Chateau Lloyd

Almost exactly three years ago, I noted that far from being a source of reconciliation and healing, the Eastern Orthodox churches in Ukraine and Russia were instead adding fuel to the fire.  The entire Eastern Orthodox communion has been riven asunder over the issue, with anathemas for everyone.

I mentioned this in the context of the Lord of Spirits podcast, which was hosted by two Eastern Orthodox priests.  I enjoyed it because Orthodox and Catholic beliefs regarding the spirit world are essentially identical, which is why Eastern Rite Catholics exist.  As it turned, out, the show eventually went full anti-Catholic, which was a shame, but also somewhat inevitable given the mentality of many Eastern Orthodox practitioners. 

It is all well and good to snipe at the Catholic Church and its many failings, but here again we have the classic example of ignoring the log in one's own eye.  The Orthodox Communion is a mess.  First Things has a good overview of where things are today, but it does not do the debacle full justice because it leaves out the reactions of the various other Patriarchies.  The author correctly notes that for various historic reasons, Orthodoxy has divided on national lines, creating a fusion of faith and ethnicity that is a clear obstacle to Christian unity.

Before the conflict, the Ukrainians were part of the Patriarchate of Moscow, which could have been a vehicle for reconciliation.  Instead, there are now two Ukrainian Orthodox Churches, and both have split from Moscow, though the one still insists in being in communion with her Slavic brothers.  One church has become three and the various members freely harass, attack and imprison the clergy of the others.

The other problem Eastern Orthodoxy faces is expanding the faith.  There is no systemic way for the communion as a whole to do this, and so we get grab-bags of ethnic churches competing with one another, setting up parishes, organizing provinces without any sort of plan.  The Patriarchate of Moscow not long announced that it was going to set up missions in Africa, which was a blatant infringement on the Patriarch of Alexandria, which has an ancient claim to the continent.

Who will referee this?  Not Constantinople.  The Ecumenical Patriarch might not survive much longer under an increasingly Islamic-focused Turkish government.  The sultans needed the Patriarch to manage the Christian millet, but there are so few Christians left and this is no longer necessary.

All of which is to say that everyone's got problems.  

The big hope for 2025 is an end to the East-West Schism, which could also heal the fissures in Eastern Orthodoxy.  This is why the pope exists - to be a focal point of unity backed by the Magisterium of the Church.

Francis has been quite the autocrat, especially in the last few years, deposing bishops and attacking the sovereign status of the Knights of Malta, and as a result, the next pope may be more interested in making the limits of papal power clear - particularly if it can heal the Great Schism.

The most rapidly growing religious group in the US is the "nones," that is, people who have no formal religious affiliation.  Many identify themselves as "spiritual, but not religious" and I was once one of them.

Crisis Magazine has something of a deep dive on what Nones believe and what they practice.

In many ways, they are the heirs of America's fragmented Protestant heritage, which hold that each person can have their own interpretation of the Bible, and refuses to acknowledge any other religious authority.  It is a very American approach to faith.

I think it is also an outgrowth of the mainstreaming of role playing games like Dungeons and Dragons, which pushed the notion that people would be judged not by the good or evil of their actions, but whether they followed the faith of their choice.  Thus, worshippers of Zeus would be judged on their terms, Muslims on theirs, and Christians theirs.

This neatly side-stepped the issue of whether there was one true God and also the consequences of ignoring Him.  If you identify as a neo-pagan or Wiccan, well then that is how your fate after death will be determined.

Alas, the world doesn't quite work that way, and while you may not be interested in the devil, the devil is very much interested and you.  There are many accounts in the exorcism community of how New Age or neopagans ended up opening doors that were better left closed.

There is also the fact that such beliefs rarely provide a sturdy foundation for success in this world, let alone the next.   While there are indeed plenty of observant Christians who are also screw-ups, the fact is that there are vanishingly few Nones that seem to be happy and/or stable.  I know several that have found material prosperity, but they remain mired in a worldview that keeps them perpetually aggrieved and/or distracted.  

They also tend to divorce a lot.

I think a big part of this is the hubris of someone deciding that all of the other traditions are flawed or incorrect, and that they can achieve something just as good or better based on their own wits and insight.  What actually happens is that they entrench their sins as virtues.

This also leads to Yard Sign Calvinism, performative virtue-signaling where intentions matter more than results.

The only positive element of this is that by acknowledging the possibility of a spirit world, the Nones have a decent chance of finding their way back to the true faith.  

I think it is essential that Catholics especially use a soft touch with these folks, inviting them rather than hectoring them, as Protestants often do.  Above all things, though, there must also be a willingness to speak clearly.  "Nice" Christianity is a dead end.

At this point, most of the Episcopal Church seems to be engaged in some sort of virtue-signaling performance art.  God is at best a tertiary concern, something to be invoked for moral authority, but never a primary concern.

How else to explain the bizarre case of an Anglican Priest withholding the Eucharist until his social justice demands are met?

There are lots of ways to look at this nonsense, but the core problem is that the cleric has a very flawed understanding of salvation and the sacraments.  In orthodox Christianity, there is no collective guilt.  One cannot punish Peter for the sins of Paul.  The whole point of Reconciliation is to receive a personal absolution, and the Eucharist is likewise administered on an individual basis.

To pretend otherwise is to eliminate any motivation for personal holiness, and destroy the hope of salvation.  

Yet this is where we are, because the progressive politics exist to condemn rather than convert.

A couple of years ago I wrote about the national forgiveness deficit, and this is a great example of how it has infiltrated Christianity.  The punishment is increasingly more important than the salvation.

Because that is really what faith is supposed to be about.  This deranged cleric probably thinks he's being very saintly in some way, forcing the world to confront evil, but he's just preening about keeping people from God.  Instead of being an intercessor he's become and interceptor, blocking Communion until his personal demands are met.  His flock's salvation is being held for ransom, and it speaks volumes that his pathetic leadership can't managed to come to a decision after almost three years.

This is Dead-End Christianity, a faith that leads to nowhere.  No conversion, no salvation, just preening and appealing to the Spirit of the Age.  It cannot go away fast enough.

I'm old enough to view the outcomes of political elections as highly overblown.  Most of my adult life has been spent hearing how each election is the last off-ramp from tyranny, a point of no return for democracy or freedom or whatnot.

In the case of the past year, it has already been proven correct.  A great spiritual cleansing has taken place and people of goodwill have felt the lifting of a great burden, precisely in the manner described in our Advent readings.  The majority of Americans had been conditioned to believe that they were a tiny minority, and the Arc of History was going to see them crushed to powder.

That was proven false, and as the days passed, it has been interesting to see the preference cascade as defectors flee the ranks of the woke, either out of relief or fear of retaliation.

A year ago I wrote that 2023 was about "tidying up," finishing things off from the previous years.  I think 2024 finally saw forward progress in multiple ways, and the coming year promises even more positive changes.  In retrospect, I was perhaps unduly pessimistic in my take on politics, but my final thought was spot on: putting more trust in God and his mercy has paid rich rewards.

The last few months in particular has seen renewed friendships, healed relationships and the prospects for personal growth open up.  There is still much to be done, but I approach the new year with a confidence that has been sorely lacking of late.

Americans are uniquely troubled by having too much stuff.  By the time we reach old age, we can be buried with a lifetime's worth of purchases.

At the very least, this creates a burden on those who inherit the estate, because instead of wealth, they are mostly bequeathed significant logistical problems.

De-cluttering - the removal of surplus items - can be a timely solution and both of my grandparents practiced this long before the term came into being.  They sold their houses and distributed most of their personal property before settling into more modest dwellings.  This removed many of the potential disputes over who should get what, and made the final distribution of property something of an afterthought, since instead of a multi-bedroom home with 3,000+ square feet, a garage and a full basement, the family only had to deal with a small apartment's worth of good.

Alas, not everyone has the time for foresight to do this.

That is where I find myself, helping a parent who has lots of stuff part with it and doing so in a gradual matter.

Is it a corporal act of mercy, or merely an act of charity?  Perhaps filial piety?  It's hard to say.  On the one hand, opening up more room and re-creating a sense of orderly space is definitely a bonus.  However, this is not entirely altruistic - the cleaning now will reap benefits later, and some of the items can either be sold, or will allow what they replace (say, furniture) to be sold.

The ideal solution would be split the proceeds, and I have done that with other elder relations.  But some people can't bear to sell off their stuff, but they can give it to family.  What happens later is out of sight, out of mind.

And of course giving monetary gifts will only result in new clutter.

I'm thinking the best option is to make use of it for a while, and document this in some way - photographing the stuff in its new setting, showing people enjoying it, which then validates the decision to let it go.

I suppose it could also count as "visiting the sick," since there does seem to be a psychological element to this.  If it gets out of hand, other risks emerge, such as vermin or mold, or even the piles collapsing.  Certainly it inhibits mobility and the loss of exercise can accelerate physical and mental decline.

However one defines it, it is a good thing, and time well spent.

The spiritual victory delivered in November continues to produce visible effects in the material world.  The latest example has been an outpouring of Christmas greetings in my area.  Whereas people once chose the safe, vague "Happy Holidays," now those who offer it get a rousing "Merry Christmas," in return, which they enthusiastically repeat.

At every venue, every interaction, this is the norm rather than the exception.  It is almost a code word for defiant, resurgent faith.

Chateau Lloyd remained busy up until Christmas Day, when things calmed down and we spent much of the time eating, napping, and getting ready to eat, and then napping after we were done.  Truly a feast day for the ages.

The Children's Mass on Christmas Eve was packed as usual, and the student choir was excellent.  The mood could only be described as joyous.  

This is as it should be, and the bad memories of 2020 are quickly fading in the face of boisterous children with no memory of it, only the natural energy of youth.

In other news, the tide has turned decisively against my contention that Die Hard is not a Christmas movie.  Oh well.  I will stand my ground.

The restoration of Notre Dame Cathedral is a marvelous thing.  How encouraging to see world leaders visiting a sacred Christian space and treating it with such respect?

This goes beyond political pleasantries or diplomatic protocols - the cathedral is itself beautiful.  I have never seen it, but I recall being moved to tears by the beauty of the Dom in Trier.

When I was younger, I partly bought into the Protestant argument that golden chalices and detailed artwork were a form of idolatry, and that money spent on architecture was better used to feed the poor.  

Then I grew up.  I realized that faith is a not a zero-sum game, and that money spent on religious art actually can increase giving the poor because it touches the heart, and moves people to acts of charity.

These thoughts returned to me some months ago, when I attended a friend's funeral at a rural Baptist church. The building was purely utilitarian, the fit and finish were right in line with any other institution.  Other than the cross on the far wall, the main space could have been confused for a hotel conference room, which even had a projection screen.  The entire laying was sterile, reminiscent of a public school auditorium.  There was nothing to elevate, or inspire.  The service itself was something of a variety show, with the pastor sitting like Johnny Carson off to one side as the acts performed.

Returning to my parish, I gratefully took in the various images and icons, the Stations of the Cross carvings, chapel and various grottos for private devotions.  I should add that as far as Catholic church buildings go, my parish is actually pretty modern, having been built in 1957 in a college town, so it has many mid-century flourishes and the seating forms a semi-circle, rather than the traditional cruciform aisles.

Still, when the there are slow moments, I am comforted by those images, which help keep my mind on task.  I also think of the artisans responsible for the work, and the satisfaction they no doubt derive from glorifying God.

That's the larger point - if we view religious art as decadent and wasteful, we will have only secular art, which is far more vulgar and typically points to sin.  Is it not better to have talented painters evoke salvation history or should they go for the make their money in pornography?

One of the greatest negative outcomes of Vatican II was the destruction of so much religious art.  Our cathedral is currently undertaking a massive restoration project to undo the damage wrought on it by the reformers.  Vivid murals were simply painted over and the building was given a white, sterile appearance.  Nothing to elevate or inspire.  It looked Protestant.  I can understand why people would have left the Church upon seeing that - and I can also see how people might consider conversion when beholding the meticulous devotion and financial investment in sacred beauty.

This power was celebrated by G.K. Chesterton and Evelyn Waugh, who already seeing the destructive hand a modernism calling for new "efficiencies."

I'm sure they would loathe what passes for Protestant religious art, which is either abstract or kitchy and saccharine and self-indulgent.  I'm thinking specifically of soft-focus portraits of Christ, making him look more like a 1970s hippie musician than the Savior.  I suppose it's an outgrowth of the "personal savior" motif and as such He's more of a boyfriend or pal than the Son of Man.

Of course, a recurring Protestant criticism of religious art is that its somehow idolatry, which is patently absurd.  No one is offering sacrifice to the images, or attempting to trap a deity within a sacred statue.  Icons are what they appear to be - images that help center our thought on God.   What better way to contemplate the sacred mysteries than by gazing on an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe?

That's another element - much of the art has historic value, and when we look at it, we see how our forefathers perceived God and salvation history.  This in turn points us to seeking the wisdom of the Church Fathers and the writings and acts of the saints.  Archeology confirms that sacred art has always been used in both Judaism and Christianity.  That modern variants of the two have turned their backs on it only underlines how out of the orthodox traditions they have become.

Last week Carl Trueman, a frequent contributor to First Things, posed an online essay explaining why he is not a Catholic.

If you are a subscriber, you can read my reply on the site, which pointed out that becoming Catholic is often a strugged between one's beliefs and accepting the fact that others may actually know more about the faith.  I specifically mentioned John Henry Newman, G.K. Chesterton and Evelyn Waugh as people who possessed far more knowledge than I, and in a context of wisdom, their combined insight was more than a match for mine.

I also that a lot of objections to the Church center on vanity; whether it is good enough as opposed to being valid, and that for many Americans, faith is much like picking out a car - you try the find the one that best suits you.

However, having read other responses (and re-read Trueman), I've noticed that the vast majority of his essay isn't about the lineage of the Church, the wisdom of the Church Fathers, the validity of the sacraments, etc., it's most about a personal dislike of the pope and a disdain for the veneration accorded the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Protestant really seem to have a particular hate for Our Lady, and I'm not sure why.  I freely admit that it took me time to get used to Marian prayers, but that was simply because I wasn't very well churched.  In time, I realized just how important a figure the BVM is in salvation history.  

She's not a rebranded Venus, but a figure foretold in the Old Testament and brought into fruition in the New.  I think a lot of Protestants know what they have said about Her, and it would be tough climb down to take all that back.

But the larger issue is clearly the pope, and I think this is not because of arcane arguments about the sweep of papal authority, or his role in the Magisterium, the relative precedence among bishops and patriarchs, but instead Protestantism's unique focus on the holiness of the individual ministers.

For Protestants, ministry is a unique, individual calling, which is why you have major figures emerge like Billy Graham.  Their personal charisma is the proof of their divine sanction.  In addition to living an upright life, they have to deliver inspiring sermons and constantly preach with confidence as this shows that they have "the spirit within them."  Because there is no apostolic succession, no sacrament of ordination,  or even sacraments at all, personal charm is all that Protestants can fall back on.

One need not even be formally educated to preach and develop a following.  Indeed, such figures are often treated far better than those with doctorates in theology because they are more "authentic."  Thus,  it may be difficult for someone like Trueman to understand that Catholic clergy can vary greatly in their personalities, knowledge and holiness, but their sacraments are all just as valid.

It also bears mentioning that Catholics have a different understanding of suffering and humiliation.  I see Francis not as the pope we wanted, but the one we needed.  He has done more to expose the corruption of the church than anyone else.  His flirtations with heresy have reinforced the importance of the Magisterium in Church doctrine, demonstrating that the pope cannot simply wake up one day and redefine dogma.

Protestants really seem to believe this, in part because in their churches, it's absolutely the case.  Time and again, we have seen televangelists and mega-churches riven asunder in personal and family disputes.  The assumption clearly is that Francis is the harbinger of some terrible liberal Catholic future.

In reality, he's likely to be the ignoble last gasp of liberal Catholicism.    As I've noted before, the seminaries are packed with very orthodox young men.  Francis imagines himself the future, but he is part of a fleeting movement that is already fading into the past.

Trueman does not understand this, and it diminishes his stature, which is unfortunate, as he does have some keen insights into the weakness of Protestantism.  As in so many other cases, his pride seems greater than his wisdom.

Yesterday I attempted to finish off the Christmas shopping as well as top off our household supplies.  This is a regular routine, almost always taken at the same time of day at the same places.

Yet the feeling was very different.  People just wanted to talk, strangers waving to strangers, the check-out clerks were cheerful, and I didn't go from store to store so much as from conversation to conversation.  I think it added an hour to my errands, but I didn't notice it.

I mentioned this to my daughter, who said she was observing the same thing while out and about.  She attributed it to the election.  "Normal people have realized that they are actual the majority, and don't have to be afraid anymore.  I haven't had a single person say 'Happy Holidays,' it's all 'Merry Christmas!'"

I think that a spiritual oppression has been lifted, and this is how most people (who still see the world in secular materialist ways) are responding the only way they know how - by being more friendly and outgoing.

One of the many sacrifices of Lent is the practice of praying only the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary.  I like the variety, and freely admit that because I know Lent will be all-Sorrowful-all the time, I tend to shy away from Fridays just for the sake of variety.

Today on Aleteia, I saw a fun suggestion that one should say the Joyful Mysteries during Advent.  I don't get many opportunities to say these as Mondays and Saturdays are busy days for me, but today I set aside the Glorious Mysteries and enjoyed the experience.  

Something I've learned over the years is that prayer is something you should do, but be careful that you don't push yourself too hard into it, lest it become a chore or a burden.  I typically say a Rosary a week, but sometimes I will do more if the spirit takes me.

My prayer life is becoming deeper, but here again, I try not to force the issue but instead let myself be drawn deeper into it.

If I have learned anything over the years, it is that while discipline is important, one can compel affection or order someone (including yourself) to feel a certain way.  A better way is to set the table for good feelings - faith - love - to emerge and then enjoy them without trying to stretch them too far.

And yes changing things up keeps it all interesting.  Going to Mass on Monday was a delight, in large part because the parish students are so endearing when they belt out the hymns at the top of their lungs.

I guess it's a fine line between the satisfaction of meeting ones obligations and going beyond now and again because you feel like it.