Fr. James V. Schall, S.J., died in April earlier this year at the age of 91. He was one of those remarkable old Jesuits who joined the Order before the time of rebellion. There are some like him left, and I have been fortunate to know a few. Recently, Fr. “Z.” (Zuhlsdorf) pondered how horrid a victory hell had with the corruption of the Society of Jesus, echoing ancient Latin wisdom, corruptio optimi pessima. It has been a profound loss, and it sickens and angers me to see the Order’s universities decay into soul-perverting whorehouses of ugliness and irrationality.
When I visited Rome, I knew that I had to visit the Chiesa del Gesù, the Jesuits’ mother church. I walked around, paid my respects to the relics, and waited to witness the show in the Ignatian chapel. A young novice struck up a conversation with me and learnt that I was Jesuit-educated. He then took me on a private tour of the Collegio del Gesù, including the historic rooms where Ignatius lived, prayed, and wrote. I hope that the fellow and his cohorts eventually restore the Society to its former sanity. For Christians, there is always hope (even for Jesuits).
Below, you may watch Fr. Schall’s final lecture at Georgetown University on the occasion of his retirement, titled “The Final Gladness” after a passage from Belloc. Listening to Fr. Schall reminds me how grateful I am of my own Jesuit education . . . and how I wish that such opportunity endure for future students whose souls spark with wonder.
May his memory be eternal!
As I was rebuilding a pond wall today, I thought of another element behind why many people hate Trump so much—so much more than we should expect in reaction to his actual governing. We know that many folks find him distasteful and lacking in class. Sure, but why would that trigger such hatred—why not simply some eye rolling and dismissive remarks? It then struck me that these people find Trump guilty of sacrilege; he has committed abomination in his presidential duties. Leftists in general and some patriotic Americans on the right understand democratic politics in a religious, sacrosanct way. So, when Trump scandalizes them by boorish behavior mixed with politics, he commits acts that merit a good burning at the stake. Many (most?) American right-wingers (correctly) see democratic politics as a circus, and we delight when the clowns drop the pretense and act the part. For the people who see the Popular Will as the closest thing to a divine instrument that they can imagine, however, Trump is a blasphemer and a heretic. Let him be anathema!
In Crisis Magazine, Anthony Esolen has responded to James Martin, S.J. of America Magazine and to his pontifical attempts to ferry Sodom across the Tiber. I recommend his jeremiad, “Open Your Eyes, Father Martin.” Esolen is always worth reading, and this rebuke serves as a suitable brevem coram Deo against the Sexual Revolution.
Greetings and happy summertime! I have not written lately, but be assured that my fingernails are black with fine dirt as I toil the soil. Well, that is fantasy. They are actually encrusted with clay, but let me indulge my fancy in pretending that my little plot of heaven consists of easy loam.
I was moved to share John C. Wright’s post today about his son’s experience of injustice by possessed leftists: “In Small and in Large.” Readers of a thumotic bent will feed their inner lions, no doubt. I have read Mr. Wright’s blog since I first heard him at Doxacon not that many years ago. You may read about my enthusiastic discovery of this fine chap and his wife in my review of the convention, “Doxacon Eidomenos.” I wish the young Wright all the best, and I am saddened to think about how many millions of children undergo similar unpleasantries these days across the West. Social injustice is a mighty factory for nascent reactionaries.
Over the past decade, I feel as though I have come to understand the Weimar Republic and how its social decay facilitated the rise of the Third Reich. As I have written before, these fools have no idea of the crop they are sowing—and it will be far more terrible, I fear, than what happened in the 1930s. The National Socialists took advantage of decent Germans’ disgust at what had befallen their homeland, and they were somewhat restrained by a highly civilized and moral population. Imagine what an opportunist could do today with the savage post-Christian masses and the frighteningly more powerful state made possible by technological advances. Widespread, profound repentance—or a catastrophe that forces us to change—is the only thing that will keep the perverse pendulum of human stupidity from swinging wildly again in our unregulated age. Dies veniet.
I hope that you are having a beneficial Lenten period. Myself, I love this time of year. The weather and landscape are not yet consistently pleasant, but the spring breeze carries with it the promise of approaching joy. It is like one’s last day of work or class before a vacation—the entire trip awaits, and there isn’t any thought to how much time remains until one returns to the everyday grind.
Today is the fourth anniversary of Lawrence Auster’s death. I often wonder what he would have written about the passing scene. How would he have commented on the presidential campaign? And on Trump? One of Auster’s chief public policy interests—the West’s transformation due to Third World immigration—has finally entered the public debate . . . decades after he published The Path to National Suicide: An Essay on Immigration and Multiculturalism. How would he have responded to this rise in awareness—and to Merkel’s disastrous handling of Europe’s invasion, which, as the expression goes, alerted the frog that it was being boiled alive? Would his opinion of Ann Coulter have improved given her championing the cause? What would the latter day convert to the Roman communion have had to say about Francis? Would he have seen a spark of vitality in the “dead isle” after the Brexit vote? It’s a pity (for us) that we haven’t been able to read his daily miscellany of insights into life and philippics against the abominations of the age—along with occasional curmudgeonly complaints about public figures. Memory eternal!
This week has been interesting. I have supported Trump as president since the very beginning. To quote Ann Coulter, he had me at “Mexican rapist.” Of course, Trump is far from ideal, but what can we expect in a democratic regime? Nonetheless, the widespread reaction from many of my fellow citizens to the future Trump administration has given me pause.
Since Wednesday morning, I have been reading editorials claiming that the new Trumpenreich will involve American Cossacks (rednecks, I suppose) knocking on the doors of “globalists” in the middle of the night and whisking them off to internment camps in Idaho, rounding up and frog marching (or shall we say, “Pepe skipping”) illegal aliens to the Rio Grande, thenceforth banishing them from the land of the free and the home of the brave, and handing over every public institution of advanced learning to the local chapter of the John Birch Society to clean out the tenured progressives (pinkos) and to reform the curriculum to celebrate the oppressive white patriarchy (Western Civ.). Some immigrants of color worry about the closing of mosques or at least their infiltration by federal counter-terrorism intelligence. Hollywood celebrities opine that Trump’s immigration policies might be covertly designed to Make America White Again. Obese womyn in leather with facial and skin mutilations and unnaturally colored cropped hair croak about how Trump will roll back feminist gains and reinstate a 1950s Donna Reed nightmare—unadulterated image of rape culture and misogyny that she was.
Reflecting upon their concerns and anticipations, and then rationally considering the openly stated goals and highly probable actions of Trump’s administration, I find myself feeling dispirited about the huge disconnect. Yet, we must not allow the perfect to be the enemy of the good. So, I wish Trump all the best. Even if he cannot be the American Pinochet, or even the Yankee Salazar, he may begin the project of destroying Americans’ leftist shackles. Godspeed, Mr. Trump.
Should anyone else feel the blues coming on for similar reasons, it might be therapeutic to fantasize about DJT’s handling of the media as depicted in “A Canard of a Crusade.”
O there was joy throughout the land,
And all the court was filled with glee;
The Knight has caught the Nightingale,
That dwelt within the linden tree.
I hope that you are enjoying a lovely October.
Public affairs in our degenerate society are cause for dismay, but I read a stirring account today of what the men of the West can be in “The Siege of Sziget, 1566” on Nobility.org. I was previously ignorant of this battle. In 1566, Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent (whose lovely Süleymaniye mosque I visited in Constantinople) set off to settle political matters in Hungary, during which campaign the Croatian noble Nikola Šubić Zrinski caused him some annoyance. To deal with Zrinski and to open a path to Vienna, Suleiman directed his massive 100,000+ man army to take the towns and fortress of Szigetvár, defended by Zrinski and only a few thousand Hungarian and Croatian men. Zrinski’s forces defended the fortress for over a month. On the night before the final assault, the sultan died (of natural causes) and never saw the castle taken. The following day—the last day of the seige—when the Ottomans were about to break through, Zrinski opened the gates, mortared the Turkish forces, and charged. Zrinski died during this counterstrike, and the Turks overtook the castle. However, Zrinski had prepared the castle as a trap, having instructed his men to blow up the place by lighting the gunpowder stores once the Turks had invaded. And so it happened.
Read the linked account or look up other articles about the siege. The story is so wonderfully heroic that I doubted its veracity, but it appears to be true. The episode had to have served as an inspiration for the defense of Helm’s Deep—either for Tolkien in the original or for Jackson’s interpreting the story on film. Superb. Ban Zrinski, may his memory be eternal.
By the way, the Süleymaniye mosque was completed the following year, and the great sultan never beheld it in its full splendor. Of course, I cheer for the Christian defenders of Europe, and I would gladly see the old imperial capital returned to Christendom, with majestic liturgies served in the Church of Holy Wisdom and an Orthodox emperor on the throne, but I still acknowledge the merits of the Ottoman Empire. We expect the Persians to maintain an impressive civilization, even under the Mohammedan yoke, because that is what they have always done. The Turks, however, went from being martial nomads to creating one of history’s high culture civilizations. Yes, yes, they conquered more culturally advanced folks and adopted their ways—but they did adopt their ways. The Ottomans employed Greek Christians in Anatolia, whereas more savage tribes would have slit their throats. Quite in contrast to the idiocy that we sometimes hear today, cultural appropriation is commendable when men improve themselves by learning the knowledge of others. Anyway, kudos all around in this story—awe inspiring bravery by Zrinski and his men and the impressive ambition and alexandrine vision of Suleiman.
The formidable friend of the Good and defender of good sense, Phyllis Stewart Schlafly, died yesterday. May her memory be eternal!
Ann Coulter has a lovely obituary to honor that fine American woman: “Phyllis Stewart Schlafly, 1924-2016.”
Steve Sailer’s commentators have recently offered a few aphoristic gems from the Colombian intellectual Nicolás Gómez Dávila, to which I have added some worthies:
In philosophy, a single naive question oftentimes suffices for the whole system to collapse.
The cause of democracy’s stupidities is confidence in the anonymous citizen; and the cause of its crimes is the anonymous citizen’s confidence in himself.
Being a reactionary is not about believing in certain solutions, but about having an acute sense of the complexity of the problems.
I distrust every idea that doesn’t seem obsolete and grotesque to my contemporaries.
For the progressive modernist, nostalgia is the supreme heresy.
The intelligent man quickly reaches reactionary conclusions. Today, however, the universal consensus of fools turns him into a coward. When they interrogate him in public, he denies being a Galilean.
Nothing is more dangerous than to solve ephemeral problems with permanent solutions.
Modern persons believe that they live in a plurality of opinions, whereas in fact what reigns today is an asphyxiating unanimity.
Stupidity appropriates with a diabolical ease whatever science invents.
In augmenting its power, humanity is multiplying its own servitudes.
The much celebrated “dominion of man over nature” resulted simply in an immense homicidal capacity.
The anarchy that threatens a degrading society is not its punishment, but its remedy.
Modern society works fervently to put vulgarity within the reach of everyone.
A simple fit of impatience often soon bridges the distance between utopia and murder.
Modernist mentality is the daughter of human conceit inflated by commercial propaganda.
Many love humanity only in order to forget God with a clear conscience.
Rather timely untimely observations, no?