31 August 2024
A Comment on 'How To Answer if Your Child Asks if the Bible Conflicts With Science'
Received on Facebook from Peter Hansen commenting on the article I shared here.
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Evolutionary theory is just another mental construct, not basically different than politics, or poetry, or sports. It may be true or false in various particulars, but its value is drawn principally from the society that choses to believe it. This is the idea that children must be taught, if they are properly to understand the limitations of what their teachers are teaching them. I asked the same question when I was a boy, and the man who gave me my answer was a priest, but he was a Buddhist priest. He told me that "science" and religion address different fundamentals and employ different methods to arrive at their conclusions.
This is especially accurate in terms of attempting to apply the scientific method to the past. The past, of course, does not exist, except in our imaginations and in the mind - - or eyes, if you prefer --- of God and the angels. When this fact is fully assimilated, it becomes easier to understand that attempting to define a "truth" to the past via the scientific method is something of an exercise in creative imagination. Whether we are discussing the supposed division of species across time, the origin of the planets or the stars, or the origins of mankind, the past cannot be tested, it cannot be recreated, and to the extent it can be known, it can only be known in part.
Sacred scripture and the sacraments, being the Word of God, are not really "past" in the same way. They are present, because God is always present. Hopefully this is simpler for the Traditionalist to grasp. The Traditionalist understands that the repetition of the sacrament in its proper form allows our worship to exist outside of the ordinary constraints of days, months and years.
Catholic California
Whilst California has become the 'Left Coast' sliding into the abyss of 'progressive' politics, we should not forget its Catholic roots going back to the Spanish.
From One Peter Five
By Charles Coulombe, KCSS, STM
Above: Father Serra Celebrates Mass at Monterey; painting by Léon Trousset, 1877.
Having come back to California after years abroad, I must admit that the tarnish on the Golden State is exceedingly visible. I was born in New York City, New York, but lived most of my life around Los Angeles. It has not escaped me that my native states and cities have respectively the two stupidest governors and mayors in the Glorious Union. The homeless problem in LA has ballooned in my absence, while inflation and corporate flight are wreaking horror on the economy in all of California. A great many of my friends have fled.
But for all that, I want to look at some of the things that will still attract the outsider – and especially the Catholic outsider – to visit. I do not know if I shall ever live there permanently again, but there are places to which I’ll want to return – and which, in the August of this waning summer, I wish to share with you.
Christendom in California
The Golden State’s natural settings remain as remarkable as ever: our national parks, national forests, Federal public lands, state parks, state forests, and county and city parks remain – for the most part – as inviting as ever. Death Valley, the High Sierras, Lake Tahoe, Big Sur, the high deserts – the list goes on and on. There are few landscapes that cannot be found within California’s borders, and it is against these astonishing backdrops that the State’s history has been acted out.
Needless to say, California’s Indian tribes were extremely diverse – not least because it was not an easy place to make a living. Smaller, broken tribes, pushed out of lusher places, made up California’s pre-Columbian population. Their standard of living was rather low; for the most part their existence depended upon acorns and rabbits – although coastal tribes supplemented this with shellfish and fish.
The arrival of St. Junípero Serra and the Spanish in 1769 changed this picture considerably. With additional meats, vegetables, and grain, the standard of living of the Mission Indians rose considerably. By 1821, twenty missions were founded, in a mostly coastal chain from San Diego to San Rafael, with a 21st being founded under Mexican rule at Sonoma two years later. Two cities were founded – Los Angeles and San Jose – and four presidios or forts at San Diego, Santa Barbara, Monterey, and San Francisco. Around this bare structure were scores of ranchos, whose denizens raised cattle, practiced their Catholic Faith, visited each other, and celebrated an endless number of fandangos per year. Such was the Spanish California of song and story.
The Coming of the Anglos
When Mexico detached California from Spain, the new rulers eventually secularised the missions. This resulted in the scattering of their Indian populations and a number of other unpleasantries. Yankee settlers in time would launch the 1846 Bear Flag Revolt, by which the American invasion forces brought California into the United States. The Gold Rush of 1849 brought in settlers from all over the country and the world, and in 1850, California became a State of the Union. San Francisco became a real city, complete with opera and theatre; such amenities would also adorn many of the mining towns of the High Sierras that rose up quickly out of nothing – and often sank back as quickly into the soil.
After the Civil War and the opening of the railroads, more immigrants rushed in. Among these were a great many writers and artists. The romance of Spanish California gave birth to such tales as Zorro and Ramona. The missions were restored, and the beauty of both built and natural landscape gave birth to a native school of painting – California Plein Aire.
Examples of it abound, but one of the best examples is the Picture Bridge, at Pasadena’s Langham Huntington Hotel.
Artists flocked to towns like Carmel, La Jolla, and Pasadena’s Arroyo Seco. Remnants of the latter’s turn of the century artisans’ colony are the Lummis House, Judson Stained Glass Studios, Rancho San Encino’s Press, and the Batchelder Tile Company. The American version of the Arts and Crafts movement produced a local architectural variant, the California Bungalow, while even such a mundane product as packing for the region’s citrus fruits gave birth to a unique art form. Cheap land and weakened denominational ties also began California’s reign – especially in the Southern half – as a refuge for “alternative” spiritualities.
Catholic Hollywood
After World War I, this latter became a much bigger element of the State’s life, in concert with the rise of the film industry. The Golden Age of Hollywood drew ever more immigrants; a stream of Midwestern visionaries came out to the Golden State, including the founder of Forest Lawn Cemeteries, Dr. Hubert Eaton; Ronald Reagan; the parents of writer Ray Bradbury; and Walt Disney. These and thousands of lesser-known folk transformed the State yet again – especially the Los Angeles area, where the 1920s and 30s saw scores of neighbourhoods thrown up seemingly overnight. The Catholic Church sought, as she had since the coming of American rule, to keep up with these expanding numbers by opening up ever more parishes, schools and hospitals. Thanks to the Hayes Code and the Legion of Decency, she was able to contribute a beneficial if ultimately fleeting influence over the film industry. Of course, this was combined with the influence of Catholic actors, directors, and producers.
California Gets Weird
World War II ushered in a great many changes to California. Apart from the great Battle of Los Angeles, when – depending upon whom you speak to – the city held off either space aliens, Japanese, or self-delusion, the State was unaffected directly by the combat raging across the globe. But thousands of Americans from out of State passed through – many resolved to return, whenever the war should end. The opening of wartime aerospace and other industries expanded the financial base and provided thousands of job opportunities for the returnees. These in turn required housing, and the great California suburban housing boom arose to accommodate them. To the Theosophical, Lemurian, and other odd religiosities were added UFO cults of various sorts, in keeping with the wonders of the atomic age. Disneyland opened in 1955 and symbolised in many ways the inner yearning of its creator and his public.
But the Age of Eisenhower made way for the Age of Aquarius. This was when my family and I arrived in Los Angeles from New York. The whole Hippie subculture, ranging from Los Angeles to San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury, would usher in changes to the State’s culture that became – during the 1970s – institutionalised across the country and the world. My family’s immediate experience of this was the explosion of the Carl Rogers-deluded IHM Sisters in 1968. However, the election of Ronald Reagan as Governor in 1966 had shown that there were more conservative forces at work as well. Still – although he would bitterly regret it later – it was Ronnie who legalized abortion in our State, two years before Roe v. Wade.
In many ways, California has been a bellwether for the rest of America; if New England is where the United States are from, the Golden State is where they are headed. If that holds true, expect a leadership further and ever further removed from reality, chairing a mob who follow their leaders into madness. It is a bleak picture, to be sure.
But in the meantime, there is yet much to be seen. If you wish to visit the Golden State, you can still see some wonderful remnants of the history I have described here. The best way to experience it is to use the Spanish Royal Road – El Camino Real – from San Diego to Sonoma as the spine of your visit, so to speak. In addition to Mission San Diego, you can see the Junípero Serra Museum, the complex of attractions in Balboa Park, the San Diego Zoo, Old Town, and two 19th century hotels – the U.S. Grant, downtown, with its famed Mock Turtle Soup, and the mysterious Hotel Del Coronado on the island of the same name.
Driving north along the coast, you’ll come to Oceanside with Mission San Luis Rey and Prince of Peace Abbey. Continuing in the same direction will bring you to San Juan Capistrano with its eponymous Mission, and an old shopping and dining district. Driving through Orange County, you’ll arrive at Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm. If you can tear yourself away from these, a northern jaunt into the San Gabriel Valley past the Pico Adobe will bring you to Mission San Gabriel, where the first settlers from Mexico rested in August of 1781, before pushing on to found Los Angeles in September of that year.
Remaining in the centre of the City of Angels from that time are the Plaza Church and what is now El Pueblo de Los Angeles Park, wherein the great metropolis was born. Nearby are City Hall, the exceedingly beautiful Central Library, the former Cathedral of St. Vibiana, the horrendous current Cathedral, Little Tokyo, and Chinatown.
Northwest of Downtown Los Angeles is the area called Hollywood. Once glamorous, then a slum, it is now a Disneyfied version of itself. But you can still find traces of its Golden Age at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, the Roosevelt Hotel, Musso and Frank’s Grill, Miceli’s Restaurant, and the Pantages and El Capitan Theatres. If you really want more glamour from that era, make a run down to Long Beach and the RMS Queen Mary. In any case, pass on into the San Fernando Valley; you can stop at the Campo de Cahuenga and Universal Studios en route – the one for history, the other for, well, still more film. San Fernando Mission in the northwest edge of the Valley gives its name to the whole.
The next Mission in the chain is at the town of Ventura, but there are several ways of getting there. Go inland, and you can pass through Santa Paula and visit the amazing chapel at Thomas Aquinas College. Pass down through Topanga Canyon to the Sea, and you can hit Malibu, and proceed up the coast. Both roads come together at Mission San Buenaventura. From there you’ll proceed up the coast to the Santa Barbara area.
This well-to-do region boasts such resorts at the Miramar, Rancho San Ysidro, Montecito Inn, and El Encanto. Its mission is spectacular, and it retains its presidio and a charming downtown.
The Art Museum, County Courthouse, Lobero Theatre, and Poor Clare Monastery are all worth a look. Move inland on the road to Solvang, and you’ll pass the Cold Springs Tavern, and ancient stagecoach stop that has always remined me of Tolkien’s Inn at Bree. Soon you’ll come to Mission Santa Ynes, and the afore-mentioned Danish town of Solvang, which is like a little bit of that Scandinavian Kingdom scooped up and dropped down into California. Then comes Lompoc and Mission La Purisima – in State hands but giving a good idea of what all the missions were like in their heyday.
Just past the truly eye-popping Madonna Inn is the town of San Luis Obispo, with its own namesake Mission – alas, the most uglified of them all. Here you must decide if you will take the inland Mission route – via San Miguel, San Antonio de Pala (off the main road in the heart of the Hunter Liggett Military Reservation, near another mission style building that was once a hunting lodge owned by W.R. Hearst), Soledad (the loneliest mission of them all) and then overland via Carmel Valley to Carmel. Otherwise, you’ll take the coast road – Morro Bay with its impressive Morro Rock in the harbour; cute little Cambria; Hearst Castle at San Simeon, and on to the incredible scenery of Big Sur. If you take this route, you’ll know you have arrived at Carmel when you see the lovely Carmelite monastery on a hill high above the roadway.
This is your entry into the picturesque Monterey peninsula. Carmel Mission with its shrine of St. Junípero Serra is of course your first stop. You might have breakfast at the Tuck Box, if you love Hobbitish style meals. Carmel too has its art museum and forest theater – and much else besides. The seventeen mile drive connects it with Pacific Grove via extraordinary scenery. PG itself boasts the Monarch Butterfly Refuge; then you come to Monterey with its Spanish-era Royal Presidio Chapel and Customs House, and, of course, Fishermen’s Wharf and Cannery Row.
After a brief jaunt inland to see Mission San Juan Bautista, you’ll hit the coast once more, and take in the college-and-mission town of Santa Cruz. Driving north over the hills, you’ll come at last to the Santa Clara Valley – once a wonderful wine region, now paved over as Silicon Valley. Santa Clara university’s chapel is actually the Mission of that name, while confusingly San Jose’s cathedral of St. Joseph is the first of two parish churches founded under the Spanish (LA’s Plaza Church being the other), and visiting Mission San Jose requires a brief detour to the nearby town of Fremont.
Drive north again, and you shall come to San Francisco. As with Los Angeles and San Diego, there is an awful lot for the Catholic pilgrim to see, even in this would-be self-anointed New Sodom. There are a great many beautiful Catholic churches – as well as an ugly cathedral. But Dolores Mission was the beginning of the city, and the presidio’s officer club dates back to 1776. Golden Gate Park is well worth exploring, and as for dining, this writer recommends John’s Grill, with its memories of Dashiell Hammett and the Maltese Falcon. There is of course much more to see here and in Berkely, a sort of Colonial Williamsburg for the 1960s Counterculture. But we must move on!
Over the storied Golden Gate Bridge is San Rafael, and its mission replica. Driving north, we arrive at Sonoma, whose mission is also a state park, which comprises the Mexican presidio as well. Here is where the Bear Flag revolt was staged. North of the town stretch the Sonoma and Napa Valles, with their vineyards, fine dining, and various Catholic customs. In Napa itself, in recent years, the Napa Institute – a “ministry to Catholic ministries” has become an annual event. It is a true sign of a hopeful future in the midst of all the darkness.
There is of course far more to see in California than the slight itinerary I have attempted to paint for you. But this should whet your appetite – especially if ever you are able to make such a trip. In any case, when one is tempted to simply dismiss California as a Leftist stronghold, remember that there is a lot more here than that – as may be said of anywhere else on this planet of ours, where the Kingdom of God is always cheek by jowl with the Kingdom of Man.
St Raymond Nonnatus, Confessor
Today's Holy Mass from Corpus Christi Church, Tynong, AUS. You may follow the Mass at Divinum Officium.
St Raymond Nonnatus, Confessor
From Dom Prosper Guéranger's Liturgical Year:
August closes as it began, with a feast of deliverance; as though that were the divine seal set by Eternal Wisdom upon this month—the month when holy Church makes the works and ways of Divine Wisdom the special object of her contemplation.
Upon the fall of our first parents and their expulsion from Paradise, the Word and Wisdom of God, that is, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, began the great work of our deliverance—that magnificent work of human Redemption which, by an all-gracious, eternal degree of the three Divine Persons, was to be wrought out by the Son of God in our flesh. And as that blessed Savior, in his infinite wisdom, made spontaneous choice of sorrows, of sufferings, and of death on a cross as the best means of our redemption, so has he always allotted to his best loved friends the kind of life which he had deliberately chosen for himself, that is, the way of the Cross. And the nearest and dearest to him were those who were predestined, like his Blessed Mother, the Mater Dolorosa, to have the honor of being most like himself—the Man of Sorrows. Hence the toils and trials of the greatest Saints; hence the great deliverances wrought by them, and their heroic victories over the world and over the spirits of wickedness in the high places.
On the feasts of St. Raymund of Pegnafort and St. Peter Nolasco, we saw something of the origin of the illustrious Order, of which Raymund Nonnatus added such glory. Soon the august foundress herself, Our Lady of Mercy, will come in person to receive the expression of the world’s gratitude for so many benefits. The following Legend recounts the peculiar merits of our Saint of today.
Raymund, surnamed Nonnatus, (that is, not born) on account of his having been brought into the world in an unusual manner after the death of his mother, was of a pious and noble family of Portelli in Catalonia. From his very infancy he showed signs of his future holiness; for, despising childish amusements and the attractions of the world, he applied himself to the practice of piety so that all wondered at his virtues, which far surpassed his age. As he grew older, he began his studies; but after a short time, he returned at his father’s command to live in the country. He frequently visited the chapel of St. Nicholas, built near Portelli, in order to venerate in it a holy image of the Mother of God, which is still more honored by the faithful. There he would pour out his prayers, begging God’s holy Mother to adopt him for her son and to deign to teach him the way of salvation and the science of the saints.
The most benign Virgin heard his prayer and gave him to understand that it would greatly please her if he entered the Religious Order lately founded by her inspiration, under the name of the Order of “Ransom, or of Mercy for the redemption of captives.” Upon this Raymund at once set out for Barcelona, there to embrace that institute so full of brotherly charity. Thus, enrolled in the army of holy religion, he persevered in perpetual virginity, which he had already consecrated to the Blessed Virgin. He excelled also in every other virtue most especially in charity towards those Christians who were living in miery, as slaves of the pagans. He was sent to Africa to redeem them and freed many from slavery. But when he had exhausted his money, rather than abandon others who were in danger of losing their faith, he gave himself up to the barbarians as a pledge for their ransom. Burning with a most ardent desire for the salvation of souls, he converted several Mahometans to Christ by his preaching. On this account he was thrown into a close prison and after many tortures his lips were pierced through and fastened together with an iron padlock, which cruel martyrdom he endured for a long time.
This and his other noble deeds spread the fame of his sanctity far and near, so that Gregory IX determined to enroll him in the august college of the cardinals of the Holy Roman Church. When raised to that dignity the man of God shrank from all pomp and clung always to religious humility. On his way to Rome, as soon as he reached Cardona, he was attacked by his last illness, and earnestly begged to be strengthened by the Sacraments of the Church. As his illness grew worse and the priest delayed to come, Angels appeared, clothed in the religious habit of his Order, and refreshed him with the saving Viaticum. Having received It he gave thanks to God and passed to our Lord on the last Sunday of August in the year 1240. Contentions arose concerning the place where he should be buried; his coffin was therefore placed upon a blind mule and by the will of God it was taken to the chapel of St. Nicholas, that it might be buried in that place where he had first begun a more perfect life. A convent of his Order was built in the spot, and there famous for many signs and miracles he is honored by the concourse of all the faithful of Catalonia, who come there to fulfill their vows.
To what a length, O illustrious Saint, didst thou follow the counsel of the Wise man! The bands of Wisdom, says he, are a healthful binding. (Ecclesiasticus 6:31) And, not satisfied with putting thy feet into her fetters and thy neck into her chains, (Ecclesiasticus 6:25) in the joy of thy love thou didst offer thy lips to the dreadful padlock, not mentioned by the son of Sirach. But what a reward is thine, now that this Wisdom of the Father, whose twofold precept of charity thou didst so fully carry out, inebriates thee with the torrent of eternal delights, adorning thy brow with the glory and grace which radiate from her own beauty! We would fain be forever with thee near that throne of light; teach us, then, how to walk in this world by the beautiful ways and peaceable paths of Wisdom. Deliver our souls, if they be still captive in sin; break the chains of our self-love and give us instead those blessed bands of Wisdom which are humility, abnegation, self-forgetfulness, love of our brethren for God’s sake, love of God for his own sake.
St Aidan of Lindisfarne ~ Apostle of the Missions
A sermon for today. Please remember to say 3 Hail Marys for the Priest.
St Raymond Nonnatus ~ Lips Padlocked for Christ
A sermon for today. Please remember to say 3 Hail Marys for the Priest.
St Aidan, or Ædan, Bishop of Lindisfarne: Butler's Lives of the Saints
An audio reading of the entry on St Aidan.
St Aidan, or Ædan, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Confessor
From Fr Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints:
WHEN the holy king Oswald* desired the bishops of Scotland to send him a person honored with the episcopal character to preach the faith to his Anglo-Saxon pagan subjects, and plant the Church among them, the first person who came was of a rough austere temper, and therefore could do little good, and being soon forced to return home again, he laid the fault on the rude indocile dispositions of the English. Hereupon the Scottish clergy called a synod to deliberate what was best to be done. Aidan, who was present, told the prelate, on his blaming the obstinacy of the English, that the fault lay rather in him, who had been too harsh and severe to an ignorant people, who ought first to be fed with the milk of milder doctrine, till they should be able to digest more solid food. At this discourse the whole assembly turned their eyes upon him, as one endued with prudence, the mother of other virtues; and he was appointed to the great and arduous mission.
Aidan was a native of Ireland (then called Scotland), and a monk of Hij, the great monastery which his countryman, St. Columba, had founded, and to which the six neighbouring islands were given, as Buchanan mentions. He was most graciously received by king Oswald, who bestowed on him for his episcopal seat the isle of Lindisfarne.* Of his humility and piety Bade gives an edifying account, and proposes him as an excellent pattern for succeeding bishops and clergymen to follow. He obliged all those who travelled with him, to bestow their time either in reading the scriptures, or in learning the psalms by heart. By his actions he showed that he neither sought nor loved the good things of this world; the presents which were made him by the king, or by other rich men, he distributed among the poor, or expended in redeeming captives. He rarely would go to the king’s table, and never without taking with him one or two of his clergy, and always after a short repast made haste away to read or pray in the church, or in his cell. From his example even the laity took the custom of fasting till none, that is till three in the afternoon, on all Wednesdays and Fridays, except during the fifty days of the Easter time. Our venerable historian admires his apostolic liberty in reproving the proud and the great, his love of peace, charity, continence, humility, and all other virtues, which he not only practised himself, but, by his spirit and example, communicated to a rough and barbarous nation, which he imbued with the meekness of the cross.† Aidan fixed his see at Lindisfarne, and founded a monastery there in the year of our Lord 635, the hundred and eighty-eighth after the coming of the English Saxons into Britain, the thirty-ninth after the arrival of St. Augustine, and the second of the reign of king Oswald. From this monastery all the churches of Bernicia, or the northern part of the kingdom of the Northumbers from the Tyne to the Firth of Edinburgh, had their beginning; as had some also of those of the Deïri, who inhabited the southern part of the same kingdom from the Tyne to the Humber. The see of York had been vacant thirty years, ever since St. Paulinus had left it; so that St. Aidan governed all the churches of the Northumbers for seventeen years, till his happy death, which happened on the 31st of August in 651, in the royal villa Bebbord. He was first buried in the cemetery in Lindisfarne; but when the new church of St. Peter was built there, his body was translated into it, and deposited on the right hand of the altar. Colman, when he returned into Scotland, carried with him part of his bones to St. Columb’s of Hij.‡ He is named on this day in the Roman Martyrology. See Bede: Leland Collect. t. 1, p. 512, alias 366.
St Raymond Nonnatus, Confessor
From Fr Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints:
From the Chronicles of his Order, and other Memoirs collected by Pinlus the Bollandist, Augusti, t. 6, p. 729. See also Helyot, who chiefly copies Balliet.
A. D. 1240.
ACCORDING to the rule laid down by our divine Redeemer,1 that Christian approves himself his most faithful disciple, and gives the surest and greatest proof of his love of God, who most perfectly loves his neighbor for God’s sake. By this test of true sanctity we are to form our judgment of the glorious saint whom the Church honors on this day. Saint Raymund Nonnatus* was born at Portel in the diocess of Urgel, in Catalonia, in the year 1204, and was descended of a gentleman’s family of a small fortune. In his childhood he seemed to find no other pleasure than in his devotions and serious duties. Such was his application to his grammar studies, and so happy his genius, as to spare his preceptor much pains in his education. His father, resolving to cross his inclination to a religious or ecclesiastical state, which he began to perceive in him, took him from school, and sent him to take care of a farm which he had in the country. Raymund readily obeyed, and in order to enjoy the opportunity of holy solitude, by voluntary choice, kept the sheep himself, and in the mountains and forests spent his time in holy meditation and prayer, imitating the austerities of the ancient anchorets. Some time after he was pressed by his friends to go to the court of Arragon, where, by his prudence and abilities, he could not fail to make a fortune, being related to the illustrious houses of Foix and Cardona. These importunities obliged him to hasten the execution of his resolution of taking the religious habit in the new Order of our Lady of Mercy for the redemption of captives. Our saint could say with holy Job, that compassion for the poor or distressed had grown up with him from his childhood. The sufferings of the Christians, who, in neighboring provinces, almost under his eyes, groaned in the most inhuman slavery, under the Moors, particularly afflicted his tender heart; by compassion he bore all their burdens, and felt the weight of all their chains. But if he was moved at their corporal sufferings, and earnestly desired to devote himself, and all that he possessed, to procure them comfort and relief under their temporal afflictions, he was much more afflicted by their spiritual dangers of sinking under their calamities, and losing their immortal souls by impatience or apostasy from Christ. For this he never ceased to weep and pray, entreating the God of mercy to be himself the comfort and support of the weak and of the strong; and he wished with St. Pau1,2 to spend and be spent himself for their souls. In these dispositions he obtained of his unwilling father, through the mediation of the count of Cardona, leave to embrace the above-mentioned Order: and was accordingly admitted to his profession at Barcelona by the holy founder St. Peter Nolasco.
The extraordinary fervor of the saint in this new state, his perfect disengagement from the world, his profound humility, sincere obedience, wonderful spirit of mortification and penance, seraphic devotion, and constant recollection, rendered him the model and the admiration of his brethren. So surprising was the progress that he made in the perfection of his holy institute, that, within two or three years after his profession, he was judged the best qualified to discharge the office of Ransomer, in which he succeeded St. Peter. Being sent into Barbary with a considerable sum of money he purchased, at Algiers, the liberty of a great number of slaves. When all this treasure was laid out in that charitable way, he voluntarily gave himself up as a hostage for the ransom of certain others, whose situation was hardest, and whose faith seemed exposed to imminent danger. The magnanimous sacrifice which the saint had made of his own liberty served only to exasperate the Mahometans, who treated him with uncommon barbarity, till the infidels, fearing lest if he died in their hands they should lose the ransom which was stipulated to be paid for the slaves for whom he remained a hostage, upon a remonstrance made on that account by the cadi or magistrate of the city, gave orders that he should be treated with more humanity. Hereupon he was permitted to go abroad about the streets; which liberty in made use of to comfort and encourage the Christians in their chains, and he converted and baptized some Mahometans. Upon information hereof, the governor condemned him to be impaled, that is, to be put to death by thrusting a stake into the body through the hinder parts; this being a barbarous manner of executing criminals much in use among those infidels. However, the persons who were interested in the ransom of the captives, lest they should be losers, prevailed that his life should be spared; and, by a commutation of his punishment, he underwent a cruel bastinado. This torment did not daunt his courage. So long as he saw souls in danger of perishing eternally, he thought he had yet done nothing; nor could he let slip any opportunity of endeavoring to prevent their so frightful misfortune. He considered that, as St. Chrysostom says,3 “Though a person shall have bestowed an immense treasure in alms, he has done nothing equal to him who has contributed to the salvation of a soul. This is a greater alms than ten thousand talents; than this whole world, how great soever it appears to the eye, for a man is more precious than the whole world.”
St. Raymund had on one side no more money to employ in releasing poor captives; and, on the other, to speak to a Mahometan upon the subject of religion was capital by the standing laws of the Mussulmans. He could, however, still exert his endeavors, with hopes of some success, or of dying a martyr of charity. He therefore resumed his former method of instructing and exhorting both the Christians and the Infidels. The governor, who was immediately apprised of his behavior, was strangely enraged, and commanded the zealous servant of Christ to be whipped at the corners of all the streets in the city, his lips to be bored with a red-hot iron in the market-place, and his mouth shut up with a padlock, the key of which he kept himself and only gave to the keepers when the prisoner was to eat. In this condition he was loaded with iron bolts and chains, and cast into a dark dungeon, where he lay full eight months, till his ransom was brought by some religious men of his Order, who were sent with it by Saint Peter. Raymund was unwilling to leave his dungeon, or at least the country of the infidels, where he desired to remain to assist the slaves; but he acquiesced in obedience to the orders of his general, begging God would accept his tears, seeing he was not worthy to shed his blood for the souls of his neighbors.
Upon his return to Spain he was nominated cardinal by pope Gregory IX. But so little was he affected with the involuntary honor, that he neither changed his dress, nor his poor cell in the convent, nor his manner of living. Much less could he be prevailed upon by the nobility of the country to accept of a palace, to admit an equipage or train, or to suffer any rich furniture to be added to his little necessaries in his cell. The pope, being desirous to have so holy a man about his person, and to employ him in the public affairs of the Church, called him to Rome. The saint obeyed, but could not be persuaded to travel otherwise than as a poor religious man. He went no further than Cardona, which is only six miles from Barcelona, when he was seized with a violent fever, which, by the symptoms which attended it, soon appeared to be mortal. St. Raymund prepared himself for his last passage. Some historians relate that he was favored with a vision of angels, in which he received the holy viaticum. His death happened on the 31st of August, in the year 1240, the thirty-seventh year of his age. He was buried in a chapel of St. Nicholas, near the farm in which he had formerly lived. St. Peter Nolasco founded a great convent in that place, in 1255, and St. Raymund’s relics are still kept in that church. The history of many miracles wrought by his means is to be seen in the Bollandists. Pope Alexander VII. inserted his name in the Martyrology in 1657.
This saint gave not only his substance but also his liberty, and even exposed himself to the most cruel torments and death, for the redemption of captives, and the salvation of souls. But alas I how cold now-a-days is charity in our breasts, though it be the essential characteristic of true Christians! Far from the heroic sentiments of the saints, do not we, merely to gratify our prodigality, vanity, or avarice, refuse to give the superfluous part of our possessions to the poor, who, for want of it, are perishing with cold and hunger? Are not we slothful and backward in affording a visit or comfort to poor prisoners, or sick persons, or in using our interest to procure some relief for the distressed? Are we not so insensible to their spiritual miseries as to be without all feeling for them, and to neglect even to commend them to God with sufficient earnestness, to admonish sinners according to our circumstances and the rules of prudence, or to instruct, by ourselves and others, those under our care? By this mark is it not manifest that self-love, and not the love of God and our neighbor, reigns in our hearts, whilst we seek and pursue so inordinately our own worldly interest, and are sensible to it alone? Let us sound our own hearts, and take an impartial view of our lives, and we shall feel whether this test of Christ, or that of Satan, which is self-love, be more sensible in our affections, and whether is the governing principle of our actions.
Collect of St Aidan of Lindisfarne, Bishop & Confessor ~ Indulgenced on the Saint's Feast (See Note)
According to the Apostolic Penitentiary, a partial indulgence is granted to those who on the feast of any Saint recite in his honour the oration of the Missal or any other approved by legitimate Authority.
R. And let my cry come unto thee.
Let us pray.
We beseech Thee, O Lord, hear our prayers which we offerest on the festival of Blessed Aidan, Thy Confessor & Bishop, and through his intercessory merits, who hadst the grace to serve Thee worthily, absolve us from all our sins.
Let us pray.
We beseech Thee, O Lord, hear our prayers which we offerest on the festival of Blessed Aidan, Thy Confessor & Bishop, and through his intercessory merits, who hadst the grace to serve Thee worthily, absolve us from all our sins.
Through Jesus Christ, Thy Son our Lord, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end.
R. Amen.
Collect of St Raymond Nonnatus, Confessor ~ Indulgenced on the Saint's Feast
According to the Apostolic Penitentiary, a partial indulgence is granted to those who on the feast of any Saint recite in his honour the oration of the Missal or any other approved by legitimate Authority.
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V. O Lord, hear my prayer.
R. And let my cry come unto thee.
Let us pray
O God, Who didst make thy blessed Confessor Raymond to do a wonderful work in delivering thy faithful ones from bondage to the unbelievers, grant unto us at his prayers to be delivered from the chains of sin, and with all willingness of mind to do those things that are pleasing in thy sight.
Let us pray
O God, Who didst make thy blessed Confessor Raymond to do a wonderful work in delivering thy faithful ones from bondage to the unbelievers, grant unto us at his prayers to be delivered from the chains of sin, and with all willingness of mind to do those things that are pleasing in thy sight.
Through Jesus Christ, Thy Son our Lord, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, God, world without end.
R. Amen.
30 August 2024
Saved Through Childbearing
'There are economic and societal implications that accompany the mainstreaming of the childless life, of course. But there are spiritual ones as well.'
From Crisis
By Rob Marco, MA(Theol)
Children have a way of stretching you beyond what you think you can bear. They are both blessing and cross; joy you never thought you could experience and pain you wish you never did.
I’m not a sci-fi aficionado, but Alfonso Cuarón’s 2006 dystopian film Children of Men has been hitting close to home now—almost twenty years after its screen debut. Set in London in 2027, a worldwide infertility epidemic has prevented any new births from occurring for eighteen years, and humankind faces extinction. Refugees stream into the police state of Britain (the last stable government), and pro-immigrant underground resistance movements are working to advance their agenda.
Amid all this, the protagonist, a jaded civil servant named Theo, is kidnapped by the Resistance and forced to protect a young refugee named Kee, who is pregnant—the only woman in the world with child. The future of the human race depends on her giving birth, and Theo is sworn to protect her so that she is not co-opted by the government and stripped of her baby for political purposes.
It is a thought-provoking modern-day spin on the nativity narrative in Matthew’s and Luke’s Gospels: a young refugee finds herself miraculously with child. Her husband is sworn to protect her and her baby from an ill-willed king. They travel in secret. Wise men come from afar to behold the sight. The child born will be a savior to the world, to redeem mankind from death and destruction, all of which was foretold by the prophets.
A haunting line from the film comes from Kee’s midwife, reflecting on the beginning of the infertility crisis in 2009, when people stopped getting pregnant and giving birth. “As the sound of the playgrounds faded,” she said, “the despair set in. Very odd what happens in a world without children’s voices.”
It seems as if yesterday’s sci-fi is today’s reality show. Over 65 million lives and counting have been lost to abortion in the United States since Roe v. Wade in 1973—and more than 1.5 billion worldwide since 1980. We manufacture human life in test tubes, freeze or destroy embryos, bank sperm, and take a morning-after pill to terminate a pregnancy after contraception fails. Governments enact policies to limit children per household and force sterilization and abortions when citizens don’t comply, while black-market surrogacy is thriving.
Human life is commodified and exploited by merciless systems of production, and traditional nuclear families are in the minority. Meanwhile, Europe faces a population disaster due to plummeting birth rates, the economic implications of which are starting to be realized. We have taken human life for granted, and the piper expects to be paid.
After the Dobbs v. Jackson ruling, a recent study found that the rate of women 18 to 30 getting tubal ligations doubled in 16 months, while males getting vasectomies tripled. Unlike the pill or barrier contraceptive methods, these sterilizations are largely permanent. Teenagers and those in their twenties are making decisions to close the door on their fertility for good, and seemingly without remorse.
The trend of an intentionally chosen “child-free life” has correspondingly been on the rise as well, increasing ten percentage points from 2018 to 2023. Alarmingly, 57 percent of those surveyed in a 2023 Pew study stated that their reasons for choosing this lifestyle were that they “simply didn’t want kids.” Only 26 percent of adults surveyed said that having children was extremely or very important to live a fulfilling life. Most said that not having kids had made it easier for them to “afford the things they wanted, make time for their interests and save for the future.”
There are economic and societal implications that accompany the mainstreaming of the childless life, of course. But there are spiritual ones as well. If one were to scour the Christian Scriptures for the most triggering polemics to modern sensibilities, one may come up with a few choice verses: Romans 1:27 (“Men with men working that which is filthy”); Ephesians 5:22 (“Let women be subject to their husbands”); Matthew 19:24 (“A rich man shall hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven”).
But there is one underrated verse in Paul’s first letter to Timothy on par with the aforementioned that is sure to rile passions: “She [the woman] shall be saved through childbearing” (1 Timothy 2:15).
While Eve closed the door on grace in heeding the deceitful words of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, the sterilization was not irreversible. Yahweh could have struck her and her husband dead, but instead He subjects her to her husband’s power and ascribes sorrow to her conceptions (Genesis 3:16). St. John Chrysostom, in his Homilies on First Timothy, notes:
It is as if he [St. Paul] had said, You women, be not cast down, because your sex has incurred blame. God has granted you another opportunity of salvation, by the bringing up of children, so that you are saved, not only by yourselves, but by others. (9) What are we to make of Paul’s proscription—that only women who physically bring a child into the world will secure their eternal reward? Of course not. Not to be neglected is the continuation of verse 15, that women shall be saved through childbearing “if she continue in faith, and love, and sanctification, with sobriety.”
Children have a way of stretching you beyond what you think you can bear. They are both blessing and cross; joy you never thought you could experience and pain you wish you never did. They will nail your hands to a cross because they want a cookie and will make you hand them the mallet. Sometimes they are chosen, and sometimes they just come anyway. Paul was speaking plainly and in truth to Timothy: children will save you first, and then give hope to the rest of the human race, provided you actually do bear them. Children are your second chance: to learn the wager inherent in faith, the meaning in love, the pain in sanctification, and the clarity that comes with sobriety. Children are the subjects that become the teachers.
And that is my concern, from a spiritual perspective, for the intentionally child-free: that in preferencing “affording the things they want, making time for their interests, and saving for the future,” women (and men) forgoing children have listened to the serpent and chosen a wide path not leading to life. In giving preferential treatment to the self, rather than the other, one has “already received their reward.” The restaurant dinners, the vacations, the 401k balances then become like pillars of salt, cairns dotting the landscape of the dystopian future ushered in by the childless generation.
We will wonder why the path we traverse on the way to the grave has become so eerily quiet, so disturbingly orderly, so squeakily sterile, and so incredibly impoverished. When the despair sets in, it will be like a blanket of fresh January snow—soft, still, silent…like a muffled scream. “Yes,” we will say, “very odd what happens in a world without children’s voices.” Very odd indeed.
The Father’s Voice in Times of War
'Fathers are shaping the next generation. ... [T]hey are able to confront unspeakable horrors, preserve their children’s gift for innocent wonder, and guide them toward a worthy aim.'
From The European Conservative
By Darina Rebro, LLB, MA
A father’s presence, both physical and spiritual, is impossible to overestimate. This is especially apparent in times of war.
Last summer at one of Istanbul’s markets, I noticed a table with antique items. The Kurdish seller told of his goods: old postcards, bronze statues of elephants, lions, and horse riders, rare historical stamps from around the world and more. As I looked through the album I was suddenly struck by excitement. Among the postcards, there was one written from a father to his son and sent from Paris during World War I. In a matter of moments, the postcard had moved from the table to my backpack. Later that evening, I had the chance to examine it thoroughly, and doing so has helped me to understand the immense power fathers wield in periods of turmoil and death.
The postcard was dated October 6th, 1918. This was during the Hundred Days Offensive, a series of Allied onslaughts against the Germans from August 8th to November 11th, 1918, which marked the final push to end World War I. During this period, the Allies made significant advances against the Central Powers, culminating in the breaking of the Hindenburg line. By early October, the Allies had made substantial gains, including the breakthrough at the Second Battle of Cambrai on October 8th. The father who sent the postcard was likely navigating the turbulent final stages of the war while living through the epidemic of Spanish influenza in Paris.
It is also probable that this postcard was written by an English-speaking ally of the Entente (either an Englishman, Canadian, Australian, or New Zealander). His occupation could have been connected to anything from army service and medical work to diplomacy, journalism, or entrepreneurship. It is possible that by the time the child received the postcard, the war was already over. Whether the father’s stay in Paris was directly linked to the war or not, he was definitely influenced by it. There was a sense of grief for those who had died, hatred toward the enemy, fear for his life, uncertainty about the future, longing for his family, and angst at the prospect of never seeing them again.
In the midst of fumes of death, having woken to a new day of October 6th, he writes a brief letter to his son: “To my little burly Bobs. With Best Love and Kisses. From Dad. xxx.” He writes the letter on the postcard with a beautiful, colored image of a bouquet of flowers—and sends it.
The circumstances bring the letter into a different context. The message is brief, barely enough to learn of the man’s whereabouts, but enough for his family to sigh in relief—he is alive and well. The father reminds Bob of his strength; he is burly—large and strong! Yet still little, a spot of tender love in his father’s heart. He reminds little Bob of his love, kisses, and strong hugs. There is no war inside that embrace, just the smell of wood, iron, and sweat. The smell of confident serenity.
This confidence is hardly achieved. G.K. Chesterton once said: “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.” While patriotism and love for one’s nation are definitely factors that drive a man to leap into danger, the truest, most profound expression of love is towards his family. There is no horror as chilling as the thought of an armed enemy hurting your loved ones. There is no endurance as strong as the one that roots itself in the attachment to one’s own flesh and blood. This devotion overcomes a natural fear of death, suppresses the survival instinct, and teaches the mind to be cool in the heat of danger. And in the midst of distress, the father would still be able to support his burly Bob.
When the full-scale invasion of Russia into Ukraine started on February 24th, 2022, my father, a sonographer, was ordered along with his colleagues by the hospital administration not to leave their place of work. It was necessary because the government expected an influx of wounded people at any moment. As a result, my father lived in the hospital for 56 days, until the Russian army was pushed back from the Kyiv region. One of the first cases he handled was a woman who had been shot with a bullet in her hip, and after that, all the visits in his office blended into a kaleidoscope of lives directly or indirectly affected by war.
I visited my father a few times between curfews, while the noise of the siren pierced the sky, and occasional thumps of air defense hit the enemy’s targets overhead. We would savor the taste of freshly brewed coffee and talk of war, with the amalgam of caffeinated beans, cleaning detergent, and ultrasound gel scents in the air. When the enemy’s planes encircled Kyiv’s skyline, he would tell me of the valor of the Ghost of Kyiv, the collective image of the pilots of the 40th Tactical Aviation Brigade. When the Russian army was terrorizing our borders, he would describe to me the professionalism of our soldiers. When the face of Putin appeared in my imagination, he would remind me of the man’s mortality. And if my mind was still overburdened, he would brew another cup of coffee in the electric teapot and serve it with dried fruits.
His approach helped me, because I trusted his experience and judgment. Born in the USSR, he lived through the communist hellish ‘paradise’; observed Geiger counters go crazy during the Chernobyl reactor explosion; saw the end of the Soviet Union; lived through the economic collapse, the Orange Revolution, and Euromaidan; witnessed the beginning of war with Russia in 2014, and later the full-scale invasion of 2022; and still dared to make plans for the next Saturday to go to the theater! If he considered the art of Sholem Aleichem and Shakespeare worthy of traveling through the war-torn city, then there was definitely something to fight for. He could not stop the war from happening in his country, but he definitely tried to stop it from wreaking untold, irreparable damage on the minds of his daughters.
The minds of civilians are one of the main targets of the enemy. If they succeed in sowing fear and harvesting despair, then the war is all but won. With people distrusting the government and the army, there would be more protests and desertions, and above all—immobilizing pessimism, a cancerous tumor to any living hope. It prompted many defenders to hide their fear in the prayer room and tame their trembling voices. They joke while heating up military rations, exchanging news, training in how to use new equipment, and talking to their kids on FaceTime.
“When kids see that you are somehow holding on, they do too,” came the reassuring words of Gennadiy Mokhnenko, a military chaplain, pastor, and father of 41 (mostly adopted) children. “They imitate us. When they see our fears, they are afraid too. When they see Dad’s smile and cheerful words, then they do not give up. When they see that our hands fall and our hearts tremble, then they too are afraid.” Pastor Gennadiy fought many battles against death, rescuing the kids from its grasp. Back when Mariupol was free from occupants, he would go with the team climbing in the pits and under pipes looking for kids who were homeless and addicted to drugs. Under the roof of his Republic Pilgrim, many little souls received a second chance in life, while some relapsed and had their lives cut short. When Russia struck the city twice in 2014 and 2022, his team labored to evacuate children from imminent danger. Still today they are helping orphans and families in close proximity to the battleground move to safety, while providing humanitarian aid to locals and sharing the Gospel with the defenders.
Once, they went to evacuate a group of terrified children from one of the orphanages, while the Russian tanks were approaching the same location. When they were in the bombshelter and the noise outside was deafening, Mokhnenko loudly said: “Listen to me! The order has been given for Ukraine: lift up your noses! Everything will be fine! Ukraine will win! Now, how many push ups can you do?” It took just a couple of minutes, after which the kids loosened up and started to push up one after another, screaming: “I can do ten!” “I can do thirty!” The humor of the game helped them forget about the peril they were in.
When asked about the role of fathers during the crisis, Mokhnenko said: “Most of the atmosphere in the family depends on the father. If he keeps a positive mood, then the whole family will be ignited with positivity—wife and children. And if a man quakes in his boots, then everything will turn sour.” To explain what he means, the pastor said that the parent, either mother or father, is like a lead pilot helping a co-pilot to train. During the first flight, a co-pilot might often become disoriented during challenging situations and so, until he is trained, he cannot take full control of the aircraft. The time of war brings the ‘aircraft’ of life into many challenging situations, and kids often lose the ability to think clearly. If a parent chooses to abandon the cockpit or panics, the child will face the danger beyond his strength all alone.
Now, let’s say that the father of burly Bob decided not to send him a postcard from war-torn France. He forgot. He deemed it useless. He was too busy. He did not care. A little boy somewhere in the world would fall into thickets of hopeless imagination. He would grieve the possible reality of never seeing his father again or seeing him irreversibly changed by war. The dark fog of uncertainty would blind his eyes to see the beauty of small things: a colorful kite his uncle brought, steam rising from the freshly cooked brownie, a wagging tail of a spaniel, a perfectly round stone on the bottom of the bubbling stream. Reality for Bob—or rather, his perception of reality—would be determined by his mother’s hope and tears, the gossip of the neighbors, and theories of his peers as to when and how the war will end. Bob would often look down the road, where he saw his father last time, and every shadow resembling his dad would make his heart beat faster and faster, while suddenly dropping—and arms would fall to his sides, while his foot would angrily kick a stone on its way.
A father’s presence, both physical and spiritual, is impossible to overestimate. That letter from France, in the familiar handwriting of his Dad’s marbled hand, was an imaginative bridge to Bob from the dry land of despair to a promised land. A place where his youth would be protected, his explorative passions encouraged, and his masculinity shaped by the brave example of an experienced man.
The 1997 film Life is Beautiful masterfully shows the importance of fathers in times of calamity. Starring Roberto Benigni as the father, it depicts World War II, when the genocidal will of the Nazis swept over Europe, rounding up Jews into extermination camps to be exploited and killed. Guido, his wife, and their 5-year-old son Giosuè end up in one of the camps, unable to escape. To protect his son, both mentally and physically, Guido devises a plan. At one point, German officers come into the barracks demanding if any of the prisoners can translate from German to Italian. Guido volunteers, despite not speaking German. Standing in front of the prisoners—among whom is his little son—he begins to translate the officer’s instructions into his own version. “The game starts now!” he announces after the officer’s first instruction to the prisoners. “You have to score one thousand points. If you do that, you’ll take home a tank with a big gun. Each day, we will announce the scores from that loudspeaker. The one who has the fewest points will have to wear a sign that says ‘Jackass’ on his back. There are three ways to lose points. One: turning into a big crybaby. Two: telling us you want to see your mommy. Three: saying you’re hungry and want something to eat.”
Guido maintains this game for his son throughout their time in the concentration camp, despite the horrors surrounding them. At one point, when Giosuè hears that the Nazis burn some prisoners and make buttons and soap from others, the father loses composure for a moment. However, he quickly recovers and says, “You fell for that? Again? I thought you were a sharp boy … cunning and intelligent. Buttons and soap made out of people? That’ll be the day! You believed that? Ha-ha-ha! Just imagine. Tomorrow morning, I’ll wash my hands with Bartolomeo … a good scrub. Then I’ll button up with Francesco …” Then he pretends to unbutton his shirt and one of the buttons falls off. “Look!” he says, pretending to laugh, “I just lost Giorgio.” In a place daily visited by death, a gentle giggle from Giosuè broke through the clouds of fear.
Guido had no power over the will of the Führer. He couldn’t erase his Jewish identity or defend himself against the armored soldiers. However, he had another moment, another opportunity to influence his family’s reality. Even surrounded by the gas chambers, his son was safely hiding to gain points for the “game.” While other women grieved over their relatives, he found a way to reassure his wife that they were alive with the iconic “Buongiorno principessa!” Despite having no control over external circumstances, Guido asserted control over what was in front of him: his son’s trust and the power of words. He faced the imminent reality of death, calmed his fearful heart, and created a different, joyous reality for his little boy.
The Psalmist compares children to a quiver of arrows in the hands of a warrior. Properly aimed, an arrow will hit its target, bringing the desired result to the archer. However, placed in trembling hands, it will miss, flying chaotically. The example of fathers during times of calamity is similar to that archer. They can choose to surrender to fear, dragging their family down with them, or stand strong in the face of adversity. Just as the father sent his postcard to little burly Bob during World War I, as my father brewed coffee under the shelling, as Pastor Mokhnenko created a game for kids in the bomb shelter, and Guido created a game for his son in the extermination camps, today’s fathers are shaping the next generation. United in will and vision with their wives, they are able to confront unspeakable horrors, preserve their children’s gift for innocent wonder, and guide them toward a worthy aim.
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