The musings and meandering thoughts of a crotchety old man as he observes life in the world and in a small, rural town in South East Nebraska. My Pledge-Nulla dies sine linea-Not a day with out a line.
By Msgr Luigi Carlo Borromeo, Bishop of Pesaro (1893 – 1975)
"[...] as time goes on, we need to realize more that the divergence between the two currents [one faithful to the Magisterium of the Church and the modernist one] is not of form, but of substance; it is not about the way the truth should be expressed and taught, but about the truth itself.
We are in full-blown modernism.
Not the naive, open, aggressive, and combative modernism at the time of Pius X. No. Today's Modernism is more subtle, more camouflaged, more forceful, and more hypocritical. It doesn't want to start another tempest; it wants the entire Church to find itself modernist without realizing it.”
[From the diary of Monsignor Luigi Carlo Borromeo, Bishop of Pesaro].
For a book-length treatment of the subject, I highly recommend Sir Roger Scruton's How to Think Seriously About the Planet: The Case for an Environmental Conservatism.
A civilisation cannot endure, let alone preserve itself and nature, if its highest promise is to leave no trace of itself.
One of the core moral missions of the contemporary Left is that pursuit of ‘environmental sustainability.’ It is also one of the concepts the Right most often mocks or fails to take seriously. Yet, this dismissal on the Right is misguided.
For one, I have yet to meet conservatives who hate nature: the environment, forests, lakes, and other natural places, not primarily as ecosystems, but as landscapes filled with memory, myth, and meaning. One such example is the Broceliande Forest in Brittany, said to be the resting place of the wizard Merlin and the place where he met Viviane, the Lady of the Lake, who taught him her magic. Broceliande is also home to the fountain of Barenton, a spring that, according to legend, could cure madness and heal many other illnesses. In other versions of the legend, Lancelot and Gawain enter the forest in search of trials of virtue and spiritual purification. Another example is Mount Pelion in Greece, which, according to Greek mythology, together with its surrounding forests, is the home of the Centaurs and of Chiron, who mentored heroes such as Achilles, Heracles, Jason, and Theseus. Conservatives, when they encounter such places, often behave as if they have entered a holy landscape of myth and story, and they instinctively want to preserve it for future generations together with the tales that give it meaning. For conservatives, these places are not merely carbon sinks or biodiversity assets but sacred inheritances that link the living to their ancestors and descendants.
By contrast, the contemporary Left tends to approach the protection of nature primarily through the reduction of carbon emissions and individual ‘carbon footprints.’ To protect the natural world, one is told to minimise one’s footprint within it. In the case of environmentalism, this becomes visible when a forest is reduced to a carbon value rather than understood as a place of memory, myth, and inherited meaning. As Ludwig Klages argued, modernity replaces lived, organic life with abstraction and quantification.
This habit of abstraction and quantification leads Europeans, who, although they live in largely secular societies, nonetheless hunger for meaning, to adopt a new moral and metaphysical framework: a secular quasi-religion of environmentalism. In this framework, self-erasure becomes the highest virtue, a system of impermanence that tells the individual that he is not important enough to leave a footprint in the material world before departing it. One is encouraged to be forgotten as quickly as possible and to leave behind nothing that might be deemed worthy of preservation. Thus, the Left’s ‘sustainability’ becomes not what it claims—a call to stewardship—but a metaphysics of self-hatred and permanent erasure: the idea that one should strive to leave as little trace as possible, to build nothing lasting, to avoid imposing oneself on the world. The human presence is treated less as a custodian of creation than as a problem to be minimised in order to preserve a supposedly purer nature. This mentality is particularly pronounced in Europe.
Other powers do not operate under a morality of self-hatred and degradation. China, for example, continues to expand its industrial base; the United States pursues efficiency, power, and economic dynamism; and Russia’s geopolitical and economic model depends on energy exports. Only Europe treats self-limitation as a civilisational duty and a virtue.
The conservative answer to this should not be mockery or a wholesale rejection of environmental concern. Instead, it should be to replace ‘environmental sustainability’ and its metaphysics of impermanence with permanence and a metaphysics of continuity, a worldview rooted in memory and oriented toward transcendence. The Right should respond to the demand to ‘reduce one’s footprint’ by insisting instead on leaving something worthy of inheritance, works that last for decades and centuries, not a humanity shrunk and degraded to the point of erasure, but one elevated. Edmund Burke, one of the monumental thinkers of British conservatism, wrote that society is in fact a contract between those who are living, those who are dead, and those who are yet to be born. Thus each generation inherits—or builds—a cultural legacy that it must preserve, improve, and pass on to the next. This philosophy stands in stark contrast to the Left’s sustainability-focused ethic of merely reducing harm in the here and now.
It reframes our task as leaving something worthy behind, future-oriented and transcending individualism in order to achieve something larger than oneself—works that can endure for centuries, long after we are gone and even our names are forgotten. Oswald Spengler, in The Decline of the West, argued that cultures pass through cycles. Vigorous cultures that still believe in their own future build monuments, cathedrals, and structures meant to endure for centuries. Civilisations in decline, by contrast, build temporary, soulless, purely functional architecture; glass and steel structures with disposable aesthetics. One need only look at the European Union’s main buildings, the European Parliament, the European Commission, and the European Central Bank, to see where Europe currently stands in terms of civilisational confidence. The architecture of these institutions, with its glass-and-steel aesthetic, reflects a civilisational mood of impermanence and shallowness. These are buildings designed not to inspire awe and endure for generations, but to exude a mood of evanescence. Instead of inspiring reverence like the Parthenon, Hagia Sophia, or the Colosseum, they simply house bureaucrats, technocrats, and their committees and are spiritually empty. They are structures that subordinate the living soul of Europe’s peoples to a sterile technocracy, architecture that embodies administration, not aspiration.
By contrast, architecture that speaks to the soul through its beauty and meaning, and that is designed to endure as something worthy to pass on to the next generation, can be seen in buildings such as the Odeon of Herodes Atticus in Athens, built in 161 AD in memory of his wife, Aspasia Regilla. Almost two thousand years later, it still stands, and after its renovation in 1950, it continues to serve as an amphitheatre for performances. Its builders chose materials and forms intended to last, and the fact that it remains in active use today is itself a testament to a civilisational will to permanence.
An even more enduring example is the Parthenon in Athens, completed in 432 BC under Pericles. It was first a temple dedicated to Athena, the patron goddess of the city. During the Christianisation of the Roman world, it became a church. Under Ottoman rule it was converted into a mosque, and later it was used as a gunpowder magazine. In 1687, during a Venetian attack, a shell struck the building and ignited the gunpowder inside, causing the damage visible today. Even so, it stands as one of the central symbols of Greek and European identity and civilisation. It has survived two and a half millennia of religious change, imperial conquest, and war, and would likely still be almost intact had that shell not hit it.
Colosseum, Rome. Photo: Diliff, CC BY-SA 2.5 , via Wikimedia Commons
Another “eternal” structure is the Colosseum in Rome. There are countless amphitheatres across Italy, but this one is the most iconic. Completed around 80 AD, it spans nearly two thousand years of history. It was built using limestone and Roman concrete, made distinct by the volcanic ash called pozzolana, which allowed the structure to “heal” itself when damaged within reasonable limits. Throughout its history it was used for gladiatorial games, executions, and naval battle reenactments. In the Middle Ages it became a fortress, and today it is a major archaeological site and one of the principal symbols of Italian and Roman identity.
Finally, Neuschwanstein Castle can be seen as a more recent example of an “eternal” building that inspires awe. Built in 1886 by King Ludwig II of Bavaria and itself inspired by Wagnerian operas and Germanic myths, it was planned as the king’s personal refuge and later became a major influence on the Disney castle that appears at the beginning of each Disney film. After Ludwig’s death it was opened to the public and has since become a major symbol of Bavarian identity and one of the most visited castles in the world.
All of the above buildings embody both what Spengler saw as structures built to last and Edmund Burke’s idea of an intergenerational contract, in which each generation inherits a cultural and structural legacy that is preserved and improved through stories, use, and integration into local identity, and then passed on to the next. They stand in stark contrast to the soulless buildings of the EU institutions. Moreover, just as places like Broceliande or Pelion became sacred through myth, these buildings became sacred through continuity and history, adding both a mythic and a material identity that is built upon, preserved, and passed on from one generation to the next.
One of the common pitfalls of conservatism is its tendency toward nostalgia, for a better time, for ancestors, and for lost traditions. Yet this nostalgia is a self-limiting viewpoint. If conservatives wish to play a catalytic role in government and leave their mark, looking only to the past will not be enough. They must also look forward into the future, and, quite frankly, there has never been a better time to do so, given the technological developments now unfolding. Conservatives value rootedness, beauty, depth, soul, permanence, and meaning; they seek to understand where each thing belongs in a culture and why, and to conserve our common humanity. This stands in sharp contrast to figures such as Yuval Noah Harari, who explicitly denies the existence of the soul and adopts a hyper-materialist vision in which machines will replace human beings and render them useless within a few decades.
These conservative values will be indispensable for navigating the coming technological revolution and ordering new inventions according to Europe’s true values, rather than those merely claimed by the EU. The French philosopher Guillaume Faye, in his theory of Archeofuturism, argued that a living civilisation renews itself by fusing its most ancient and authentic values with the most advanced technologies available. He insisted that conservatives must move beyond simple nostalgia. The aim is not to imitate or recreate the past, but to take the most fundamental values of one’s culture, fuse them with today’s technologies, and, armed with both, build the future through new structures, institutions, and ways of life that speak of permanence, stability, and transcendence.
In practical terms, permanence would mean looking to the architectures of the past, perhaps even those mentioned earlier in this essay, for inspiration. It would mean looking to a people’s stories and myths while using the latest construction materials and techniques, combining ancient and modern methods to produce something new and enduring for the generations to come over the next thousand years. Thus, permanence, in an archeofuturist sense, is not the negation of innovation but its proper direction. The past supplies the archetypes, structures, inspiration, stories, beauty, hierarchy, and sacrality; the present supplies the tools, the latest technologies, new materials, and engineering techniques. Through the fusion of the two, the task of conservatives is not to replicate the structures of the past but, using the memories of yesterday and the tools of today, to build something new that endures for ages and, as a by-product, protects the Broceliande Forest, the forests of Pelion, and every similar natural habitat across Europe for the generations to come. What is needed is something timeless in form, technologically advanced for our time, and spiritually grounded in Europe’s ancestral mythic memory: something truly perennial that can rival the buildings of the past in depth, scope, and awe.
If Europe is to endure, it has to abandon the philosophy and metaphysics of shrinking, minimising, and dissolving itself into abstractions. A civilisation cannot endure, let alone preserve itself and nature, if its highest promise is to leave no trace of itself. Thus ‘sustainability,’ as currently defined and practised, forces Europeans to measure themselves in units of guilt rather than in acts of creation. But no culture in history has survived through the worship and practice of its own disappearance. The answer must therefore be permanence, which, when contrasted with ‘sustainability,’ invites a civilisational reawakening by calling Europeans once again to be builders, founders, and inheritors instead of caretakers of their own slow decline. It asks Europeans to return to the same logic used by their ancestors to build the cathedral, the amphitheatre, the castle, and to preserve the mythic landscapes of their own time.
The mission ahead should not be nostalgia but creation: archeofuturism—fusing ancient identity with today’s latest technology to create the buildings of the future that protect the environment from a conservative perspective. If Europe is to be renewed, it must stop trying to erase its footprint and instead put technology in the service of its heritage, beauty, transcendence, and continuation. Thus, the conservatives of this century should aim to build structures—physical, spiritual, and even political—that deserve to be inherited from generation to generation for hundreds of years. Replacing sustainability with permanence is not a vow to erase oneself and leave no trace, but a declaration that says, ‘We were here a thousand years ago. We loved this place, our home, and we built something worthy of our ancestors and our descendants.’
Consider first, that the time of Advent, (so called from being set aside by the church for worthily celebrating the advent, that is, the coming of Christ,) is a penitential time, and a time of devotion, in which we are every day called upon by the church of God to prepare the way of the Lord, to make straight his paths; to enter into the like dispositions of those which St. John the Baptist required of the people when he was sent to preach to them conversion and penance, in order to prepare them for their Messias; that so we also, by turning away from our sins, by sorrow and repentance, and turning ourselves to the Lord our God with our whole heart, by love and affection, may dispose our souls to welcome our Saviour whose birth we are about to celebrate, and to embrace in such manner the mercy and grace which he brings with him at his first coming as to escape hereafter those dreadful judgments which his justice shall execute upon impenitent sinners at his second coming. See then, my soul that thou dedicate this holy time to suitable exercise of devotion and penance, that thou mayest answer the end of this institution.
Consider 2ndly, in what manner we are all summoned by the church, at the beginning of this holy time, (in the words of St. Paul, Rom xiii. 11, read in the epistle of the First Sunday in Advent,) to dispose ourselves now for Christ. 'Knowing the time,' says the apostle, 'that it is now the hour for us to rise from sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. The night is passed, (or far spent,) the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armour of light; let us walk decently, as in the day,' &c. O! my soul, let us consider these words as particularly addressed to us, in order to awaken us, and to stir us up to begin now a new life. Alas! have we not hitherto been quite asleep as to the greatest of all our concerns? Are not far the greatest part of Christians quite asleep by their unaccountable indolence in the great business of the salvation of their souls and of a happy eternity? Are they not sleeping too, which is worse, in the very midst of dangers and of mortal enemies, who are continually plotting their destruction, an even upon the very brink of a precipice, which if they fall down will let them in a moment into hell? O let us then all hearken seriously to this summons, and rouse ourselves now, whilst we have time, out of this unhappy lethargy, and from this hour begin to apply ourselves in good earnest to that only business for which we came into this world. O let us cast off now and for ever the works of darkness, and put on Jesus Christ.
Consider 3rdly, that on the First Sunday of Advent, the terrors also of God's justice are set before our eyes, in the description given in the gospel of the great accounting day; to the end, that they that will not correspond with the sweet invitations of God's mercy, and awake from sleep at the summons addressed to them in the epistle, may be roused at least by the thunder of his justice, denounced in the gospel; and be induced by the wholesome fear of the dreadful judgments that are continually hanging over the heads of impenitent sinners, to make good use of this present time of mercy, lest hereafter there should be neither time nor mercy for them. Ah! sinners, if this day you hear the voice of the Lord, either sweetly inviting you with the allurements of his mercy, or terrifying you with the threats of his judgments, see you harden not your hearts. For now is your time. Sleep on no longer, lest you come to sleep in death, as it happened to them of old, who by refusing to hearken to God's voice, provoked him so far, that he swore to them in his wrath, that they should never enter into his rest. O remember that 'the day of the Lord and his judgments shall come as a snare upon all them that will not watch,' Luke xxi. 55.
Conclude to enter now into the true spirit of this holy time - which is a penitential spirit - and to prepare the way of the Lord, by putting away all thy sins, and purifying thy soul for him; thus shalt thou welcome him at his coming, and shalt be welcome to him.
1. The spirit of peace pervades the Gospel. When Jesus is born, choirs of Angels sing above the stable in Bethlehem: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men of good will.” (Luke 2:14) When our Saviour has risen gloriously from the dead, He appears to His disciples and greets them with the words: “Peace be to you.” Finally, when He is departing from this earth He leaves His peace to His followers as their inheritance. “Peace I leave with you,” He says to them, “my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, or be afraid.” (John 14:27)
Exactly what is the peace of Jesus Christ? It is much different from worldly peace, presuming that the world can give some kind of peace. St. Paul says of the Saviour that “he himself is our peace.” (Eph. 2:14) How are we to understand what is meant by this? The Apostle himself explains when he writes: “Having been justified by faith, let us have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Rom. 5:1)
Jesus Christ, therefore, is our peacemaker. He has shouldered our iniquities and has offered Himself to the Father as a victim of expiation and of reconciliation. It is at the price of Christ's precious blood that we have regained peace with God and freedom from our sins. This is the peace which our Lord has given us. Let us remember, however, that if we return to the slavery of sin we shall lose at once the jewel of peace which Jesus Christ has bestowed on us. “There is no peace to the wicked.” (Is. 48:22) We have experienced on many occasions how true this is. Sin destroys peace of soul because it deprives us of Jesus, without Whom peace cannot survive. Let us resolve, therefore, to remain always close to our Lord and far from sin. Then only shall we be able to preserve our peace of mind in the midst of temptations and of earthly sorrows.
2. We should not imagine, however, that the peace which Jesus brought to us is a lifeless peace like that of a cemetery. On the contrary, it is the peace of conquest, a living peace. It cannot be attained by the sluggard who is aiming at an easy and comfortable existence, but by the generous warrior who is always prepared to throw himself into the fight for virtue, for the glory of God, and for the salvation of souls.
The peace of Jesus Christ is a victory over the evil which is rampant within us and around us. It demands vigilance, strife, and perseverance in fidelity to our Lord. It requires the spirit of sacrifice, the love of God, and dedication to the welfare of our fellow-men. It is the fruit of internal and external combat. It excludes all rancour, envy, detraction, and malice, which is why it costs so much hardship and conflict. When a man has gained the victory, however, he experiences that wonderful spiritual tranquillity which God alone can give.
3.”Blessed are the peacemakers,” said Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount, “for they shall be called children of God.”(Mt. 5:9)
True Christian peace, which accompanies the perfect control of the passions and complete dedication to God's cause, makes us like God and enables us by His grace to become His adopted children. He is the God of peace, in Whom there is no conflict, but only perfect order and harmony. Since He is pure act, He understands Himself fully in all His beauty and perfection, and knowing Himself He loves Himself. He is peace, in an active and not in a passive sense. For this reason the peacemakers are singled out in a special way as the children of God. In other words, they become like God when they acquire that interior tranquillity which is the fruit of virtue and of victory over the flesh. With the help of divine grace, we should do our utmost to gain this peace.
Today is the Feasts of the Holy Prophet Nahum & of Righteous Philaret the Merciful of Amnia in Asia Minor.
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The Holy Prophet Nahum, whose name means “God consoles,” was from the village of Elkosh (Galilee). He lived during the seventh century B.C. The Prophet Naum prophesies the ruin of the Assyrian city of Nineveh because of its iniquity, the destruction of the Israelite kingdom, and the blasphemy of King Sennacherib against God. The Assyrian king Ashurbanipal died in 632 B.C., and over the next two decades, his empire began to crumble. Nineveh fell in 612 B.C.
Nahum differs from most of the prophets in as much as he does not issue any call to repentance, nor does he denounce Israel for infidelity to God.
Details of the prophet’s life are unknown. He died at the age of forty-five and was buried in his native region. He is the seventh of the Twelve Minor Prophets
The Prophet Nahum is invoked for people with mental disorders.
Troparion — Tone 4
We celebrate the memory / of Your prophet Nahum, O Lord; / through him, we entreat You, / save our souls.
Kontakion — Tone 2
(Podoben: “Today You have shown forth...”) Enlightened by the Spirit, your pure heart became the dwelling place of most splendid prophecy; / for you saw things far off as if they were near. / Therefore, we honor you, blessed and glorious Prophet Nahum.
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Righteous Philaret the Merciful, son of George and Anna, was raised in piety and the fear of God. He lived during the eighth century in the village of Amnia in the Paphlagonian district of Asia Minor. His wife, Theoseba, was from a rich and illustrious family, and they had three children: a son John, and daughters Hypatia and Evanthia.
Philaret was a rich and illustrious dignitary, but he did not hoard his wealth. Knowing that many people suffered from poverty, he remembered the words of the Savior about the dread Last Judgment and about “these least ones” (Mt. 25:40); the Apostle Paul’s reminder that we will take nothing with us from this world (1 Tim 6:7); and the assertion of King David that the righteous would not be forsaken (Ps 36/37:25). Philaret, whose name means “lover of virtue,” was famed for his love for the poor.
One day Ishmaelites [Arabs] attacked Paphlagonia, devastating the land and plundering the estate of Philaret. There remained only two oxen, a donkey, a cow with her calf, some beehives, and the house. But he also shared them with the poor. His wife reproached him for being heartless and unconcerned for his own family. Mildly, yet firmly he endured the reproaches of his wife and the jeers of his children. “I have hidden away riches and treasure,” he told his family, “so much that it would be enough for you to feed and clothe yourselves, even if you lived a hundred years without working.”
The saint’s gifts always brought good to the recipient. Whoever received anything from him found that the gift would multiply, and that person would become rich. Knowing this, a certain man came to Saint Philaret asking for a calf so that he could start a herd. The cow missed its calf and began to bellow. Theoseba said to her husband, “You have no pity on us, you merciless man, but don’t you feel sorry for the cow? You have separated her from her calf.” The saint praised his wife, and agreed that it was not right to separate the cow and the calf. Therefore, he called the poor man to whom he had given the calf and told him to take the cow as well.
That year there was a famine, so Saint Philaret took the donkey and went to borrow six bushels of wheat from a friend of his. When he returned home, a poor man asked him for a little wheat, so he told his wife to give the man a bushel. Theoseba said, “First you must give a bushel to each of us in the family, then you can give away the rest as you choose.” Philaretos then gave the man two bushels of wheat. Theoseba said sarcastically, “Give him half the load so you can share it.” The saint measured out a third bushel and gave it to the man. Then Theoseba said, “Why don’t you give him the bag, too, so he can carry it?” He gave him the bag. The exasperated wife said, “Just to spite me, why not give him all the wheat.” Saint Philaret did so.
Now the man was unable to lift the six bushels of wheat, so Theoseba told her husband to give him the donkey so he could carry the wheat home. Blessing his wife, Philaret gave the donkey to the man, who went home rejoicing. Theoseba and the children wept because they were hungry.
The Lord rewarded Philaret for his generosity: when the last measure of wheat was given away, an old friend sent him forty bushels. Theoseba kept most of the wheat for herself and the children, and the saint gave away his share to the poor and had nothing left. When his wife and children were eating, he would go to them and they gave him some food. Theoseba grumbled saying, “How long are you going to keep that treasure of yours hidden? Take it out so we can buy food with it.”
During this time the Byzantine empress Irene (797-802) was seeking a bride for her son, the future emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitos (780-797). Therefore, emissaries were sent throughout all the Empire to find a suitable girl, and the envoys came to Amneia.
When Philaret and Theoseba learned that these most illustrious guests were to visit their house, Philaret was very happy, but Theoseba was sad, for they did not have enough food. But Philaret told his wife to light the fire and to decorate their home. Their neighbors, knowing that imperial envoys were expected, brought everything required for a rich feast.
The envoys were impressed by the saint’s daughters and granddaughters. Seeing their beauty, their deportment, their clothing, and their admirable qualities, the envoys agreed that Philaret’s granddaughter, Maria was exactly what they were looking for. This Maria exceeded all her rivals in quality and modesty and indeed became Constantine’s wife, and the emperor rewarded Philaret.
Thus fame and riches returned to Philaret. But just as before, this holy lover of the poor generously distributed alms and provided a feast for the poor. He and his family served them at the meal. Everyone was astonished at his humility and said: “This is a man of God, a true disciple of Christ.”
He ordered a servant to take three bags and fill one with gold, one with silver, and one with copper coins. When a beggar approached, Philaret ordered his servant to bring forth one of the bags, whichever God’s providence would ordain. Then he would reach into the bag and give to each person, as much as God willed.
Saint Philaret refused to wear fine clothes, nor would he accept any imperial rank. He said it was enough for him to be called the grandfather of the Empress. The saint reached ninety years of age and knew his end was approaching. He went to the Rodolpheia (“The Judgment”) monastery in Constantinople. He gave some gold to the Abbess and asked her to allow him to be buried there, saying that he would depart this life in ten days.
He returned home and became ill. On the tenth day he summoned his family, he exhorted them to imitate his love for the poor if they desired salvation. Then he fell asleep in the Lord. He died in the year 792 and was buried in the Rodolpheia Judgment monastery in Constantinople.
The appearance of a miracle after his death confirmed the sainthood of Righteous Philaret. As they bore the body of the saint to the cemetery, a certain man, possessed by the devil, followed the funeral procession and tried to overturn the coffin. When they reached the grave, the devil threw the man down on the ground and went out of him. Many other miracles and healings also took place at the grave of the saint.
After the death of the righteous Philaret, his wife Theoseba worked at restoring monasteries and churches devastated during a barbarian invasion.
Troparion — Tone 3
From the wealth of your faith in God, / you distributed your riches to the poor, O Philaret. / Your life was adorned with compassion / and you glorified the Giver of mercy. / Implore him to have compassion and mercy on those who praise you!
Kontakion — Tone 3
You possessed the spirit of Job in temptations, / and compassionately distributed your wealth to the poor. / You were a living fountain of almsgiving, / and by your manner of life you gladden those who cry: / Rejoice, O Philaret, servant of Christ God!
IN LUMINE FIDEI: 1 DECEMBER – MONDAY IN THE FIRST WEEK OF ADVENT: Lesson at Matins – Isaiah i. 16 ‒ 18 “Wash yourselves, be clean, take away the evil of your devices from my eyes: cease to do perversely, l...
CHAPTER L. Of the Brethren who are working at a distance from the Oratory, or are on a journey
1 Apr. 1 Aug. 1 Dec.
Let the brethren who are at work at a great distance, or on a journey, and cannot come to the Oratory at the proper time (the Abbot judging such to be the case) perform the Work of God there where they are labouring, in godly fear, and on bended knees. In like manner, let not those who are sent on a journey allow the appointed Hours to pass by; but, as far as they can, observe them by themselves, and not neglect to fulfil their obligation of divine service.
Quarto Nonas Decémbris Luna undécima Anno Dómini 2025
December 2nd 2025, the 11th day of the Moon, were born into the better life:
At Rome, (about the year 363,) the holy Virgin and martyr Bibiana, who under, the profane Emperor Julian was for Christ's sake flogged to death with scourges loaded with lead. There likewise, the holy martyrs the Priest Eusebius, the Deacon Marcellus, Hippolytus, Maximus, Adria, Paulina, Neo, Mary, Martana, and Aurelia, who suffered martyrdom under the judge Secundian, in the persecution under the Emperor Valerian, (in the year 256.) Likewise at Rome, (at the end of the 2nd century,) the holy martyr Pontian and four others. In Africa, the holy martyrs Severus, Securus, Januarius, and Victorinus, who were there crowned with martyrdom, (about the year of Christ 300.) At Aquileia, (about the year 409,) the holy Confessor Chromatius, Bishop (of that see.) At Imola, (in the year 450,) holy Peter, Bishop of Ravenna, styled Chrysologus, (or him of the golden words,) famous for his teaching and holiness, whose feast we keep upon the 4th day of this present month. At Verona, (in the sixth century,) the holy Confessor Lupus, Bishop (of that see.) At Edessa, (about the year 468,) holy Nonnus, Bishop (first of that see, and afterwards of Heliopolis in Syria,) through whose prayers Pelagia the penitent was converted to Christ. At Troas, in Phrygia, holy Bishop Silvanus, famous for miracles. At Brescia, holy Bishop Evasius. ℣. And elsewhere many other holy martyrs, confessors, and holy virgins. ℟. Thanks be to God.
Traditional Catholic evening devotional prayers to close your day with your mind, heart, tongue, and soul on our Lord! The month of November is dedicated to the Holy Souls in Purgatory. Begin and end each day with prayer.
People, if you have any prayers,Say prayers for me;And lay me under a Christian stoneIn this lost land I thought my own,To wait till the holy horn be blownAnd all poor men are free. 'Ballad of Alfred.'
From a questionable source. The presenter was deposed from an Old Calendarist non-Canonical Orthodox Church for heresy and his involvement with neo-nazism, in combination with various canonical offences.
I love Dr Matthew Raphael Johnson's content, particularly for identifying both capitalism and communism as false dichotomies that are both destructive to the Christian social order. Here is the description for this episode on his podcast:
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Dr Matthew Raphael Johnson talks about the concept of corporatism and the different forms it took in Russia and elsewhere.
Corporatism is the economic theory of both nationalism and royalism. It isn't the rule of corporations in our modern sense, but a union of people that serve a specific social function. It Is the original conception of the word “class.”
The point is to bring the best of the medieval guilds into our Postmodern condition. It has been tried in many different ways from Taiwan to Germany to Argentina and has been an economic success.
It arose in western Europe as a defense against the omnipotence of the financial conspirators who emerged from the First World War. Italy, Austria, Spain, Portugal and Germany developed their own Corporate structure.
Its manifestation has been different over the decades, but the essence is the same. “The state is not a mechanism of competing interests, but an organism of fraternal service, the unity of faith, honor and sacrifice” says Ivan Il'lyn, the great Russian nationalist.
Corporatism is the organization of society into syndicates, social bodies representing necessary functions in society. These are collective and public organizations composed of all persons who together fill the same function in the nation.
Its purpose is to assure the exercise of this function in the supreme interest of the nation, by means of rules and rights imposed on its members. This isn't a dry conception of public policy or “consensus politics,” but the very lifeblood of virtue.
This video explores the collapse of several European monarchies from the 19th to the 20th century. From Romania and Hungary to Bulgaria and Portugal, we follow the rise and fall of kings, princes, and tsars whose dynasties were shaken by wars, revolutions, and shifting political realities.
Discover how World War II and the rise of communism transformed Eastern Europe, and why many royal families ended their days in exile. This is the story of how old kingdoms crumbled, and how modern Europe was born.
St. Andrew was eagerly waiting for the Messiah and when he found him, took others to see him.
St. Andrew the Apostle is almost always celebrated during the Advent season and his is typically the first feast day of the season of preparation. While St. Andrew didn't encounter Jesus until the beginning of his public ministry, Andrew's actions in the Gospel of John provide for us a perfect model for Advent.
St. John Chrysostom provides for us a commentary on St. Andrew and how he fits within this season before Christmas.
St. Andrew was like many Jews of the 1st century, waiting with expectation for the coming of the Messiah. He did not know when the Messiah would come, but he had hope that one day his longing would be fulfilled.
This is an important lesson for us. We too should cultivate in our hearts a special longing for Jesus, waiting with expectation for not only his second coming, but also his coming to us in the gift of the Holy Eucharist. One of the primary marks of a Christian is to spend our lives longing to be with Jesus.
St. John Chrysostom continues his commentary and notes how St. Andrew's desire to share the good news with his brother highlights another central key of Advent.
One of the greatest tasks we have as Christians is to share the joy we have received with others. During Advent we wait for Christmas, and then when Christmas arrives, we are challenged to share that joy of Jesus with others.
As we progress through Advent, may St. Andrew the Apostle intercede for us and help us share the joy of finding Jesus with others.
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