Cambria Will Not Yield

Saturday, August 29, 2009

The God of Children

“There’s none can save you now, missy,” Mullins hissed jeeringly.
“There’s one,” replied the figure.
“Who’s that?”
“Peter Pan the avenger!” came the terrible answer; and as he spoke Peter flung off his cloak. Then they all knew who ‘twas that had been undoing them in the cabin, and twice Hook essayed to speak and twice he failed. In that frightful moment I think his fierce heart broke.


I saw the interview which mad-dog, liberal Rachel Maddow did with Frank Schaeffer, the son of the late Francis Schaeffer. Frank Schaeffer, formerly a fundamentalist, then a member of the Orthodox Church, and now a mad-dog liberal himself, condemned his father for equating abortionists with Hitler and asserted his support for The Obama and pro-choice mad-dogs of liberaldom. Despite his detestation of Christian values, Schaeffer still asserted his fervent belief in all the tenets of Christianity. Is it possible that a man could hold the views expressed by Frank Schaeffer and still be a Christian? No, it is not. We can say with absolute certainty that Frank Schaeffer is not a Christian. We can say that Frank Schaeffer has faith in an intellectual construct that he calls Christianity, but this is different from a faith in Christ.

P. C. Wren can help us understand the difference between faith in an intellectual construct and faith in a person. In his novel Beau Geste, the three Geste brothers all join the foreign legion to cover up what appears to be a theft by one of the brothers of the ‘Blue Water’ diamond from the family estate. At no time, despite compelling evidence to the contrary, do any of the brothers suspect the other brothers of any wrongdoing. They all think that either the other two brothers are guiltless of the theft or that the brother who took the Blue Water did so for noble reasons. And of course the brothers Geste are right. (1)

The Geste brothers have a faith that is deeper than an intellectual construct. Their faith is grounded in spirit and blood. When brothers are bound by those ties there is no need for a philosophy of brotherhood; the silken thread of sympathy is stronger than an ironclad syllogism.

The ancient Europeans knew Christ as the Geste brothers knew each other. Sin the European might, drift away from his brotherly father he might, but once having seen and felt the divine tenderness no European could fail to know His will and what He would have him do when facing life’s complexities. It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than it is for a man to know God through the abstracted intellect. Let us stop debating with the likes of Frank Schaeffer, Billy Graham, and all professed Christians who claim that satanic liberalism comes from Christ. Such “Christians” have a faith, but it is not a faith derived from a spirit and blood connection to Jesus of Nazareth.

It is important to know that professed Christians who support liberalism are not Christian, because liberals have one passion, the desire to eradicate Christian Europeans. When we see the Frank Schaeffers standing with liberals, we know that we must protect our people and our faith against him just as we would against a Stalin or a Hitler.

St. Paul tells us that even if an angel from heaven were to come down and tell us something in contradiction to the teaching of the men connected to Christ in spirit and blood, we are not to believe them. (Gal. 1:6 But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.) How can we call a pope like John XXIII, who forgave the barbarous torture and murder of his own people before the blood on the barbarians’ knives was dry, a Christian? How can we call Pope John Paul II, who regularly begged clemency for child-molesters and child-torturers, a Christian? And how can we call the black-worshipping pro-choice Frank Schaeffer a Christian?

Professed atheists such as Madeline Murray O'Hare are very rare, but intellectual atheists, those who worship their own abstraction of God, are legion. In fact, abstracted atheism is the religion of the modern European. And at the root of modern, abstracted atheism is intellectual pride. European man is suffering from the effect of a second fall. He is unable to accept that a true God would reveal His divinity through His humanity. Satan has once again appealed to man’s intellect (and the European Christian man was the only man Satan needed to worry about) in order to get the European to renounce Jesus of Nazareth. Satan got the European to believe that a human God was a lesser God.

A few years back I came across a book, written by one of Satan’s legion, which expressed in a nutshell modern man’s quest for an intellectual system as a substitute for God. The book was called Denial of the Soul and the author was M. Scott Peck. I read some reviews of the book, and I wondered if the reviewers and I had read the same book. The Publishers Weekly reviewer claimed Peck “camps firmly on Biblical grounds.” What Bible? It is true that Peck came out quite tentatively against euthanasia and in favor of the soul, but he concedes that he might change his views on euthanasia should he get a terminal, painful illness. And his belief in the soul is a type of Jungian belief in the over-soul. He refers to God as a “She” and rates traditionally religious people as lower on the evolutionary scale than liberal humanists. Peck, of course, places his own beliefs (a pastiche of Greek pantheism mixed with psychological Zen) at the top of the evolutionary ladder.

Pecks’s four stages of religious or spiritual development are these:
· Stage 1 - Chaotic, Antisocial. In this most primitive stage, people may appear either religious or secular, but either way, their belief system is profoundly superficial. It may be thought of as a stage of lawlessness.
· Stage 2 - Formal, Institutional. This is a stage of the ‘letter of the law’ in which religious fundamentalists (meaning most religious people) are to be found.
· Stage 3 – Skeptic, Individual. Here is where the majority of secularists are situated. People in this stage are usually scientific-minded, rational, moral, and humane. Their outlook is predominantly materialistic. They tend to be not only skeptical of the spiritual but uninterested in anything that cannot be proven.
· Stage 4 – Mystical, Communal. In this most mature stage of religious evelopment, which may be thought of as one of ‘the spirit of the law’, women and men are rational but do not make a fetish of rationalism. They have begun to doubt their own doubts. They feel deeply connected to an unseen order of things, although they cannot fully define it. They are comfortable with the mystery of the sacred.
Although Peck does use terms like ‘soul’ and ‘God’, he is, in Christian terms, an atheist. To quote:
“Although I consider myself a middle-of-the-road Christian, I do not believe in the doctrine of the resurrection of the body. It seems to me to confuse bodies and souls. They are not the same thing at all.”
There are some practical points in the book – for example, how to cope with illness and what painkilling drugs to use – that seem sound, but the underlying philosophy of this book is blasphemous and philosophically unsound. There is no real comfort in the face of our own sufferings and death outside of the traditional Christian faith, which Dr. Peck derides in the name of his new Dr. M. Scott Peck religion.

And outside of Christianity, there is no reason to be against euthanasia. In fact, if one believed what Peck believed, I would think one would be so depressed one would commit suicide.

If you are impressed by Karl Jung and Ralph Waldo Emerson – two men who tried to maintain Christian ethics while denying the transcendental truths of the Christian faith – you will be in tune with Dr. M. Scott Peck’s new interpretation of Christianity. But there is nothing really new under the sun, as the Preacher says. Mr. Peck’s beliefs are very close to those of the ancient Gnostics. The modern liberal thinks he is forging a brave new world, when in reality he is just a pygmy heretic spouting the cosmic blasphemies of his heretic progenitors.

It is always to a cosmic, impersonal force or an abstract, cosmic Christ that the liberal appeals. And this is why the New Age Christians are always allied with the barbarians of color. The barbarians also reject the God-Man and worship the impersonal gods of nature and the cosmos. The liberals frequently talk about compassion, but the most striking thing about their new world is the absence of compassion. We see this in the wholesale slaughter of the weakest members of the brave new world, the very young and the very old. Is this not the old paganism in a new, technocratic guise? Shall there be mercy for the destroyers of mercy? That will be up to the God of Mercy.

Leaving the ultimate disposition of souls to God we can and must make a judgment on the words and actions of the anti-Christian Christians like Frank Schaeffer. He has chosen to fly under Satan’s banner, and he should be dealt with as Peter Pan dealt with Captain Hook: “Hook or me this time!”

I vividly recall a time in my earlier twenties when I was chided by a professor for having a ‘Peter Pan complex’ because I refused to ‘grow up’ and adopt a ‘realistic, grown-up religion’ instead of the religion of Christ. My inarticulate answer was that if I had to abandon Christ in order to grow up, I preferred to remain a child. But then every European I admire, Shakespeare, Scott, Le Fanu, had the faith of a child. I’ll stay with them and their God, come dungeon, fire, and sword.+
My most dear and admired Aunt Patricia,

When you get this, I shall be dead, and when you have read it I shall be forgiven, I hope, for I did what I thought was best, and what would, in a small measure, repay you for some of your great goodness to me and my brothers.

My dear Aunt, I knew you had sold the ‘Blue Water’ to the Maharajah (for the benefit of the tenants and the estate), and I knew you must dread the return of Sir Hector, and his discovery of the fact, sooner or later.
I was inside one of the suits of armour when you handed the ‘Blue Water’ over to the vizier or agent of the Maharajah. I heard everything, and when once you had said what you said and I had heard it—it was pointless for me to confess that I knew—but when I found that you had a duplicate made, I thought what a splendid thing it would be if only we had a burglary and the ‘blue Water’ substitute were stolen! The thieves would be nicely done in the eye, and your sale of the stone would never be discovered by Sir Hector.

Had I known how to get into the Priests’ Hole and open the safe, I would have burgled it for you.

Then Sir Hector’s letter came, announcing his return, and I knew that things were desperate and the matter urgent. So I spirited away that clever piece of glass or quartz or whatever it is, and I herewith return it (with apologies). I nearly put it back after all, the same night, but I’m glad I didn’t (Tell John this.)

Now I do beg and pray you to let Sir Hector go on thinking that I am a common thief and stole the ‘Blue Water’ –or all this bother that everybody has had will be all for nothing, and I shall have failed to shield you from trouble and annoyance.

If it is not impertinent, may I say that I think you were absolutely right to sell it, and that the value is a jolly sight better applied to the health and happiness of the tenants and villagers and to the productiveness of the arms, than locked up in a safe in a the form of a shinning stone that is of no earthly benefit to anyone.

It nearly made me regret what I had done, when those asses, Digby and John, had the cheek to bolt too. Honestly, it never occurred to me that they would do anything so silly. But I suppose it is selfish of me to want all the blame and all the fun and pleasure of doing a little job for you.

I do so hope that all has gone well and turned out as I planned. I bet Uncle Hector was sick!

Well, my dear Aunt, I can only pray that I have helped you a little.

With sincerest gratitude for all you have done for us,

Your loving and admiring nephew,

‘Beau’ Geste

“A beau geste, indeed,” said Aunt Patricia, and for the only time in my life, I saw her put a handkerchief to her eyes.

Labels: ,

Friday, August 21, 2009

The End of Liberaldom

'Tis a consummation,
Devoutly to be wished.

The conservative-liberals do not like the mad-dog liberals’ health care plan. “It is socialism, pure and simple,” they say. And of course the conservative liberal critique of the Obama healthcare plan, to the extent that such a mish-mash can be called a plan, is quite justified. However, the mad-dog liberal healthcare plan is just one aspect of liberalism. The conservative-liberals might manage to stop passage of the plan, but they will not stop the liberal locomotive from hurtling forward at breakneck speed toward Suicide Pass. The conservative liberals won’t stop the locomotive because they don’t want to stop it; they simply want to replace the mad-dog liberal engineers of the democratic locomotive with engineers of their own choosing. But whether conservative-liberal engineers or mad-dog liberal engineers drive the locomotive is of little consequence. The train needs more than a change in engineers; it needs to be derailed.

At the core of every culture is a faith that sustains that culture. And it appears that every culture has a tipping point. When enough people cease to believe in the sustaining faith of their culture, that culture ceases to exist. The sustaining faith of Europeans prior to the 20th century was Christianity; the sustaining faith of the European people since the early 20th century is science. And liberal democracy is an essential part of the new faith. Monarchy, clans, blood ties, feudal oaths all seem so unscientific, so unclean to modern, scientific man. Democracy seems so much more up-to-date and independent. A man who no longer bends his knee to God certainly has no need to bend his knee to a king or a clan leader. “So, let’s all be democratic and king of ourselves.”

The synthesis of science and democracy has a name; it’s called liberalism. And Rush Limbaugh and Hillary Clinton are both enamored of it. Their quarrels are internecine quarrels. I want to see white Europeans start to attack both the Rush Limbaugh and the Hillary Clinton camp of liberals. An attack on just one group is not an attack on liberaldom, which was, is, and always shall be, the object of a Christian European’s wrath.

Let’s look at a case study. Meet the average white Joe. Joe didn’t like it when Obama and company labeled all the healthcare protestors (he was one) as “angry, racist, white people.” “I’m not racist,” Joe said with tears in his eyes; “I just don’t agree with the new healthcare plan.” Indeed, Joe is not racist; he has a picture of Jackie Robinson in his den, and he regularly watches and supports all the local sport teams with colored athletes on them. But Joe’s protests will not avail him. He would have more luck standing “upon the beach and bid the main flood bate his usual height” than he would have in convincing the liberal he is not evil because he is white. Joe, because he has not repudiated liberalism, remains confused about liberalism. He thinks he can appeal to the liberal's humanity, his sense of fair play. But humanity and fair play come from Christianity. The liberal is committed to a hatred of Christianity. And who were the people who placed Christianity at the core of their culture, the very culture that they, the liberals, have supplanted? White people, of course. The liberal must denounce and disenfranchise white people; such a denouncement and disenfranchisement is the essence of applied liberalism.

Still Joe is confused. “Why,” Joe asks, “are liberals against white people? Are they not white themselves?” Ah, that’s a good question. The answer to it can be found in Alice in Wonderland. Humpty Dumpty tells Alice that, “When I use a word, it means anything I want it to mean.” When philosophical speculation about Christianity prevailed in the Christian churches over revealed heart-and-blood Christianity, the road was made clear for the unreality of abstracted thought. Race is just an abstraction to the liberal, a “social construct.” When they want to demonize someone for having white skin, they make skin color a reality. When they contemplate their own adored faces in the mirror, skin color doesn’t exist; they are just ‘human beings,’ albeit marvelous human beings. The wheel turns again when the liberal needs to ‘help’ a poor darkie so that the darkie can worship the liberal. Then skin color comes alive again. Reality depends on the abstracted whim of the liberal. In Joe’s case, his skin color will always be a concrete evil so long as he voices any objections to one single part of the liberal’s vision of utopia.

Because the conservative-liberal has the same core faith as the mad-dog liberal, he will never get off nor seek to derail the democratic locomotive. He will continue to accept (in contrast to white, Christian Europeans) an aborting, black-worshipping, pornographic society, because he places adherence to scientific democracy as a value above all other values; it is his faith.

There are two groups of people who do not believe in scientific democracy or, to use its more common name, liberalism. The first group of non-believers is the barbarians of color. They adhere to liberalism in the countries where they are not strong enough to oppose it, but when they are in power they do not set up little wine-and-cheese party states. Missionary stew is more to their liking. Only liberals who live in an abstracted la-la land could work so hard for the enfranchisement of a people with values opposed to their own. Will the barbarians respect homosexual rights, women’s rights, or the right of white liberals to sit in upper-class suburbia and contemplate their fat navels? No, I don’t think so. But the white liberal will continue to support the colored barbarian right up to the moment that the barbarian cuts the white liberal’s throat, because the black barbarian hates the same God that the liberals hate, the white Christ.

The second group opposed to the liberals is of course the throne-and-altar-and-blood Europeans. I always call such men a ‘group’ with caution; I’m not sure there are enough of them to even call them a group. I know, from reading old novels and old history books, that there used to be millions of throne-and-altar-and-blood Europeans. But now? I don’t know. Most of the world seems to be either engulfed in the black night of barbarism or the even darker night of liberaldom. The barbarian is back where he started from before the light of Christ’s love entered the world, and the white liberal is worse than ere he was, because having rejected the light to which his blood ancestors swore fealty, he stands to reap the satanic whirlwind that comes with a rejection of Christ.

It’s difficult to fathom why the liberals hate Christian Europe and love liberaldom. I know my feelings about liberaldom are at one with the English Women. One of the women, with whom I completely identified, told of watching an old movie with some friends. During the movie she felt quite at home and comfortable. But when the movie ended and a commercial came on, she felt like she was in an alien world. I don’t think Christian Europe will ever, like Arthur, return, until Europeans feel that liberal, scientific democracy and barbarism are unwanted, alien entities that must be conquered.

In many countries where coal was once king, there are underground fires that, once started, were never put out. They just keep burning and spreading underground, making the regions above them uninhabitable. Liberalism started out as a small underground fire and has spread across the earth. It seems like a hopeless task to put such a fire out. And it is hopeless if the European of the old stock tries to do it all at once or if he tries to counter liberalism with just another hybrid form of liberalism, like countering Russian communism with American democracy. Which is more soul-killing and dangerous? Both. It always comes back to “who moved the stone?” If Christ moved the stone, as the white Europeans once believed, then nothing is impossible for Europeans who are wedded to Christ. Every faithful European heart will become a fire that will eventually, when united with other fiery hearts, engulf and destroy the satanic fires of liberaldom. But there must be that fire in the European heart.

When Pistol, Falstaff’s fellow, low-life companion thinks all of England will be his plaything because Prince Hal has become Henry V, he dreams of “Africa and golden joys.” We have seen what the liberals dream of. The embodiment of their dreams can be seen throughout Europe and the United States. Is such a nightmare world to be tolerated? Is liberalism the final act in the drama of European man? That vision thing, which George Bush Sr. despised, must be brought into play. In his mind’s eye, the European sees a small child being born in Bethlehem, and he sees that child grow up and become The Hero who slays the greatest dragon of them all, the great dragon, Death.

There is a cottage in the European woods. In that cottage is a European fire tended by a faithful woodsman. Many years ago, the woodsman’s Master told him to keep the fire burning until He returned. The woodsman was a young man then, and now he is an old man, yet still he keeps the fire going. All true Europeans have a fire to tend until the Master returns. Such fires are the hope of Europe and the scourge of liberaldom.

Labels: ,

Saturday, August 15, 2009

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


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?"


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:

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.

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.


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.

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:
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.


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.

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. +

Labels: , ,

In Loving Tribute to Sir Walter Scott on His Birthday, August 15th, 1771

He was Christian Europe’s greatest spokesman. A man incapable of lying, of meanness, or anything that was less than Christian. He took the chivalric code of the medieval ages, lying in disuse in the dustbin of history, and revived it for a whole generation of Europeans. But Scott’s chivalry was much deeper than the chivalry of the medieval knights and squires. Scott was a proponent of a chivalry of the heart that belongs to all Europeans who see Christ in the European mists. Braver than the bravest, the truest, most valiant heart in Christendom: that was and is Sir Walter Scott.
Hymn for the Dead

The day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner’s stay?
How shall he meet that dreadful day?

When, shriveling like a parched scroll,
The flaming heavens together roll;
When louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead,

Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay
Be THOU the trembling sinner’s stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away.

Hush’d is the harp—the Minstrel gone,
And did he wander forth alone?
Alone, in indigence and age,
To linger out his pilgrimage?
No; close beneath proud Newark’s tower,
Arose the Minstrel’s lowly bower;
A simple hut; but there was seen
The little garden hedged with green,
The cheerful hearth, and lattice clean.
There shelter’d wanderers, by the blaze,
Oft heard the tale of other days;
For much he loved to ope his door,
And give the aid he begg’d before.
So pass’d the winter’s day; but still,
When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill,
And July’s eve, with balmy breath,
Waved the blue-bells on Newark heath;
When throstles sung in Hareheadshaw,
And corn was green on Carterhaugh,
And flourish’d, broad, Blackandro’s oak,
The aged Harper’s soul awoke!
Then would he sing achievements high,
And circumstance of chivalry.
Till the rapt traveler would stay,
Forgetful of the closing day;
And noble youths, the strain to hear,
Forsook the hunting of the deer;
And Yarrow, as he roll’d along,
Bore burden to the Minstrel’s song.

-- from The Lay of the Last Minstrel


Sunday, August 09, 2009

Facing the enemy

In the morning after he had said his prayers, he sat himself down to his work; when, to his great wonder, there stood the shoes all ready made, upon the table.

If you recall the old fairy tale of the shoemaker and the elves, you know that the shoemaker was not incompetent, dishonest, or lazy. He was a good man and a hard worker, but in this world goodness and hard work do not always result in financial success. This is why the elves stepped in from that other world and aided the shoemaker. The shoemaker felt he had done nothing to warrant the aid of the elves, but of course he had done something. Simply by being the good and true shoemaker, he placed himself in a position to be the recipient of divine aid. And therein lies the problem with the modern world: there are no more cobblers or cobbler’s shops; our shoes are made in factories by anonymous workers, who are legion. How can we be the recipients of divine aid if we have not ordered our lives in accord with His will, or – to put it another way – we cannot live in a soul-dead, Wal-Mart world and expect to hear the sound of that great ‘amen.’ List all the sins of the old Europeans, and they will be more numerous than the sands of the desert. However, having listed the sins of the older Europeans, let it then be said that they, and they alone, were the good cobblers who, through their labor of love, elicited a divine blessing from the God of love.

Against the world of the good shoemakers is the world of the liberals. Lincoln spoke for all the liberals throughout the world in his Gettysburg address. Could a world conceived by Satan and dedicated to the eradication of Christianity long endure? Yes, it has long endured. Much too long. It has endured because the liberals have invoked Satan as their guardian angel. And in saying that they have called on Satan, I do not mean to suggest that liberals en masse have formally called on Satan in satanic rites. But they have, in their hearts, rejected the ancient faith of the Europeans who believed that Christ, the Son of God, was at war with Satan, the fallen angel who prowls about the world seeking the ruin of souls.

The liberals’ rejection of the belief that human beings are in essence spiritual beings, not materials beings, does not change reality. This world and its inhabitants are animated by the spirit. If you reject Christ as true God and true Man, you will belong to Satan and adhere to satanic principles whether you believe in Satan or not. Satan, unlike Christ, does not want to be loved by mankind; he merely wants mankind to serve him in his war against God. Since man is a spiritual creature, if he is not animated by Christ the vacuum in his soul will be filled by Satan. In a very real sense the liberals are possessed; they are the devils of which Dostoevsky wrote.

The satanically inspired, liberal devils have used a favorite trick of the devil in order to build liberaldom over the grave of Christendom:
But ‘tis strange;
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s
In deepest consequence.
Every single satanic edifice of liberaldom begins as an honest trifle and then turns into a stone pillar of Satanism to stand in complete contrast to every principle of Christendom. Halfway-house Christians tell us that race-mixing, feminism, and equalitarian democracy all stem from the Christian belief that all men are created by God. But does that mean we should make no distinctions between barbarism and Christianity, worship black men, allow women to kill their babies, and “divert, crack, rend and deracinate” every ancient tradition of the Christian European? Of course it doesn’t. And no Christian European with any blood left in him would be deceived by Satan’s honest trifles no matter how well they were disguised. There’s the rub: when the European exchanged his blood faith for a philosophical system, he lost the ability to recognize the difference between Satan’s clever trifles and the real things of consequence that flow from a heartfelt faith in the God-Man.

The vast majority of white Europeans have gone over, body and soul, to Satan’s kingdom on earth. They belong to liberaldom and will never leave it. What is left is only a small minority, perhaps too small to be called even a minority, of blood, throne and altar Europeans who oppose the liberals. But there is a sizable minority of white Europeans who are neither fish nor fowl. They want the benefits that come from a Christ-centered culture, but they also want to be stroked, petted, and financially rewarded by the powers that be. The halfway-house Christian who deplores legalized abortion but eschews any opposition to abortion that is violent or undemocratic belongs in the no-man’s land between liberaldom and Christendom, and likewise, the Bob Jones University Christians, who want the freedom to preach the parts of the Gospel they like but are willing to tolerate race-mixing in order to appease the liberals. I personally have never known a halfway-house Christian who has joined the ranks of the ancient Europeans, but I have known many who have joined the liberals.

The European who still clings to the blood faith of his ancestors seems doomed to a very lonely existence, but is the last European really as lonely as the liberal and the halfway-house Christian? Granted, the European is lonelier as regards the day-to-day comforts which the liberals and halfway-house Christians enjoy. There are no social gatherings at which the European can talk freely. There are no organizations clamoring for his input, but man is a creature of the depths whether the liberals and the halfway-house Christians acknowledge it or not. The liberal stares at the ocean and declares all that exists is on the surface. The halfway-house Christian says there are some interesting sea creatures to be found some two feet below the surface. But it is only the European who knows that the ocean’s greatest mysteries are in its depths, the depths which the liberal says do not exist and the halfway-house Christian claims to know all about, even though he has never gone more than two feet below the surface.

Lonely? Yes, the European is lonely in those moments when, surrounded by liberals who deny the existence of a spiritual dimension to life and by halfway-house Christians devoid of vision, he wonders if there are no depths to life. Then he remembers: he has plunged the depths; below the surface of life there is someone who comforts the sick at heart and eases the pain of loneliness. The liberal who has sought comfort from the devil, and the halfway-house Christian who seeks comfort from the liberal will ultimately be betrayed in deepest consequence.

We are back with the old shoemaker. The miracle of the shoes occurred because the shoemaker didn’t regard the appearance of the shoes as something extraordinary. Hadn’t the God he believed in sent His only Son to die on the cross, in the ultimate act of charity? Why should a lesser act of charity surprise the shoemaker who believed in the greatest of all acts of charity?

The shoemaker, because he lived in Christian Europe, viewed the spiritual dimension of life as a concrete, tangible realty, just as we, in the post-Christian era, view the existence of the North American continent as a concrete, tangible reality. The shoemaker’s Europe was constructed to let the light of His world illuminate the spiritual dimensions of this world. The veil of the material world was pulled aside and the European saw his beginning and his end.

In contrast, liberaldom was built to shut out the light. With a satanic, maniacal consistency, every aspect of the older European culture has been deracinated and condemned. How is it possible for a European to believe that he can come to some amicable working arrangement with the rulers of liberaldom? “You can stay godless and liberal, but please refrain from abortion.” “You may worship the black man, but don’t force us to integrate.” Liberals will never compromise on one single point of their satanic agenda, and they will never allow one single Christian European to be left unmolested and unregulated in their satanic kingdom.

One thing is crystal clear. Liberaldom was built and is sustained by Satan. And Satan will never be defeated by any force that comes from within the system which he, Satan, created. “Conservative” think tanks and “grass roots” movements are all part of Satan’s kingdom. He not only permits but encourages everyone to participate in the democratic process, because there is nothing within that closed system that does not ultimately serve the needs of Satan.

It seems like the last post for those of us who side with the shoemakers of old Europe. But it isn’t the last post if we step outside liberaldom and attack the liberals right in the middle of their premature victory parties. “Among them but not of them.” From a strictly materialist standpoint, we can’t be in liberaldom and launch an attack from outside of liberaldom, but spiritually we do stand outside of liberaldom. And the spirit above the dust He revealed to us is the only reality. From that metaphysically solid ground we can and will launch our attack. Every war the European has ever fought was just a minor skirmish compared to the coming battle with liberaldom. Hell is indeed empty and all the devils are here to fight against the last Europeans. Sword, gun, or pen; each man will use the weapon he was born to use. The readiness is all: the Europeans still connected to the shoemaker’s Europe are ready to turn and face the enemy.

Labels: ,

Eve's Unequal Children

by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm

When Adam and Eve were driven from paradise, they were forced to build a house for themselves on barren ground, and eat their bread by the sweat of their brow. Adam hoed the field, and Eve spun the wool. Every year Eve brought a child into the world, but the children were unlike each other. Some were good looking, and some ugly.

After a considerable time had gone by, God sent an angel to them to announce that He himself was coming to inspect their household. Eve, delighted that the Lord should be so gracious, cleaned her house diligently, decorated it with flowers, and spread rushes on the floor. Then she brought in her children, but only the good-looking ones. She washed and bathed them, combed their hair, put freshly laundered shirts on them, and cautioned them to be polite and well-behaved in the presence of the Lord. They were to bow down before Him courteously, offer to shake hands, and to answer His questions modestly and intelligently.

The ugly children, however, were not to let themselves be seen. She hid one of them beneath the hay, another in the attic, the third in the straw, the fourth in the stove, the fifth in the cellar, the sixth under a tub, the seventh beneath the wine barrel, the eighth under an old pelt, the ninth and tenth beneath the cloth from which she made their clothes, and the eleventh and twelfth under the leather from which she cut their shoes.

She had just finished when someone knocked at the front door. Adam looked through a crack, and saw that it was the Lord. He opened the door reverently, and the Heavenly Father entered. There stood the good-looking children all in a row. They bowed before Him, offered to shake hands, and knelt down.

The Lord began to bless them. He laid his hands on the first, saying, "You shall be a powerful king," did the same thing to the second, saying, "You a prince," to the third, "You a count," to the fourth, "You a knight," to the fifth, "You a nobleman," to the sixth, "You a burgher," to the seventh, "You a merchant," to the eighth, "You a scholar." Thus He bestowed his richest blessings upon them all.

When Eve saw that the Lord was so mild and gracious, she thought, "I will bring forth my ugly children as well. Perhaps He will bestow his blessings on them too." So she ran and fetched them from the hay, the straw, the stove, and wherever else they were hidden away. In they came, the whole coarse, dirty, scabby, sooty lot of them.

The Lord smiled, looked at them all, and said, "I will bless these as well."

He laid his hands on the first and said to him, "You shall be a peasant," to the second, "You a fisherman," to the third, "You a smith," to the fourth, "You a tanner," to the fifth, "You a weaver," to the sixth, "You a shoemaker," to the seventh, "You a tailor," to the eighth, "You a potter," to the ninth, "You a teamster," to the tenth, "You a sailor," to the eleventh, "You a messenger," to the twelfth, "You a household servant, all the days of your life."

When Eve had heard all this she said, "Lord, how unequally you divide your blessings. All of them are my children, whom I have brought into the world. You should favor them all equally."
But God replied, "Eve, you do not understand. It is right and necessary that the entire world should be served by your children. If they were all princes and lords, who would plant grain, thresh it, grind and bake it? Who would forge iron, weave cloth, build houses, plant crops, dig ditches, and cut out and sew clothing? Each shall stay in his own place, so that one shall support the other, and all shall be fed like the parts of a body."

Then Eve answered, "Oh, Lord, forgive me, I spoke too quickly to you. Let your divine will be done with my children as well."


Sunday, August 02, 2009

Democratic Bloodbaths

Then fell on Merlin a great melancholy;
He walk’d with dreams and darkness, and he found
A doom that ever poised itself to fall,
An ever-moaning battle in the mist,
World-war of dying flesh against the life,
Death in all life and lying in all love,
The meanest having power upon the highest,
And the high purpose broken by the worm.

I believe it was Metternich who said, “Whenever I hear the word, democracy, I know a bloodbath is coming.” The truth of Metternich’s words was brought home to me while reading The Last Days of Innocence by Meirion and Susie Harries. The book is about World War I, the war we fought to make the world “safe for democracy.”

It is the authors’ contention that World War I is largely ignored by most Americans because we have blocked out an unpleasant memory. We lost our innocence in that war, and no one likes to think about such a loss. What emerges from the book is a portrait of a nation that desperately wanted to stay out of World War I. Indeed, Wilson, the pacifist, won reelection because “he kept us out of war.” But, as the Harries tell it, the money men wanted the war, and they usually get what they want.

Once America was in the war, the German people had to be demonized. It is an article of the Puritan creed that a righteous nation doesn’t go to war except in a righteous cause. Wilson’s P.R. people did a splendid job in demonizing Germany. The Harries even suggest that Prohibition was passed to punish German beer makers and to stop German-Americans from meeting in beer halls. But the anti-German propaganda back-fired on Wilson. When the war ended and Wilson tried to get American support for his “peace without victory” plan, the American people were in no mood to forgive the baby-eating Huns. Nor were the French and English in any mood to forgive. The Germans were forced to accept complete blame for the war. An Austrian corporal was later able to set Europe on fire by harnessing German rage at the “stab in the back” treaty.

When reading of the battles, I was reminded of All Quiet on the Western Front. It is indeed a sad paradox that the democratization of Europe, which made every man his own king and killed the idea of a limited war between knights, brought about a democratic blood-bath to make the world safe for democracy. Chivalry suffered a severe blow in our own Civil War, and it received its death blow in World War I.

At the book’s end, Wilson dies a broken man, feminism rears its ugly head (women who took men’s jobs during the war did not give them up at the war’s end), and returning veterans tried to tell American citizens about “the horror, the horror,” but no one wanted to listen to them. So America be-bopped into the twenties, as the money men who brought about the war were preparing the way for the Great Depression.

To the Harries’ credit, they end their book on a sad note:

Saddest of all, perhaps, was the fate of Major Charles Whittlesey. The agony of his ‘Lost Battalion’ stayed with him; he was decorated for his astonishing bravery and endurance, but the burden of suffering he had imposed on his men was too much for him to bear. In 1926, eight years after leading the pathetic remnants of his unit out of their death-trap in the Argonne Forest, he put his affairs in order and boarded a boat for Cuba; in mid-ocean he disappeared from the vessel – one more victim of this most terrible of wars.
And one more victim, I might add, of the democratization of Europe and the death of Christendom. But let me come back to the link between the American Civil War and World War I. Both wars were fought in defense of egalitarian democracy, and in both wars white European males were killed in larger percentages and numbers than in any previous war between Europeans. Did this end the European American’s and the European’s love affair with egalitarian democracy? No, it did not. The carnage of those two wars, fought in the name of democracy, only intensified the Europeans’ love for democracy. Why? Because having lost his faith in Christianity, the European had to cling to his new-found faith no matter what the cost in human lives. “Better that millions perish than I should give up my faith in egalitarian democracy,” became the implicit credo of the post-Christian European.

It was inevitable that the black man would become the god of the democracy-loving Europeans, because the satanic logic of the democratic heresy says that if a black man can attain equality with the European, the new faith works. We can all dance around the bonfire of Western culture and sing praises to the new faith. The Obama coronation in this country was a religious ceremony in which liberals throughout America and Europe saw their god in the flesh.

Of course, it could have been any black man who was crowned, because the liberals’ faith celebrates the generic over the individual. Remember when Pope Benedict XVI, then Cardinal Ratzinger, said that the next pope should be a black man? He did not mention a particular black man, he just wanted a black man, any black man.

Egalitarian democracy, like communism, is an impossibility. A hierarchal structure exists in every society, even if that society denies its existence. And post-Christian Europeans have retained the elements of a Christian society in a bastardized, demonic form. For instance, original sin still exists, but it resides only in white males. And their original sin was that they did not admit blacks into full equality with whites. Hence, it is necessary that white males perform their mea culpas on a daily basis and take their punishment in a humble and contrite manner. Likewise, the liberals still believe in saints. However, sainthood does not come as a result of an individual person cooperating with God’s grace; sainthood is conferred on every member of the black race and by proxy to those members of the white race who support the sainted black race.

The halfway-house Christians tell us that egalitarian, black-worshipping democracy stems from the Christian belief that all men are created and loved by God. But why, if egalitarian democracy follows from Christianity, didn’t the Europeans, when they were Christian, practice egalitarian democracy? No unbiased, sane human being could claim our current aborting, porno-crazed society is superior to the older European societies. Wouldn’t it be more accurate to say that a Christian people segregates in order to protect their own from contamination, and they make distinctions between peoples in order to ensure that truth has a protected hearth in which to dwell? When the white race ceased to segregate and when they allowed truth to be trampled by barbarian hordes, they ceased to be Christian.

The “Lost Battalion” is the European people who have forsaken Christian Europe for egalitarian, black-worshipping democracy. And every single European who adheres to the egalitarian creed will suffer the same fate as Major Charles Whittlesey. When the battle is not fought in the name of the God who’s love passeth all understanding, the battle and life itself seem futile. Does the struggle availeth, is the race worth running? It is, but only if He awards the laurel wreath.

Labels: , ,