he holds sacred than any alien world ever created by a writer of science fiction.

Picture a planet where black barbarians are worshipped as gods, babies are tortured and murdered at the behest of hermaphrodite creatures, and religious leaders preach a doctrine of mandatory hatred of the white race. Ming the Merciless once landed on the planet and left because it was too merciless for his liking. Of course we’re talking about Liberaldom, and the story is not very funny because we live in Liberaldom.

All writers of futuristic literature, with the possible exception of George Orwell, predicted that the totalitarian regimes of the future would be right-wing totalitarian regimes. Where are those regimes? All we see around us are left-wing dystopias, all centered on one basic premise: the black race is a sanctified race, and the white race is a demon race. And there can be no place for the white in the new utopian state because the premise upon which Liberaldom was built was the premise that everything from the European past is evil. Europeans who repudiate their past can avoid extermination for a small space of time, but in the end they will face the death they sought to avoid by sacrificing other whites (it is always other whites) to the seven-headed hydra of Liberaldom.

A superficial comparison of Liberaldom and Christendom reveals men and women in a daily struggle for existence dealing with the peripheral material aspects of life. But if we look deeper we see a great difference between Liberaldom and Christendom. In Liberaldom there is no awareness of the central soul. In fact the liberal denies its existence. All of life consists of “on we work without the light,” going toward a kingdom of endless carnal pleasure. The European of the good old stock believed something different from the modern liberal. He believed in “on we worked and waited for the light.” The man with a central soul knows that the minutiae of life must be attended to, but he does not forget that life, real life, consists of the white moments of grace. Those moments are part of our soul, a thing eternal, and they go with us into eternity when we stand before God.

A life without white moments is not a life; it is death in life. Every day I see young white people, who should, if they were still linked to their European heritage, make me think of pastoral comedies such as As You Like It and marriage feasts from Much Ado About Nothing. But I don’t see the animation of the European in their eyes; they do not make me think of pastoral comedies and marriage feasts. Instead I think of Nikolai Gogol’s novel Dead Souls. The white man tells his children there is no central soul, and then bids them look to the black race for the ultimate meaning of life. What meaning is there in blackness? Look behind the mask of blackness, and we see a death’s head. The unbought grace of life has been squandered by the white men in a futile attempt to replace love for God, for kith, for kin, with love of the generic black man. But a generic love is an airy nothing.

The eternal battle against principalities and powers does not cease because white people no longer believe they have souls. The battle continues on a different front. When whites believed in Him, they fought against the devil and his minions. Now that Europeans have forsaken their God and the passionate love of their kith and kin that stems from the love of God, they have been herded into concentration camps throughout the world. Satan and the liberals regard such white people as prisoners of war, but the sheep-like Europeans believe they are living life to the fullest; they are happy if they are allowed to live life by proxy through the great black gods of the natural world. At times the white people in the prison camps – and some of the camps are quite plush – get a vague sense of something missing in their lives. But they fill the void with drugs, sex, and an increased involvement in the black-worshipping, Christian churches without Jesus Christ. Young and old, particularly the young, are told that paradise, the future world of pleasure without pain, can only be obtained by worshipping and serving the black gods of Liberaldom. I saw that a young Irishman, just 22 years of age, won the U. S. Open Golf Tournament. The press lauded him for his “growth.” And what was his growth? He went to Haiti and spent time with the sacred black people of Haiti. The pathetic, indoctrinated caricature of a European came back chastened and ashamed, vowing to be a better man and not so insular and white. Does anyone care to point out that the Haitians would not need the continued support of the white Europeans if they had not massacred the French Europeans who once ruled their country with a charity that the Haitians could not understand and took for weakness? No, I don’t suppose anyone did point that out. It’s not intrinsically wrong for a white man to make a goodwill trip to an African country. But it is wrong to appease the rulers of Liberaldom by worshipping at the shrine of their black gods to the detriment of the oppressed and disenfranchised white people all over the world, particularly in nations such as Rhodesia and South Africa. Let white sports heroes visit the surviving family members of murdered whites in Africa, the United States, and Europe if they want to do genuine charitable outreach. Charity is hard, not easy, and it begins with a man’s own kith and kin.

The institutionalized hatred for the white man has bred a kind of hybrid Christianity among the halfway-house Christians who want to retain some vague connection to Christianity but do not want to challenge the new Christ-less Christian theology of liberalism. The halfway-house Christians stay “Christian” by abandoning traditional European-based Christianity and fusing their Christianity with Judaism and Negro worship, a kind of Christian-Jewish-pagan mix. It’s not the religion of Jesus Christ, the religion of our European ancestors; it is an anti-European faith which is more acceptable to the rulers of Liberaldom.

I once, while attending what we shall laughingly call an institution of “higher” learning, attended a lecture on the subject of the European’s loss of a sense of the sacred. The lecturer’s analysis seemed to be accurate. He placed the blame on rationalism and science. But he followed up his analysis with a plea of impotence: “We are all Hegelian rationalists now,” he intoned; “What can we do about it? There is no going back. We can’t pretend to believe that [meaning Christianity] which we, as rational men, cannot believe.”

Of course the assumption behind the lecturer’s plea of impotence was that scientific, rational thought is the highest summit of thought. The lecturer and his rational, scientific colleagues were drawing conclusions about existence without having plunged to the heart of existence. They had left out the poetic of life. What philosophy and theology cannot fathom, poetry can. Christ, the King of Poets, speaks only to those who have reached the poetic depths; He speaks to men of blood, not to men of intellect. The European fairy tale has not been refuted by the rational and the scientific “thinkers”; it has been left for dead by those who thought the abstractions they created from their pygmy brains, that missed man’s central soul, were accurate representations of reality.

The age of chivalry is only dead in the peripheral, statistical world of the rationalist bureaucrats, who worship in the fusionist churches of modernity. In our old European home, chivalry still lives. And those who live by the chivalric code, the code of the European, are not daunted by numbers, by principalities, or by powers. “He that endures to the end shall be saved.” +

This Our Greatest Battle

We now are joined, and ne’er shall sever;
This hearth’s our own…
-- Gerald Griffin

In the face of the most devastating earthquake of modern times, the Japanese people are behaving with incredible courage and fortitude. If we compare the way the Japanese have handled their national disaster with the way the Americans handled the New Orleans flood, we are left with a very disturbing portrait of the Americans. And if you tell me that it was only black people who responded to the crisis of a flood with the savagery of wild animals, I would completely agree with you. The white Europeans responded just as heroically to their crisis as the Japanese are responding to theirs. But the European Americans have committed themselves to the inhuman idea that race has nothing to do with a nation’s identity. If you claim a mixed race nation can be a strong, healthy nation then you can’t make excuses when your multiracial nation fails to respond to disasters as well as a racially homogeneous nation does.

It’s not my intention to glorify the Japanese people; they have institutionalized infanticide and elevated capitalist greed to even higher levels than the Americans, but they have shown the European people, if the European people had eyes to see, what a culturally homogeneous people, as distinct from a culturally diverse people, can do in the face of a national disaster.

The Europeans were once a homogeneous people and their record of heroism in the face of disaster and charitable outreach to kith, kin, and the stranger was unparalleled in human history. But unless Europe is restored the world will never see such heroism and charity again. The liberals have already told us that there was really no such thing as heroic and charitable Europeans. “The age of chivalry is not dead; it never existed.” So they say, but they are mad-dog liberals who are in a desperate flight from reality; they can’t be relied upon to tell the truth about anything of a spiritual nature. Nor can the colored tribes be relied upon to tell the truth about things of the spirit, though there is a huge difference between the European liberal and the people of color. The colored tribesman cannot tell the truth about spiritual things because he doesn’t know of such things; the liberal cannot tell the truth about the life of the spirit because he denies its existence.

The traditional faiths of the colored peoples are all grounded in fantasy; they are untrue. The colored tribesman, be he Asian, African, Indian, whatever, does not have to deny his own people in order to cling to his fantastical and often very fulfilling (from a pagan standpoint) faith. The European does have to deny his own people if he is to escape reality. Christ was and is the white man’s burden. If the liberal is going to escape from the living God, he must escape from everything European. He must eradicate, with the fury of the satanically possessed, everything that is distinctly and uniquely European. And of course the most distinctive and unique tradition of the European was his faith in the Son of God. That crucial distinction between the colored and the white – the white must eradicate his heritage in order to escape reality and the colored must embrace his heritage in order to escape reality – is the reason white people are committing racial suicide and colored people are holding fast to their own race and exploiting the suicidal tendencies of the white race.

It’s easy to see why the pre-Christian pagan wanted to escape reality – life without faith in Christ is unbearable. The greatest of the pagan poets was Sophocles. And what was his opinion of existence? Better never to have been born. All pagan religions, despite their many and varied ways of dealing with their cosmic complaints, all seek an escape from the inexorable laws of nature by either losing themselves in nature, as in the sex and blood cults, or separating themselves from the pain of existence in the natural world by mentally divorcing themselves from the world, as the contemplative sects do, but all pagan religions are escapist religions.

The white European wants to return to paganism; he finds life under the Christian mantle to be too painful. However, he can’t quite manage a smooth transition from Christianity to paganism. He has lost the Christian faith of his ancestors, but he can’t shake his ancestors’ disbelief in paganism. The result? The liberal combines secularized Christianity, which is utopianism, with paganism. The liberal performs all the pagan rituals, but he does so using new age terminology. The ritual slaughter of infants becomes ‘legalized abortion’ and ‘planned parenthood’; the worship of the Negro is called ‘civil rights’ and ‘diversity’; and the extermination of the whites is called ‘social justice.’

The question that we need to ask is, “Why does the white European want to escape from the Christian faith?” He wants to escape from Christianity because the living God exists only in the depths, and it is painful to live in the depths. Most of a man’s life is spent dealing with superficialities and minutiae. The pagan religious systems and the halfway house Christian churches are set up to deal with a man’s need for gods who will help him with the daily natural shocks that flesh is heir to. Dostoevsky addressed that point in the Brothers Karamazov. His Grand Inquisitor rebukes Christ for rating men too highly. He tells Him men don’t want depth; they want bread, authority, and mystery. The Grand Inquisitor makes a good case for a religion of superficiality, and his program has been adopted in all the formerly Christian churches which now preach Negro worship under the guise of Christianity.

Let’s say it outright: Christianity is an agonizing faith. Most of our life is spent on the surface of existence, because to be always plunging to the depths is incredibly painful. So rather than be comfortless, the apostate European seeks the mundane gods of paganism, just as the Israelites returned to Baal as soon as Moses went up to the mountain. But the white moments? Can a man live without white moments? I still maintain that the European cannot live without depth. In Lord Jim Conrad depicts a man, Lord Jim, who lives and dies according to a spiritual ideal. When he is dead, his friend is often inspired by his life and death, but at other times Lord Jim passes from his eyes.

Is he satisfied – quite, now, I wonder? We ought to know. He is one of us—and have I not stood up once, like an evoked ghost, to answer for his eternal constancy? Was I so very wrong after all? Now he is no more, there are days when the reality of his existence comes to me with an immense, with an overwhelming force; and yet upon my honour there are moments, too, when he passes from my eyes like a disembodied spirit astray amongst the passions of this earth, ready to surrender himself faithfully to the claim of his own world of shades.

Christ lives in the depths of the human heart. If we never go there He will pass from our eyes and we will dwell in the land of the pagan gods forever.

Liberaldom is maintained with the armor of superficiality. Every book written by an antique, Christian European comes with a preface by a scholar (translation: a liberal) that either puts the author in a neat, psychological, secular box or tells us that he was racist and/or sexist, and therefore damned – in a metaphorical sense, of course, because we all know there is no eternal damnation, just the damnation of being denied a place in Liberaldom. In the same vein I once read a “scholarly” account of the ill-fated voyage of the Titanic. The moral eunuch who wrote the article took great pleasure in quoting newspaper articles written at the time of the tragedy in which the men who gave their lives so that their wives and children could survive were quoted as saying, “Pip, pip, cheerio, have a good day” and other such British-isms. The thrust of the modern cynic’s criticism was that the men didn’t say “Pip, pip, cheerio, etc.” But does the absence of a “Pip, pip, cheerio” negate the fact that the men on the Titanic acted according to the highest standards of Christian chivalry? “Bury them all in the superficiality of snide remarks and the satanic sneer” is the liberal mantra. “To live by their code is to live in the depths, which I must avoid at all costs.”

We tend to think of hell in graphic Dantesque images, but I think modern Liberaldom is a very close approximation of what the real hell is like – the hell of superficiality. By my mid-twenties I had made the pilgrim’s regress to the God of the Europeans which was a faith diametrically opposed to the faith of my older sister, who was a mad-dog liberal. At a family gathering I got a chance to take a long walk with my sister, whom I had not seen for several years. Young men in their twenties have an inflated opinion of their own persuasiveness and of the effectiveness of rational apologetics. I was guilty on both counts. I was sure I could convince my sister of the absurdity of liberalism and the truth of Christianity. What I encountered shocked me. I was not shocked by my sister’s atheism – that was expected – but I was shocked by the superficiality of her atheism. I was prepared for Ivan Karamazov, and I got Phil Donahue (or Phyllis Donahue, if you want the correct gender). “Why were there no women or blacks at the Last Supper?” “People used to believe in God, because they were afraid of lightning.” That conversation was hellish, and a world dominated by such superficiality is hell.

When I read the literature of the presiding anti-Christian caretakers occupying the buildings that were once Christian European churches, I am thrown back in time to that conversation with my mad-dog liberal sister. Have you heard these (we dare not call them Christians) purveyors of superficial filth pontificate?

• “Heaven is multiracial so our churches must be multiracial.”
• “We need to de-anglicize our church services.”
• “Why are there so few canonized black saints?”

On and on it goes. Where does it end? It ends in hell of course, where the master of the superficial revels lets his superficial neophytes boil in their own banal, superficial juices.

We reach the God of the depths through the little things of the heart. I love the imagery in C. S. Lewis’s magnificent masterpiece, The Chronicles of Narnia. The children reach Aslan’s land through a wardrobe in an old English house, where kith and kin gather. Such sacred houses are the stuff that our European dreams are made on. In the depths of our soul we know those dreams are the only reality; the rest, the world of Liberaldom, is the superficial dross of the devil.

One tiny sacred Heart was once enough to illuminate the Europeans’ world. The path back to that Sacred Heart leads through our old, non-diverse, European home. Surely our European home is worth fighting for? Can the European, who once shared his hearth fire with the Living God, settle for the superficiality of non-stop images of Negro gods on the television screen? The battle for our European home and the battle for our God is the same battle. We cry from the depths, “O Lord, preserve us in this, our greatest battle.” +

Resisting Caliban

“We must prepare to meet with Caliban.” – The Tempest

I’ve been married long enough to know that when my wife starts talking about “rearranging a few things” I had better go through the papers and books on my desk and on the floor surrounding my desk in order to save what needs saving before the rearranging nightmare commences. And of course the process takes longer than anticipated because I start to read the old articles and papers in order to decide what to discard and what to save.

This time through I noticed an old obituary of a favorite baseball player of mine from the golden era of baseball, the era of all white players. That obituary was much more important to me than the tons of articles I threw out about the Latin Mass and the crisis in the church. It might appear since I threw out the articles pertaining to the internecine wars in the Catholic Church and kept the obituary about a favorite baseball player (Walter Johnson) from the golden era, that I was no longer interested in Christianity but was still interested in the trivial pursuits of my childhood.

The old saw warns us that appearances can be deceiving. I kept the Walter Johnson obit because Mr. Johnson was a baseball hero from an era when the European people of America were at least, if not integrally Christian, then Christian in ethos. Such relics of the past must be treasured, because it is no longer possible in the modern, post-Christian-ethos era, to see even a trace of old Europe embodied in any European American or European institution.

The history of baseball in this country is a history in miniature of the white European people. Baseball has its roots in the agrarian tradition of Europe. The terms ‘infield’ and ‘outfield’ for instance are used by Sir Walter Scott in his descriptions of Scottish farming:

The residence of these church vassals was usually in a small village or hamlet, where, for the sake of mutual aid and protection, some thirty or forty families dwelt together. This was called the Town, and the land belonging to the various families by whom the Town was inhabited, was called the Township. They usually possessed the land in common, though in various proportions, according to their several grants. The part of the Township properly arable, and kept as such continually under the plough, was called in-field. Here the use of quantities of manure supplied in some degree the exhaustion of the soil, and the feuars raised tolerable oats and bear, [Footnote: or bigg, a kind of coarse barley] usually sowed on alternate ridges, on which the labour of the whole community was bestowed without distinction, the produce being divided after harvest, agreeably to their respective interests.

There was, besides, out-field land, from which it was thought possible to extract a crop now and then, after which it was abandoned to the "skiey influences," until the exhausted powers of vegetation were restored. These out-field spots were selected by any feuar at his own choice, amongst the sheep-walks and hills which were always annexed to the Township, to serve as pasturage to the community. The trouble of cultivating these patches of out-field, and the precarious chance that the crop would pay the labour, were considered as giving a right to any feuar, who chose to undertake the adventure, to the produce which might result from it.

The very concept of a professional baseball team is a bastardization of the sporting ideals of the European people, immortalized forever in Tom Brown’s Schooldays. In that work, Thomas Hughes enfleshes the Christian doctrine of the interconnectedness of body and soul. Sport, to a Christian of the old stock, is a spiritual exercise; how we conduct ourselves in sport and the type of sport we participate in can elevate or debase the soul.

The original professional baseball organizations, because they were created by people with a Christian hangover, mixed the Christian sporting ethos with a secular ethos. The Christian impulse was seen in the teams’ attempts to make heroism local and particular. Even though most players did not play for their home city, they were treated like native sons by the local baseball enthusiasts. But the serpent was in the baseball garden. A small little serpent called money was seen in the out-field.

Sport in America lost its remaining Christian ethos when baseball integrated in 1947. Though owners such as Branch Rickey and Bill Veeck, who brought the first Negroes into baseball, presented themselves as pioneers in the civil rights movement, they were in reality worshippers of the golden calf. It was simple economics. A bigger gene pool meant a better team, and a better team meant more money. The unsung heroes were the white players, such as Dixie Walker of the Dodgers, who said that it didn’t matter if you could win more games and make more money by integrating your team, it was wrong. The heroes of baseball were not the Jackie Robinsons and Branch Rickeys or the vast majority of white players who dared not place their financial futures in jeopardy by protesting integrated baseball. The real heroes were men like Dixie Walker who spoke out against the forces of money and Negro worship. In Cleveland, the small handful of white players who refused to shake hands with the Negro Larry Doby were traded off the team. (1) Such protestors were heroes of the blood. Their instincts allowed them to see the truth: the presence of the Negro within white culture is the beginning of the end of white culture.
One wonders what happened to all the old opponents of integration. The baseball players of the late 40’s are mostly gone by now. But what about the athletes from the mid-1960's? I remember reading about a Southern college football team in the early 1960’s. The white players on that team refused to play against teams that played Negroes. What happened to those men? Did they all ‘see the light’ and become Negro worshippers? Most likely they became part of the white underground. They grumble among themselves about the apelike negroization of their sport but dare not make any public criticism of integration.

The coalition that destroyed white baseball was the same type of coalition that destroyed the European people. A group of money men joined forces with Christians who needed a social gospel to buttress up their faltering faith in the Gospel.

The cynical money men were careful to present the negroization of baseball, and other aspects of white culture, in Christian terms. The pastor of my parents’ church, who regularly extolled the black man but had very little to say about Christ, was fond of saying that Branch Rickey was the greatest civil rights advocate of them all, ‘them all’ being liberals like the pastor, who ended up divorcing his first wife, second wife, third wife, and then the church.

There was an episode in the old Leave It To Beaver television show in which the moral eunuch, Eddie Haskell, during a camping trip falls off a cliff onto a ledge slightly below. A park ranger (played by the same actor who played Jack Armstrong, the All American Boy in the movie serial) has to come and rescue Eddie. When Eddie tries to mouth off to the park ranger, he is told, “Things like this don’t happen to boys who are careful in the woods.” Precisely. And things like the negroization of baseball don’t happen to a people unless they have taken little care to keep faith with their past. The capitalist, because he worships the golden calf, must break faith with his ancestors who worshipped Christ. But why did the Christians, the people I call the halfway-house Christians, break faith with their Christian ancestors? A traditional Christian people seeks to remain close to their past because by doing so, they are staying close to their God. A serious Christian does not jettison the customs and traditions of a Christian people in favor of the new customs and traditions of a Godless, utopian people, but confused halfway-house Christians do jettison the traditions of antique, Christian Europeans.

The European walls between the races were in place for good reasons, for Christian, European reasons. 1) God saves particular people and persons; He does not save en masse. It is His will that people retain their racial identities. 2) The second reason is like unto the first; if the Christ-bearing race becomes a non-race, will there be faith on earth?

The negroization of the world is a holistic movement. The liberals have left no part of the European world free from the presence of the Negro. And as Midas turned everything he touched to gold, so does the Negro turn every aspect of white culture into a savage, tribal, barbarous rite. Who is served by the interjection of the Negro into white culture? Is the white man served? Maybe the rich capitalist is served in a material sense, but is the real white man, the Christian, served by an integrated society? No, he is debauched and degraded. He losses his identity as a white European, and by that loss he becomes worse than a man without a country; he becomes a man without a soul.

Is the Negro served? Again, some are served in a material sense. But the black man is dependent on the white man to keep him from descending to the level of the apes (I mean that in a behavioral sense, not an evolutionary sense). The white man’s burden and duty is to control and civilize the black savage, as the pre-civil war, Southern whites did so admirably, and not to make him a deity in a Godless, golden-calf-worshipping society.

The whole purpose of a Christian culture is to create opportunities for white moments. Somewhere between our birth and death, we need to see the face of Christ, at the hearth, in pure sport, in our art, or in our work. The liberal wants to eliminate the white moments of existence. He demands that we give up the white moments of life, in which we get a glimpse of heaven, in order to live in a future heaven on earth that he, the liberal, is building for us. But it is always in the future, this heaven on earth, and it always entails the sacrifice of our faith in the God whose kingdom is not of this world. Negroization is the liberal’s road to earthly bliss, but the European of the old stock sees it for what it is – the road to hell. We shall never give up on the culture of white moments and we will never accept negroization. +

________________________
(1) Bill Veeck is lauded for bringing the second Negro into baseball a few months after the first one. What type of man are the liberals lauding? They are lauding a man who put money above every decent human sentiment. He once, when he was owner of the Chicago White Sox, brought a midget up to bat. His only worry was that the midget might attempt to gain some self-respect by actually swinging at the baseball and getting a hit. In order to put a halt to that, he told the midget that he had a man with a high-powered rifle ready to shoot him if he swung at the ball. The midget walked on four pitches, and Bill Veeck got what he wanted, celebrity and money. What of the midget? He suffered scorn and ridicule the rest of his life, which lasted ten years longer. He died from injuries resulting from a beating he received from men who still wanted to mock and ridicule him for his infamous at bat in the major leagues. Did the great civil rights champion, the great humanitarian, attend his funeral? No, he did not. The only man from major league baseball that attended the funeral was the pitcher who gave up the walk. “I felt I owed him that much.”

Now, Bill Veeck didn’t force the midget to prostitute himself for money. But a pimp is even more loathsome than a prostitute. Veeck and the liberals call negroization ‘civil rights.’ The correct term for it is pimping.

Cultural Atheists

“Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.” – Prov. 4:23

I once attended a small community Bible class. The unusual thing about the class was that all the members were believing Christians; they believed in Adam and Eve and the authenticity of the Old Testament, as well as in the ultimate truth of the New Testament. But the sad aspect of the class was that all the members were Christian-culture atheists. By that I mean that they saw no connection between Christianity and the Europe of the past, and they saw no connection between modern irreligion and the modern secular European culture. To them culture was permanently neutral. It was simply culture; it was just there, like the sun and the moon. To me however, every page of the Bible was reinforced by some verse or story from a European author. For instance, when Abraham wrestled with the problem of believing God’s promises when circumstances gave no indication that divine aid was coming –

And God said unto Abraham, As for Sarai they wife, thou shalt not call her name Sarai, but Sarah shall her name be. And I will bless her, and give thee a son also of her: yea, I will bless her, and she shall be a mother of nations; kings of people shall be of her. Then Abraham fell upon his face, and laughed, and said in his heart, Shall a child be born unto him that is a hundred years old? and shall Sarah, that is ninety years old, bear?

-- it reminded me of Tirian in The Last Battle:

He thought of other Kings who had lived and died in Narnia in old times and it seemed to him that none of them had ever been so unlucky as himself. He thought of his great-grandfather’s great-grandfather King Rilian who had been stolen away by a Witch when he was only a young prince and kept hidden for years in the dark caves beneath the land of the Northern Giants. But then it had all come right in the end, for two mysterious children had suddenly appeared from the land beyond the world’s end and had rescued him so that he came home to Narnia and had a long and prosperous reign. “It’s not like that with me,” said Tirian to himself. Then he went further back and thought about Rilian’s father, Caspian the Seafarer, whose wicked uncle King Miraz had tried to murder him and how Caspian fled away into the woods and lived among the Dwarfs. But that story too had all come right in the end: for Caspian also had been helped by children—only there were four of them that time—who came from somewhere beyond the world and fought a great battle and set him on his father’s throne. “But it was all long ago,” said Tirian to himself. “That sort of thing doesn’t happen now.” And then he remembered (for he had always been good at history when he was a boy) how those same four children who had helped Caspian had been in Narnia over a thousand years before; and it was then that they had done the most remarkable thing of all. For then they had defeated the terrible White Witch and ended the Hundred Years of Winter, and after that they had reigned (all four of them together) at Cair Paravel, till they were no longer children but great Kings and lovely Queens, and their reign had been the golden age of Narnia. And Aslan had come into that story a lot. He had come into all the other stories too, as
Tirian now remembered. “Aslan—and children from another world,” thought Tirian. “They have always come in when things were at their worst. Oh, if only they could now.”

And in the Bible, when the mysterious stranger, Melchizedek, of no known parentage, suddenly appears to help Abram:

And Melchizedek king of Salem brought forth bread and wine: and he was the priest of the most high God. Genesis 14: 18 .... Without father, without mother, without descent, having neither beginning of days, nor end of life; but made like unto the Son of God; abideth a priest continually. Hebrews 7: 3

I can see Melchizedek in Shane, a man of unknown parentage, who helps the Starrett family against the forces of evil:

He was the man who rode into our little valley out of the heart of the great glowing West and when his work was done rode back whence he had come and he was Shane.

I cannot read a single Shakespeare play without thinking of St. Paul. The two poets are of the same spirit:

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal... For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. – I Corinthians 13: 1, 12-13

Compare this to Portia’s speech in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice:

The quality of mercy is not strain’d.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown.
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
But mercy is above the sceptred sway;
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings;
It is an attribute to God himself;
And earthly power doth then show likest God’s
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea,
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.

-- The Merchant of Venice

Every author of note always points to Him as our only hope, like Dickens's Sydney Carton in The Tale of Two Cities:

She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before him—is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two.

“I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”

The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. Twenty-Three.

And from John 11: 25, 26:

And Jesus said unto her, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this?

The liberals are being satanically consistent; they should work for the destruction of the white man and his past. That past is the embodiment of Christianity, which they despise. But why is the remnant band of Christians so ready to abandon the European cultural heritage? Well, if you’ll forgive my coming back to the same theme, it’s because the remnant believers are in the Christian halfway house. They cling to the Bible or to a traditional interpretation of the church documents, but they don’t see the importance of maintaining their blood ties to a race of people who took the Bible and the church documents seriously enough to make them a part of their culture.

The words 'fire' and 'heart' appear in the Bible with great frequency, while the words 'rational' and 'mind' never or seldom appear. If we abandon the cultural element, we leave behind the human component of religion that gives us the fire and heart to respond to God’s grace. If God is with and in His people’s culture, then they come in contact with Him in every aspect of their lives. But if He exists only in the minds of the doctors of theology, He becomes a distant God, and then an absent God, and finally a non-existent God. We need to feel that God is truly present with us. As soon as Moses, who made God’s presence known to the Hebrews, left to go up to Mt. Sinai, the people immediately started worshipping the golden calf. They needed to feel that God was amongst them.

My heart goes out to believers like the men and women in the Bible class I attended. They are struggling to hold to the Christian faith at a time when all the powers of this world are arrayed against them. But I also feel like shaking the aforementioned Christians and telling them: “The reason there are only five of us meeting in the basement of the church is because we have abandoned the fire-and-heart Christianity that was so deeply ingrained in the Europeans’ culture.” An intellectual faith only is “as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal”; it is devoid of fire and heart.

A religious culture is not an optional ‘extra’; it is a necessity because divine faith must have a human dwelling. And a culture, if it is to be true one, must be passed on and maintained by a race of people. There cannot be a multi-racial culture; that is a contradiction in terms. The Tower of Babel was not a culture; it was the antithesis of culture.

The majority of liberals do not even claim to be Christians. But there is a significant minority of liberals, represented by such men as Billy Graham and the late John Paul II, who claim that multi-culturalism is the logical outcome of Christ’s teaching. “Are not all men brothers in Christ?” Yes, they are. Christ did not come to save only one race of people, but did He choose to save mankind by race-mixing? The entire canon of Scripture says the opposite. And when the Europeans were Christian, they opposed race-mixing. In order to support multi-culturalism, you must reject Scripture and claim that your European predecessors were not sufficiently Christian. This is precisely what the Christian liberals do.

Christ’s saving grace comes to individuals who have distinct identities within a race of people. The Civil War in this country and the on-going wars of immigration in the European countries were and are being fought over the Greek idea of God, that He is an abstraction who can only be known through the intellect, versus the Hebraic belief that knowledge of God comes to us through spirit and blood. The ongoing racial war is of eternal moment. If the European surrenders, he will lose his soul. If he refuses to surrender, if he keeps faith with his race and the God of his race, he will save his soul. +

The Young Drummer Returns

Many years ago a village stood in the hollow which is now filled up by the mere. But the inhabitants were a wicked race... they scorned to bend the knee, save in mockery, to the White Christ who had died to save their souls. – “Bomere Pool” from English Folk and Fairy Tales

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Interviewer: There is a moment in C. S. Lewis’s novel The Silver Chair in which the two children begin to doubt the existence of Narnia. Puddleglum, however, pulls them through:

“One word, Ma’am,” he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pail. "One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world.

If two modern children were to ask you if Christian Europe ever existed, what would you tell them?

Young Drummer: I would tell them a story – actually, I would tell them many stories – of a time when the European’s heart was a flame and he blended his blood and soul with Jesus Christ. I would not read to the children from a philosophical treatise; if I did that, I would be placing them in the hands of the Gnostics, because nothing delights the Gnostic more than to turn everything into philosophical speculation.

Many white moments from the European story-telling tradition – those moments of white heat which enable us to recognize our Lord in the faces of His creatures – parallel incidents from the Gospel. What could be more natural since Western Culture was formed by Christianity?

One of my favorite Gospel stories is the account of the redemption of the good thief. What a moment! “Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.” And the good thief didn’t win his salvation on the cheap, simply catching our Lord in one of those weak, sentimental moments that the Gnostics deplore. No, there had to have been something monumental going on in Dismas’s soul that enabled him to see that Christ was something more than mere man. Dismas had pity for Jesus the man, suffering on the cross unjustly, and he had faith in Jesus the Lord: “Remember me when you shall come into your kingdom.”

It is usually pity, compassion, or love for an individual human being that awakens the soul of a sinner and inspires him to heroic efforts and to a heroic faith in Him, who enjoined us to have pity, compassion, and love for our fellow human beings. The modern liberal, the Gnostic, by attempting to bypass humanity, never really knows the God who saved and pardoned Dismas. We are saved because our humanity reaches out to respond to Christ’s humanity. That human embrace allows us to touch the divine; without it, there can be no redemption.

_________________

Sidney Carton in A Tale of Two Cities finds redemption for a sinful wasted life by voluntarily taking the place of another man destined for the guillotine. On the way to the guillotine Carton also comforts a young woman, destined, like Carton, for Madame Guillotine.

"Do you think:" the uncomplaining eyes in which there is so much endurance, fill with tears, and the lips part a little more and tremble: "that it will seem long to me, while I wait for her in the better land where I trust both you and I will be mercifully sheltered?"

"It cannot be, my child; there is no Time there, and no trouble there."

"You comfort me so much! I am so ignorant. Am I to kiss you now? Is the moment come?"

"Yes."

She kisses his lips; he kisses hers; they solemnly bless each other. The spare hand does not tremble as he releases it; nothing worse than a sweet, bright constancy is in the patient face. She goes next before him--is gone; the knitting-women count Twenty-Two.

"I am the Resurrection and the Life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."

The murmuring of many voices, the upturning of many faces, the pressing on of many footsteps in the outskirts of the crowd, so that it swells forward in a mass, like one great heave of water, all flashes away. Twenty-Three.

_________________

Rake Windermere, in the poem of the same name, like Sidney Carton, also “steps out,” and finds redemption:

'RAKE' WINDERMERE

Disgrace he’d brought on an ancient name
A smirch on an honoured crest
He’d blotted the page of glorious fame
That his family once possessed
Eton he’d left beneath a cloud
And left in the greatest haste
He’d proceeded whilst there in revels loud
Life’s choicest hours to waste.

Sent down from Oxford next was he
The result of orgies wild
He’d filled the cup of vice with glee
And a noble stock defiled
A nickname he’d earned by his acts of shame
‘Mong comrades of many a bout
From the broken shell of his own true name
“Rake” Windermere stepped out.

As a fitting end to a family scene,
He had quitted the family home
With a tearless eye and a smile serene
He had started the world to roam
Still lower he’d sunk than ever before
And never a vice he’d shun
Till even his roystering friends of yore
Forsook him one by one.

He’d drifted at length with a tourist band
To the land of the war-like Moor
And there on the dreary desert sand
Had disaster attacked the tour
Approached by a tribe of bandit brand
The party had turned and fled
But first a shot, fired by some foolish hand
Had pierced a Moorish head.

Besieged for a week on a mound of stone
And with water getting low
The bandit chief appeared alone and said
“Thou art free to go.
If thou deliverest first up to me
Of thy number any one
So that True Believer’s blood may be
Avenged ere tomorrow’s sun.”

Each looked at each as he rode away
Grim silence reigned supreme
The sun went down, and the Moon held sway
Flooding all with silver stream
Then a muffled form crept down the mound
With a wistful glance about
Then with head erect, but without a sound
“Rake” Windermere stepped out.
by Leonard Pounds and Herbert Townsend

_________________

We must return to Charles Dickens for an incredible moment of redemption for two sinners. Pip’s “great expectations” have raised his material prospects in life but degraded his soul. He is deteriorating inwardly from overweening pride even as he learns more and more of the outward habits of a gentleman. It is only when he realizes that his great expectations come from the blood and sweat of Magwitch, an “exiled for life” convict, that he begins to understand that true gentlemanliness comes from within and works its way outward, not vice versa.

Magwitch, another sinner like the good thief, finds redemption through his love for Pip. And Pip finds redemption by overcoming his initial revulsion for Magwitch by pledging that:

‘I will never stir from your side,’ said I, ‘when I am suffered to be near you. Please God, I will be as true to you as you have been to me!’

And both sinners are permanently bound to each other in Christ when Pip commends the dying Magwitch’s soul to God:

Mindful, then, of what we had read together, I thought of the two men who went up into the Temple to pray, and I knew there were no better words that I could say beside his bed, than ‘O Lord, be merciful to him a sinner!’

Such white moments come only from a storytelling heritage steeped in the Gospel of Christ.

St. Paul tells us that the last enemy to be defeated is death. Even in Christian circles these days there is grave doubt that the “fell sergeant” will truly be defeated. But in the storytelling tradition of the West, a belief is firmly ingrained that at the last trump, in the twinkling of an eye, we shall be delivered from the clutches of death. The great fairy tales speak to this hope.

_________________

Two excellent fairy stories that end with glorious white moments of deliverance are The March of the Wooden Soldiers with Laurel and Hardy, and the 1954 “children’s” opera-musical of the Grimm’s fairy tale, Hansel and Gretel.

In The March of the Wooden Soldiers (a movie that defies classification, being part opera, part musical, part epic, and all fairy tale), the bogeymen, lead by the wicked Barnaby, are invading Toyland. The situation seems hopeless, but two inept toy makers, Laurel and Hardy, suddenly remember that because of their ineptness, 100 six-foot-tall toy soldiers are on hand. They quickly wind the soldiers up, and in a magnificent ending, the wooden soldiers drive the bogeymen into the sea.

Is this a prefiguration of the final fight between good and evil and Christ’s destruction of that last enemy called death? Yes! I also think it is entirely in keeping with divine metaphysics that two bumbling, but pure of heart, toy makers are used by God to combat evil. “What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light.”

In the 1954 production of Hansel and Gretel (adapted for the screen by Padraic Colum and composed by Engelbert Humperdinck) the father, who has been searching through the woods for his lost children, sums up the miracle of Hansel and Gretel’s triumph over the witch in his song:

And so you see that Heaven will bend
And to evil make an end
And when hope is nearly gone
God’s relief to us is surely won.

And when hope is nearly gone
God’s relief by us is won.

There is a spiritual virility represented by the words of Hansel and Gretel’s father that we have lost. And we won’t regain it by listening to the siren song of the Gnostics.

“Heaven will bend.” Everything is contained in that line. A belief that heaven will bend connotes a childlike faith in our blessed Lord. When we face our final hour we need to believe, like Hansel and Gretel’s father, that our Holy Savior will bend and make an end to that last great enemy.

Since I am a mortal man who fears death, and since I don’t possess any secret documents containing inside information about the afterlife, it is indeed a comfort to know that we need not know of hidden things on secret scrolls, we need only a childlike faith in Christ. Jesus, at the hour of my death and that of my loved ones, please bend.

_________________

Another theme that we see represented in the storytelling tradition of the West has its origins in the ‘Lord of the Sabbath’ incident in the Gospels. In it, the Pharisees rebuke Christ for disobeying the law and healing on the Sabbath.

And certain of the Pharisees said unto them, Why do ye that which is not lawful to do on the sabbath days?

And Jesus answering them said, Have ye not read so much as this, what David did, when himself was a hungered, and they which were with him;

How he went into the house of God, and did take and eat the shewbread, and gave also to them that were with him; which it is not lawful to eat but for the priests alone?

And he said unto then, That the Son of Man is Lord also of the sabbath.

(6 Luke: 2-5)

The Pharisees, like all formalists, were unimpressed.

There is an exquisite balance in all of Christ’s actions. He follows most of the older Jewish laws, even assuring his followers that He comes not to destroy the law but to fulfill it. But the laws are made for man, by God, out of love. They are His laws; He can abrogate or bend any one of them. In point of fact, when He does abrogate or bend a law, it is always out of charity. And it is our Lord Himself who tells us that charity is the essence of all true laws.

_________________

I have quoted from the story The King of the Golden River before and will continue to do so because it speaks so directly against the Gnostics, the Feeneyites, and all those who would deny that Christ is Lord even of the sabbath day.

The two cruel brothers in the story follow all of the rules; they even possess the holy water necessary to obtain the riches from the Golden River. And yet, they are turned to stone! On this earth the cruel brothers who follow the formula while violating the laws of charity usually win. But in the European fairy tales that prefigure the Kingdom of Heaven, they lose.

The King of the Golden River speaks in the language of the Gospels and St. Paul when he says, “...the water which has been refused to the cry of the weary and dying, is unholy, though it has been blessed by every saint in heaven; and the water which is found in the vessel of mercy is holy, though it had been defiled with corpses.”

God bless Gluck, the third “dumb” brother. May we all be filled with such holy dumbness.

And Gluck went out and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven from his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house of treasure. And, for him, the river had, according to the dwarf’s promise, become a River of Gold.

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In the 1954 movie Brigadoon, we also see the theme of God making a rule for the good of His people, and then bending that rule for the benefit of an individual, or (in this case) for two individual human beings.

The beautiful Scottish village of Brigadoon and its inhabitants have been preserved from corruption because of a special prayer request: Their village and its inhabitants come to life only one day in each century, thereby avoiding the special corruptions of any one century.

But what if a poor weary traveler from the 20th century happens upon the village during the one day it appears in the 20th century? And what if he falls in love with a Scottish lass from the village of Brigadoon and she with him?

Well, we know what a Gnostic would do. He would sneer at and condemn the very notion that romantic love can be a source of divine grace. But Christ, who blessed the married couple at Cana, does not disdain legitimate romantic love. When heaven bends at the foot bridge of Brigadoon, it is a glorious white moment.

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Scenes of genuine forgiveness always remind us of our Lord’s divine mercy and His very human compassion, thus striking a blow against the entire Gnostic tradition and the modern hate-filled destroyers of white Christian Europe. Where will mercy be found now that Christian Europe is gone? Only in the European mists.

Genuine forgiveness doesn’t mean liberal forgiveness: “I forgive you for murdering Charlie, whom I didn’t really care for anyway because he was overweight and politically incorrect.” Genuine European, Christian forgiveness consists of Cordelia’s forgiveness of her father, King Lear.

Cordelia: O, look upon me, sir,
And hold your hands in benediction o'er me.
No, sir, you must not kneel.

Lear: Pray, do not mock me.
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less;
And, to deal plainly,
I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Methinks I should know you, and know this man;
Yet I am doubtful; for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is; and all the skill I have
Remembers not these garments; nor I know not
Where I did lodge last night. Do not laugh at me;
For (as I am a man) I think this lady
To be my child Cordelia.

Cordelia: And so I am! I am!

Lear: Be your tears wet? Yes, faith. I pray weep not.
If you have poison for me, I will drink it.
I know you do not love me; for your sisters
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong.
You have some cause, they have not.

Cordelia: No cause, no cause.

And genuine forgiveness is also shown by Prospero in The Tempest. He renounces magic and pardons the deceiver – and prays to the God of mercy, who has taught us to render the deeds of mercy.

Now my charms are all overthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint. Now 'tis true
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardoned be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

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Shortly after the reconciliation scene between Prince Hal and his father Henry IV, there is another reconciliation scene between Prince Hal (now Henry V) and the Lord Chief Justice, which highlights the difference between the pagan and the Christian. The one knows noting of mercy and the other has it in his blood.

Having rebuked Prince Hal quite justly when he was a young, riotous youth, the Chief Justice now has reason to fear the new king’s wrath. But a Christian king, which Prince Hal is determined to be, knows the difference between the English and the Turkish courts. He knows he must not only forgive the Lord Chief Justice’s rebukes of his own youthful miscreant person, he must also commend his actions as befitting the Chief Justice of a Christian king:

KING. No?
How might a prince of my great hopes forget
So great indignities you laid upon me?
What, rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison,
Th' immediate heir of England! Was this easy?
May this be wash'd in Lethe and forgotten?

CHIEF JUSTICE. I then did use the person of your father;
The image of his power lay then in me;
And in th' administration of his law,
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth,
Your Highness pleased to forget my place,
The majesty and power of law and justice,
The image of the King whom I presented,
And struck me in my very seat of judgment;
Whereon, as an offender to your father,
I gave bold way to my authority
And did commit you. If the deed were ill,
Be you contented, wearing now the garland,
To have a son set your decrees at nought,
To pluck down justice from your awful bench,
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword
That guards the peace and safety of your person;
Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image,
And mock your workings in a second body.
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours;
Be now the father, and propose a son;
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd,
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted,
Behold yourself so by a son disdain'd;
And then imagine me taking your part
And, in your power, soft silencing your son.
After this cold considerance, sentence me;
And, as you are a king, speak in your state
What I have done that misbecame my place,
My person, or my liege's sovereignty.

KING. You are right, Justice, and you weigh this well;
...
And I will stoop and humble my intents
To your well-practis'd wise directions.

A king that can “stoop and humble” his intents to wise direction follows the way of the cross. He is Christlike in that he willingly chooses to hide the outward shows of majesty so that the inner majesty, the real majesty of kingship, will show itself the more brightly.

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Let me also point out to the children another white moment from the Chronicles of Narnia in the seventh book, The Last Battle. (Incidentally, it is in the realm of so-called children’s literature that the best writing in the 20th century has been done. When we try to write like adults, we write like rationalists, without hope or joy.)

The Narnian white moment occurs when Peter, Lucy, Edmund, and the whole Narnian cast are getting ready to embark on the ‘real’ journey. (Lewis has the metaphysical virility to hope for the giddiest of happy endings; it is more and more difficult to maintain such a hope, in the face of Gnostic modernity, but the men of the Christian West used to have it.)

“No fear of that,” said Aslan. “Have you not guessed?”

Their hearts leaped and a wild hope rose within them.

“There was a real railway accident,” said Aslan softly. “Your father and mother and all of you are—as you used to call it in the Shadow-Lands—dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.”

And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for every: in which every chapter is better than the one before.

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Are white moments from the Western tradition merely false shadows? Or are they prefigurations of the Kingdom of Heaven? Dear children, I believe they are not false shadows; they emanate from the depths of human hearts connected to His Heart.

They must be real. It is the Gnostic’s promise of salvation through the intellectual knowledge of God’s divinity alone, divorced from His humanity, that is an illusion.

That, or something like it, is what I would say to modern children who have never known Christian Europe.

Interviewer: Would it do any good? Aren’t the stories from Christian Europe as alien to modern children as hieroglyphics are to the non-Egyptian?

Young Drummer: Quite probably. But that’s the only approach I know. And maybe my approach will be just foolish enough to work.

Interviewer: “What your wisdoms could not discover, these shallow fools have brought to light?”

Young Drummer: Precisely, it takes a wise man to play the fool. The European people, the Christ-bearing Europeans, were foolish, from a worldly perspective, to carry the Christ child on their shoulders, but if those modern European children could just see a glimmer of what their ancestors saw, they would be on their way to the castle of the King of Fairyland, the Knight Errant of Heaven, who, in direct contrast to Midas, turns every heart He touches into a burning flame of charity. Those foolish Europeans who saw beauty on a cross were wiser than the geniuses of Liberaldom who have no honor, no faith, and no vision. We will not perish so long as their vision of His Europe remains our vision. +