Tag Archives: fiction

Wednesday: Holy Week

31 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by in Early Church, Easter, Faith, fiction, Lent

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Today was a relatively quiet day in Jerusalem all those years ago – the major event we still recognize was that Judas Iscariot met with the Jewish leaders and received his 30 pieces of silver. But why? We’ll look at that tomorrow.

Today on Neo, there is a new post by Jessica, one of her series of historical fiction speculating about the life of Mary Magdalene. She wrote it last fall ane I saved it for Holy Week. It is, I think, one of the best posts she ever wrote, so I’m going to cheat a bit and post it here as well. Do reflect carefully on what she says ere, an excellent guide for us all. Here, from my dearest friend.

A Harlot’s Way: 5 The Cross

I have tried three times to write this.I can’t. I told Luke what he wanted to know. I am told Matthew and Mark have written an account of that awful day. If John would write it then maybe, in his hands, it could lift you up – of us all, he is the true mystic. But John is long gone, I heard of him last in Ephesus, and the Romans have killed so many of us. Here, where I am, on the very outskirts of Empire, we may be safe, but one never knows – and if it be His will that we should die for him, we shall. None of which helps me with what happened after I anointed the feet of Jesus.

If this is ever read it will be by people who know the story: the entry into Jerusalem; that last supper; the agony in Gethsemane; the farce of a trial; the cruel death; the blackest despair. All made bearable by what happened next. Indeed, only what happened next makes sense of it, but in that making sense, we risk losing something – that is the sacrifice Jesus made. It isn’t as though he did not have a choice. He need not have gone to Jerusalem for the Passover. He need not have done what he did in the Temple. At that last supper, he could have slipped out as Judas did. There were those at Gethsemane who would have fought to keep him safe. It is the fact that there were those options – and that he did not take them – which bear witness to his definition of love. It is easy (which is why men do it so often) to talk of love when what is really meant is a longing for something or someone to please us; but the love that took him to that awful place on Golgotha – that is something else.

It was John Mark running back to the upper room which alerted us to what had happened. Nearly naked, we could see from that, and from the horror in his voice that something awful had occurred. I gave him some wine and calmed him down. He told us what had happened in the garden. Mary of Bethany said, bless her, that they would realise there had been a mistake and he would be released; mother Mary looked as though her heart was breaking, and shook her head. She knew, I knew, we all knew in our hearts that this was that sacrifice of which he had spoken. I knew, mother Mary and others knew, that he had rebuked Peter for saying it should not be so. But not all the knowing it was his will and destiny could stop our tears and fears. We put a look-out at the window, and we were ready to decamp at a moment’s notice. We need not have worried, it was him they wanted; they had him.

It was the worst attempt at a night’s sleep any of us ever made. Every step on the street outside caused alarm, and in the end, I made us a very early breakfast. It must have been towards dawn that the men began to return. John was in tears, Philip and Andrew in shock. But it was Peter whose appearance shocked me most. He looked as though he had aged ten years in as many hours. His hair seemed whiter, his eyes tired and tearful. When Andrew asked him what had happened he shook off his comforting hand, swore, and went into a corner where he muttered angrily at himself. It was dear John who brought him round. Then Matthew came and said that a crowd was gathering near the Governor’s palace. I offered to go with Mary, the wife of Clopas, and Salome the doula.

When we got there we found a huge mob. From the balcony, Pilate was talking – offering to release Jesus or Bar-Abbas, the robber. The crowd, stirred on by the Pharisees demanded the latter. Mary and I gripped each other tight as Jesus appeared on the balcony. He looked tired and drawn. When Pilate announced he would release the robber, he asked what he should do with Jesus? The cry went up: “Crucify him!” Mary clung to me and wept. A man next to us turned on us:

“Are you one of his supporters?”

I looked him in the eye with the stare I had always used on men of his sort:

“Yes, what of it? Were you not there the other say hailing him as king of the Jews?”

The man blenched and turned away. I had guessed right. How many of those blowhards who now cried for his death had celebrated him only days before?

We returned to the house.

Mother Mary asked us for news, so we gave it straight. We knew what we had to do. He would be crucified on Golgotha, we needed to get there so we could be with him at the last. Peter looked at me as though I was crazy:

“They will take you and Mary, what are you thinking, woman!”

“I am thinking, Peter, that if you want to stay here and hide, do so, I am not ashamed or afraid. They are not going to strip me naked and hang me on a tree!”

John said he would come with us.

So it was we watched that sad last walk as, battered and bruised almost beyond recognition, he tried to drag that cross up the hill. But his strength failed, and Alexander and Rufus’ father carried it for him. We got close enough for mother Mary to mop his brow. I told the soldiers who we were and the centurion, who seemed to admire my courage, allowed us to stand at the foot of the cross.

We watched as they mocked him. We heard his words. He commended mother Mary of John’s tender care – and how marvelously he fulfilled that charge. Then he gave up his spirit and we cried as though tears had no end. The sky grew black. When those soldiers came to check whether the three men on the crosses were dead, there was no doubt about him. We asked for his body; they gave it to us.

Oh, oh, oh of that I cannot write. To see that life whose entry into the world I had seen thirty-three years earlier now broken, battered and lifeless is more that I can bear. I kissed that bloody brow and washed him with the water brought by Joseph’s men. Joseph’s men told us we could use his tomb and showed us where.

As we got there, it was almost time for the Passover. We finished washing him. We anointed him with herbs. I took the winding cloth which I had brought back with me from Babylon and we wrapped him in it, with a cloth to cover that battered face. Then, we each kissed him and headed for the exit. The soldiers rolled a great stone across the entrance and stood guard. We went back home in silence. What could be said? He had gone. He had said he would return. Deep, deep inside me that small flame burned bright.

Crossposted from: Nebraska Energy Observer

Judas got a bad rap!

21 Monday Mar 2016

Posted by in Bible, Easter, Faith, Satire

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You can tell we’re coming up the Easter in the UK – it is time for the media to take its usual interest in Christianity by finding some unorthodoxy it can promote – this year, with the full participation of the Church of England, we get the old chestnut that Judas got a bad rap. The good old BBC has shrewdly spotted that a lady vicar best known for dancing at a wedding and for appearing on a reality TV show, has exactly the credentials needed for the sort of programme they want to do on Judas. She’s not, she says, saying Judas was OK, but he was maligned:

“I don’t think any of the other disciples were whiter than white – we just probably didn’t hear about it because they were all human and we are all a bit messed up.”

I don’t know which, if any Bible, she reads, but I’d recommend she try mine, which is full of stories of the Apostles messing things up – that Peter fella doesn’t come out of the story of the crucifixion very well. We ‘don’t hear about it’ – she should get one of those Bibles on tape – I heard it there.

The current Bishop of Leeds, who never saw an unorthodox thought he didn’t like, brings up the antique notion that Judas was a revolutionary and right to be disappointed in Jesus – guess he’s too young to have heard of ‘Jesus Christ, Superstar’ then?

It is left to the dancing Rev to make the daftest comment of all:

“Jesus forgave people as they were putting the nails in to his hands and there is no reason why he would not have forgiven Judas but he just didn’t hear that.”

Not sure whom she thinks did not hear what, but perhaps she’s still doing that Anglican free-wheeling riffs off Christianity without the Bible, because Jesus seems pretty clear about his fate:

The Son of man goeth as it is written of him: but woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! it had been good for that man if he had not been born.

Not being a highly trained liturgical dancer, or a Bishop in the C of E, I’m old-fashioned enough to think these words of Jesus don’t sound good for old Judas.

Yes, Judas has a key role in the story of our Salvation. By betraying the Son of Man, he precipitates the Crucifixion – and thus the Resurrection.Some have seen in this an excuse for Judas; he was foreordained to do as he did. But St John makes it clear he had a choice – but like so many of us, he yielded to the temptations of the Devil.

Judas made a choice. Satan tempted Judas with something which appealed to his pride and ego. Whether he meant to betray Jesus to death, or simply stir up a revolution, he acted as though he knew better than Jesus. He betrayed his friend and Master for his ego. This may be the sort of thing which makes him an object of sympathy for TV clerics from the C of E, but I’ll stay with Jesus’ opinion. I wonder if the dancing vicar had one of those Gideon’s Bibles in her hotel room whilst on location? If so, shame she didn’t consult it.

If you want something sensible on the whole thing, the estimable Caroline Farrow has something good here – but then she’s an orthodox Catholic, and no doubt getting stick from the Tabletista. So, if you’re on Twitter, get in there and support the lass – she does a good job.

The Works of the Lost Fathers of the Church (Part II)

21 Sunday Jun 2015

Posted by in Faith, Satire

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Dyspepsia the Hermit

Little is known about Dyspepsia the Hermit before his missionary work in Szechuan Province in China. It is said that he was greeted warmly by the people and that they celebrated a great feast in his honor. Some ancient Chinese texts speak of the many miracles that occurred that night. There was the copious perspiration that is said to have drenched his clothes and no sooner did they sop up the water from where he sat a new puddle would emerge. There were the tales also of the screams of banshees that were emitted at numerous times and the redness of his face which took on the color of the setting sun. But when smoke was seen to emerge from his nostrils and ears the people were said to be frightened as they were sure that they were in the presence of a terrible and ruthless demon. The story goes that the people became worried and thought it best to lead him out into the wilderness and so they deposited him in a far away valley with a small lake. It is here where Dyspepsia earned his title the Hermit as he never left that place. The lake is said to have disappeared and there is no sign of it at this time as it seems to have miraculously turned into a dry desert. However, etched into the side of the rocks around his hermitage is the following message: “I have been to hell and there isn’t enough water to quench the fire.” I think he must have had an ecstasy during prayer where he experienced the torments of hell and this inscription is all he has left us as a warning to live a good and holy life so that we might not suffer the consequences of hellfire.

Stephacoccus of Philadelphia’s Letter to the Huns (AD 452)

The following letter to Attila the Hun was sent to the Bishop of Rome, Leo I, to be hand delivered to Attila when next he might decide to invade Rome. It is widely known that Leo I met with Attila outside of Rome and that Attila left the region without invading or plundering the city which until now has remained a mystery. Perhaps the reason for this change in heart can now be known to the many historians who have studied this interesting moment in history.  The letter found in Attila’s grave, stuffed into his shirt, was as follows:

My dearest Attila,

Solicitudes and greetings from your friend and admirer Stephacoccus of Pnilidelphia along with Leukocyte the Leper, my trusted scribe and companion, who also sends his warm greetings to you. I hope this letter finds you well. 

As you know, I have traveled throughout the known world to preach the Word and have warned those who would not listen to my Word of the consequences of the wrath of my Lord. To date, every known town to which Leukocyte and I have visited has been devastated both by the Cough of Death or the loss of various extremities. Now, sadly, it seems that wherever we go the towns are empty before our arrival. I am hoping for a better reception in your country.

Thereby I have taken it upon myself to make a journey to your home town; but just recently heard that you were busy sacking Rome, thereby I have sent this letter via the Pope and hope that you receive it. Though you will not be available for this meeting, I feel that having traveled this far already it would be foolish for me to return home to my beloved Philadelphia though it seems they are not too keen on my return either. I shall therefore remain in your country as long as I am able and hope to remain there until your return.

With fondest regards,

Stephacoccus

Having handed this letter to Attila, Leo I was amazed to see Attila mount his horse and order his men to retreat home at full gallop. Having seen this, Leo I got down on his knees and thanked God and returned to Rome to tell of the miracle that God had wrought which saved all of Italy from certain death and destruction.As to the rest of the life of Stephacoccus we have no accounts but needless to say he was a great saint of his day and Attila prized this relic from the saint so much that he took it to his grave.

The Life of Hypochondria the Greater

It is said that Hypochondria experienced every disease known to man. But his prayers kept reviving him over and over again and by the Grace of God we have this testimony of a great saint from our past.

Saintly men are often rather sickly and ill as they take little care of their bodies and devote their lives to the development of their spirit through fasting and prayer. And so it was with Hypochondria. At age 7 he weighed an incredible 212 pounds though he is said to have eaten nothing but the bitter herbs of the hemp plant. He began to have visions around this time which continued throughout his life. These visions did not vary greatly except in minute details: he was always eating at the Divine Wedding Feast with the other saints and the menu items were the only things that changed from vision to vision. He usually awoke from these ecstasies a few pounds heavier and was in an almost hysterical state as the other saints had removed him from the table before he had his fill. These visions were interpreted to mean that his appetite for the sacred was insatiable and that he had a larger appetite for the holy things of God than anyone in heaven.

By the time he was 18 he was constantly bedridden with various ailments though doctors from near and far tried their best to diagnose his diseases but to no avail. His suffering must have been great and the sign that God gave to him and for all to see was that he was being spiritually nourished with the sacred things of heaven and thus his steady weight increase though he ingested almost nothing. At times, after his ecstasies, he was said to become very anxious and fearful, hiding beneath the covers for days.

There were stories that Fibulous, his trusted servant, was feeding him at night with copious amounts of food and a new dessert which he had invented: now known as chocolate brownies but known in his day as Fibulous Fabulous Goodiness. But such gossip is often the norm for saints who are always subjected to such ridicule in their own day. It is only after their death that the truth begins to shine forth.

The trials of Hypochondria lasted the rest of his life. And when he died at the age of 107 he weighed an astonishing 642 pounds (earning him the title, the Greater) even after a long ailment which left him completely immobile during the last 6 months of his life. He was celebrated as the patron saint of the paranoid in the very early Church.

The Works of the Lost Fathers of the Church (Part I)

20 Saturday Jun 2015

Posted by in Blogging, Faith, Satire

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Modern scholarship has overlooked many of the historical records that have been unearthed these past years and in so doing they have deprived the followers of The Way from an authentic practice of the faith. In this series I plan to rectify this oversight and help the flock come to a more mature understanding of their faith. 
 
I was granted permission to view the originals, now in safe keeping in a jar at Billy-Bobs University and Barbecue Shack across from the Dew Drop Inn in the college town of Bent Fork, West Virginia. I want to thank Billy-Bob for this honor and also for his help in translating some of the more difficult passages. For I must say that it is all Greek to me and Billy-Bob agreed with this assessment.
 
The first Father i would like to speak about is the spiritual mystic and author of The Book of Bells known as Tinnitus the Obstreperous. Although we only have fragments of the original, the parts that have been preserved give us valuable insights into early mystical theology which was developing within our faith.
 
It is postulated that Tinnitus the Obstreperous was born into a poor family of shepherds and that he spent most of his time tending sheep and praying for directions; for his references to the sheep and to the never ending ringing of other-worldly bells seems to echo throughout his manuscript. “The incessant ringing and the never ending journey to find my peace has led me to travel far from my home with my sheep being my only guide. I once was lost and now I am simply going in circles as I think I passed this rock only a moon prior. But the ringing keeps me going and I will follow its sound and my sheep until I find its ultimate source and the blessed rest that only silence can bring. O sweet mother, what I wouldn’t do for a taste of your baklava.”
 
By this we understand that Tinnitus sees the spiritual journey as a pilgrim who at times seems frustrated by the arduous path and its repetitiveness. The only constant is that we know our sheep are with us and though they think they are following us, it is actually we who are following them which can at times lead to great confusion. But if we listen to that clarion call of the bell we will not go too far astray and we seek the silence and rest that only comes by following this heavenly call. Note that Tinnitus the Obstreperous has found the rock twice during his travels and that this is a sign that he is on the right path and the circle of life corresponds with the circles of his travels. Some have thought that his reference to the moon may have something to do with the fact that his spiritual travels are at night and that he may have been undergoing a radical transformation during his spiritual dark night.
 
There is also conjecture that this may be the beginning of Marian devotion: note the reference to his Sweet Mother. She is invoked for even a small taste of her sweetness and it is interesting to note that the sweetness that he is begging for is her magnificent baklava. Now as we all know, baklava is made with fine flour dough, nuts and the sweetest honey. There is some thought here that the dough represents the saved people and the nuts are those who think they are already saved while the honey gives sweetness to the whole as we try to incorporate the nuts with the dough without undue violence. In this way the appetites are quenched and a new awareness is acquired among the faithful; as represented in the baklava itself.
 
As I am trying to keep this short I will only invoke one more passage from Tinnitus that is of particular interest. He goes on to say: “I have put mud in my ear and sheep dung to no avail. But should I come to a cliff and find the Oceans roar below, I feel compelled to throw myself headlong into its vastness and finally find peace from this constant bleating whilst my sorrows turn to joy; for I am eternally reminded of my mothers fish stew. May she find me safe upon the shore lest I dash my head against a stone. Should this fail, my fate is settled; for I once again must gather my sheep together and continue my quest for relief amongst these barren rocks and incessant bells.”
 
Although early scholarship had attributed the phrase “hell’s bells” to Tinnitus it is now widely believed that this is not the case. The latest thinking is that Tinnitus was trying to fill his ears with mud and dung only to see if these bells were from a divine source or if they came from the powers of evil. Knowing now that it was from God and not from the powers of the evil one, he was sure that the bells were calling him to jump into the vast ocean of God and to merge there with him in peace. This, it is thought, was the message of the bells. This is where all sorrow turns to joy and where he can eternally eat of the Sweet Mother’s fish stew: which is a metaphor for the everlasting food of Christians. But danger is there to the last as Tinnitus the Obstreperous reminds us; as we can still dash our heads against a stone and be transported back onto our earthly journey . . . dazed and confused. But Tinnitus also reminds us that the quest never ends even if we should hit a bump on the road or receive a bump to the head. We must gather our flock and continue until we find that Ocean and find the source of the rocks and the everlasting bells that keep driving us on.
 
The next time, among several others, we will investigate the teachings of Dyspepsia the Hermit.

Trans-itional thoughts: a curmudgeon’s guide

13 Saturday Jun 2015

Posted by in End times, Satire

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Trans-Racism

Yes, I’m coming out of the closet. I am actually a Chinese man trapped in a white caucasian body. This is a genetic mixup and though objectively I may look white to those who meet me, I am actually an oriental man struggling with my identity by some unknown genetic mixup.

Nobody knows how devastating it is for me to suffer this malady and I demand the same rights as Bruce Jenner, Bradley Manning and others to have the necessary operations and treatments that are necessary to alleviate this condition and return me to my proper role, stolen from me at birth. Hang the cost and don’t try to use common sense about this either. For only I who am experiencing this malady is qualified to comment upon it. Why else would I crave egg rolls?

But I am not selfish. I am also on a quest to shine the light on other injustices within our society as well. This brings me to the condition of Trans-Personism.

Trans-Personism

Do you know how many of our brothers and sisters have been locked away in psychiatric wards simply because they suffer from trans-personism? Yes, many thousands who think they are Santa, Joan of Arc, Jesus, Hitler, Satan, the Easter Bunny, and Elmer Fudd are wasting away while we do nothing to alleviate their suffering and pain. It is cruel and unusual punishment and we should end this incarceration as soon as possible. If they know deep inside that they are one of these other people it is not their fault that they were born looking nothing like them; it is a freak of nature after all. Again, it is our duty and it is their right that they get the medical aid and treatments necessary to transform them into the persons that they know they truly are. Incarceration of such people is inhumane to say the least.

And what about those people who suffer from Trans-Specieism?

Trans-Specieism

This is the awful situation that we see at many of the piercing shops where these poor souls are spending all of their own money to transform themselves into aliens from another planet, crocodiles, wolves or vampires and so forth. Imagine their depression having been born into a human body when deep down they are certain that this is not who they really are. Enough said . . . I think you get my point. We owe it to these poor unfortunates to find happiness in their life so that they too can find fulfillment for the true person that resides inside and struggles with their identity.

I know of what they suffer. Recently a wolf in a man’s body was arrested for heisting his leg on a fire hydrant in public and was subjected to great embarrassment and humiliation by being arrested. If they want such things to be done privately then every public restroom should be equipped with a fire hydrant or at least a nice sized tree or bush. Its a fundamental question of tolerance and accessibility for Pete’s sake.

We have made some good progress lately in our battle against intolerance but I hope that by this writing you will see that we have much more work to do before we become the tolerant nation that we aspire to be. Please support me in my effort to get out the word and make this world a better place for all of us. Let us end, once an for all, this prejudicial ignorance that still prevails in our society.

The church must change

04 Friday Jul 2014

Posted by in Faith, Satire

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PhilChewcutweb

We haven’t heard from ‘Fr Phil’ for some time, but never one to be upstaged by homosexual pop stars, he writes on a much more radical theme:

Jesus was a good man, he wanted us all to be happy. I am unhappy, and I think that Jesus would want me to be happy. I am a member of a largely silent majority. I am a heterosexual man, the husband of one wife. But no one appreciates my problem, and the Church needs to get with my problem and change its attitude. I find myself, from time to time, attracted in a lustful way to other women. This is a perfectly natural reaction. It has been observed in nature, and in all cultures of which we know, we see this instinct at work; in other words, God made us like this. Now, why should I have to restrain these feelings? I was born this way, and I feel insulted, hurt, insulted, that the Church condemns this natural behaviour; how dare it? Does it not realise how many folk it drives away by this unChristian attitude? There needs to be a ‘lusty Christian’ movement. We need to find a perfectly ordinary word to appropriate to describe ourselves – perhaps ‘Christians for choice’? After all, the number of times Jesus condemns this sort of behaviour are not frequent compared to the total number of verses in the Bible, and if Christians are prepared to say that homosexuality is natural and should be allowed, and that there should be a ‘gay Christian perspective’ on things, then why the discrimination against us? It is outrageous that there are priests who will make exceptions for homosexuals and who discriminate against us; there are hundreds, perhaps thousands of priests who have lustful thoughts, so why can’t we get real and stop being hypocritical? Surely we should be out and proud?

Perhaps we should have ‘Lust Pride’ events, in which we parade with our paramours, demanding that the Church should adapt itself to the modern era. Despite these priests knowing that they are lustful men, they pretend they aren’t, and they even dare to condemn those of us who are honest. The Catholics are the worst here. Their priests aren’t even married, so how can they possibly understand our plight? The State has caught up with these things, and no blame is attached to any party in a divorce, so why does the Church still insist on discriminating against those of us who simply respond to our natural instincts. God created them male and female, after all, and so we lusty Christians are well in line with what God wants in that respect.

Yes, in primitive societies, where women were dependant on men and thought of as their chattels, it was natural to want to defend them by banning adultery, but nowadays women have equal rights, and are as lusty as men. So what’s going on here with all this old-fashioned stuff? Does the Church not realise how out of date it is? It needs to adapt to the modern world. We need the C of E to have divorced bishops, bishops living with their paramours; we have the right to be represented by our own kind. After all, I know if Jesus was here, he’d agree, because he wants us to be happy.

“I am the Man”: a reflection

30 Sunday Mar 2014

Posted by in Bible, Faith

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That his condition was a punishment for something was an ever-present thought; there was some judgment on him. But he knew his place, sitting there near the synagogue and begging; it was what he did, it was who he was; he deserved it. He did not know why, but that was the way it was. But why did people assume that blindness was the same as deafness? Who were these Galileans using him as a means of asking their Rabbi questions about suffering? If it made him useful, it reminded him of his condition – as though that was needful. What was that about light? It would be nice to know what light was. Now some fool was putting wet clay on his eyes – was there no limit to the humiliations he was expected to put up with? Still, the voice, presumably that of the Rabbi, was authoritative, and he was used to doing what he was told, so he picked his way to the pool and washed his eyes. That was when everything changed.

The light, that was what he remembered even now; odd to say, but it had blinded him. It had taken a lifetime to get used to it, to live with it, to live in it. How they had quizzed him afterwards. Some had refused to believe the story, though they had seen him every day for years. “I am the man” he had told them. But it was not enough for those Pharisees. They had done nothing to help him, and now they seemed to resent the fact someone had. They’d demanded to know who did it. He’d heard the Rabbi’s followers calling him Jesus, so he told the Pharisees; but that just made them angrier. They were the disciples of Moses, they told him proudly; well, he thought to himself, Moses hadn’t done very much for him, and this Jesus had. But the Pharisees would not have it, Jesus was a sinner. Born blind he might have been, but born stupid he was not, and he had wondered aloud how they could think this Jesus a ‘sinner’. They had thrown him out of their synagogue. He had had nowhere to go, but the Rabbi Jesus had sought him out.

He had gone from one sort of marginal existence to another; even his parents had kept their distance; it didn’t do to upset the Pharisees. But Jesus had not forgotten him. He remembered his own words, “I am the man”, and Jesus told him he was the ‘Son of Man’; he knew then who Jesus was, and he had followed him ever since. The Pharisees had no believed him, they proclaimed they were not blind. Perhaps not, but they had not seen, all the same; there were worse things than not being able to see with your eyes.

He had followed Jesus until what the others had thought was the end; but he had been quietly confident that he knew what the Rabbi had meant when he had said the temple would rise again in three days;and he had. That light, lit that day, had burned inside him, and even though it had led him to this dungeon in Rome, he was satisfied. They had taken Peter earlier, and soon they would come for him and the others. It would not be long now before he saw again the ‘Son of Man’. The key turned in the lock; they had come; it was time.

Frodo and the mystery of suffering

02 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by in Faith, Tolkien

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I have been enjoying Nicholas’ Tolkien related posts, so much so that I am tempted into one of my own. As these are no more than my own witterings, I offer any apology necessary in advance – but here goes.

A friend, who had never read the books commented that she found Frodo an unsatisfactory sort of ‘hero’. I know what she meant, but it seemed to me she missed the point. Frodo is in many ways an innocent victim who ends by sacrificing himself and all his hopes for the sake of others.

A the start of the Fellowship of the Ring no one knows the secret of the Ring. It seems almost an innocent trinket, which can be used to amuse others and to disappear oneself. Had it not been for the curiosity of Gandalf, then the Ring might well have fallen into the hands of the Enemy. When its secret is revealed, Frodo’s first reaction is to: ‘wish it need not have happened in my time’. Gandalf’s comment is worth meditating upon: ‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.’

That is the key to what will happen to Frodo. His first reaction is one which tests Gandalf more than Frodo can realise, as it is to offer the Ring to him freely; with it, Gandalf could become the master of Middle Earth, but he is not tempted, and so the journey to Rivendell begins. That, perilous as it turned out to be, with Frodo suffering an assault which, but for the skill of the elves would have been mortal, should have been the end of it for the Hobbit. He had endured fire and sword to deliver the burden to those wise enough to make a decision about what to do with it; yet, as is the way of this world too, the Wise turn out to have no idea what to do. It is left to Frodo’s sense of duty to produce an answer which, however unlikely, is one upon which all can agree; he says he will take it – even though he does not know the way.

This is the central decision of Frodo’s life. He takes upon himself a burden which he feels unfit to carry, but it is precisely that pity (which he had once criticised in Bilbo’s sparing of Gollum, but now feels himself) which moves men to self-sacrifice, which pushes him forward where wise men fear to tread. Elrond the wise agrees, not because his reason tells him so, but because ‘I think this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will.’ He is right, but his intuition is proven right in a way no man could have predicted, and which was hidden even from the wise.

Frodo is sustained through the early stage of the journey by the courage and leadership of Gandalf, in whom he has infinite faith. Thus it is that the loss (as it seems) of Gandalf in the Mines of Moria is another almost mortal blow. Worse was to come. Boromir’s fall into temptation shows Frodo that he must leave the others and find his way to Mordor – alone.  But Frodo’s wish to spare others the fate he feels is his alone is alleviated by the love of Sam, who will not leave his master.

One of the defects of the  film for me was that it failed to capture the complexity of this relationship, preferring instead the cheap trick of having Frodo reject Sam because of Gollum’s mischief, so that there can be a reconciliation which tugs at the heartstrings. Tolkien was too subtle for Hollywood. In the book we see the trials wearing away at Frodo, as the suffering and the power of the Ring increase and his own energies and optimism fail; but we also see Sam suffer. Their suffering unites them, and even though Sam cannot enter fully into the suffering of Frodo, he can elect to share it. It is only when Frodo appears to be dead that Sam is willing to desert him – and he almost immediately realises he should have listened to his heart and not his head – before going on to heroically rescue his master. As Tolkien puts it: “His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: ‘I’m coming, Mr. Frodo!'”

Sam, we see, is in many sense, earthy, he is less sensitive, less spiritual, if you will, than Frodo; and this is Sam’s salvation. Sam, of course, is not tried as sorely as Frodo. His worst moment is when Frodo expresses his anger at Sam having the Ring, but Frodo is shocked into realising how bad things have become: ‘O Sam! cried Frodo. ‘What have I said? What have I done? Forgive me! After all you have done. It is the horrible power of the Ring. I wish it had never, never, been found. But don’t mind me, Sam. I must carry the burden to the end. It can’t be altered. You can’t come between me and this doom.’ Nor will Sam, that never was his aim; he just loves his master and will do what duty is set for him to whatever end may be in store. Sam’s lack of imagination and peasant stoicism is, in many ways, Frodo’s salvation.

But as the trudge to Mt Doom, Frodo is now all but consumed by the Ring, which is like a great wheel of fire on which he is being sacrificed. As he confesses his utter weariness and defeat, it is only Sam’s artless offer from love, to carry the thing, which rouses Frodo from his utter weariness:

A wild light came into Frodo’s eyes. ‘Stand away! Don’t touch me!’ he cried. ‘It is mine, I say. Be off!’ His hand strayed to his sword-hilt. But then quickly his voice changed. ‘No, no, Sam,’ he said sadly. ‘But you must understand. It is my burden, and no one else can bear it. It is too late now, Sam dear. You can’t help me in that way again. I am almost in its power now. I could not give it up, and if you tried to take it I should go mad.’

But if the reader is imagining that Frodo will now be given the strength to do what needs to be done, Tolkien has another ending in mind. The Ring was, as Frodo had feared, too powerful for him. His sense of duty, and the love of Sam. brought him to Mt Doom, but as he stands by the great fires he shows he has fallen: “‘I have come,’ he said. ‘But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine.”

Only now are the words spoken by Gandalf shown to be prophetic:

‘Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.’ 

Gollum, consumed as he has been by evil, proves the unexpected source of salvation for Middle Earth – and for Frodo – biting off the finger on which the ring is set, and falling into the fires, to the ruin of the work of the Enemy. Grace and mercy, not the will of Frodo, not all their works, bring salvation.

Sam, of course, after their rescue, looks forward to Frodo being able to resume his old life. One of the main problems with the famous film is that it misses out the whole ‘Scouring of the Shire’ which reveals how Pippin and Merry (and did he but know it, Sam) have grown in stature; it also shows that Frodo knows he will not come into his inheritance. This leads to one of the exchanges which still makes me cry:

‘Are you in pain, Frodo?’ said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo’s side. 

‘Well, yes I am,’ said Frodo. ‘It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.’

‘Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,’ said Gandalf.

‘I fear it may be so with mine,’ said Frodo. ‘There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?‘

And at the end, as Sam realises that Frodo is, once again, planning to slip away, there is this:

Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet, anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot always be torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you.

Frodo knows that what he has done is not for him; his suffering has been an offering to others, not least to Sam.

We cannot know why we are called to suffer, and like Frodo, we can only wish that whatever burden we bear had not come to us. But if we are faithful, we will find from somewhere strength to carry it, though in the process, and in this world, we may ultimately be worn down by it. Without the sacrifice which Jesus made for us, it would indeed be in vain; but He has died not for Himself, but for us, that we might, at the last, be inheritors of the Kingdom.

Calling all bloggers: Chapter 40

01 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by in Blogging, Consequences

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Jerusalem_dome_of_rock_2_1880Stephen walked towards his father. At that moment all the other figures, all the politics, all the history disappeared from his conscious mind. All he knew was that his father was here and he desperately needed him.

“My son!”

“Oh Father, how I have missed you!”

They embraced, and for a long time they said nothing at all. Words would have been a distraction. And so they walked away and mounted their horses and left the details in the hands of Sir Thomas and the company.

Some days later Werwick was drawn up from the cistern and taken with them back to Akko. There he was tried in public and executed for his crimes. So much of the struggle had been conducted in the fear that open moves to restore Henry would trigger wars and civil unrest. The power of the Marridans and Werwick’s faction had been feared in Akko, and at home the schemes of Abbot Hebert and the struggle for succession had caused murders and battles.

Finally Sir Thomas was going home. He had been on pilgrimage to the Holy City itself, and now he felt he could return to Izzy with a sense of peace. Whatever happened in Anglia, he knew he would put his wife and child first, and he trusted God to get him home in time for the birth.

For Stephen and Henry the future was still uncertain. Stephen had accepted his position as Cardinal of the Great Holiness. In the coming months he would be ordained as deacon, then priest, then bishop. No one doubted his theological credentials and the sincerity of his walk with the Lord, and he had faithful priests to guide him and lead him in ministry to serve his community. Father Celestine would never be far from him. But he realised that this post would forever remove him from the Anglian throne. It was a life-long commitment, and celibacy meant he would never father a successor.

Henry, once he had been briefed on the developments since his abduction, was left to consider what land would receive him now. Over time he came to terms with Isolde as his successor. He trusted Sir Thomas and his report of her good character. Abbot Herbert would be sent to the Marridan Empire, which would hopefully keep him from polluting royal councils, and he believed Isolde would stand up to her mother. But should Henry return home to Anglia or continue to fight in the Holy Land? He was still King, and in theory he could dissolve the acts that had been passed in his absence.

Civil war was not what Anglia needed, however. He had been an absentee monarch and Stephen’s presence reminded him of the fact that he had left his own son and daughter behind to fight this ‘Holy War’. From a certain angle, he had no right to return and claim the direct kingship he had failed to exercise in years past. Instead, he resolved to stay in Akko and draw up a framework that would invest Isolde with true political power, while maintaining his own right to troops for the fight to reclaim the Holy City. This would of course infuriate the Marridans, and that is what sparked this whole disaster in the first place; but the struggle that had taken place since his abduction served as proof that the Anglians could not be so easily manipulated and broken: they were tough as old roots, and as cunning as their native foxes.

Would Isolde like to continue? 😛

The Catholic Church & the Holocaust

14 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by in Faith

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If the treatment of the more distant history of the Catholic Church by the former priest and former Catholic, James Carroll is selective to the point of being tendentious, it is hard to know how to characterise his treatment of the holocaust. His book, along with John Cornwell’s Hitler’s Pope re favourite sources for those who wish to smear the Catholic Church by alleging that it supported Hitler.  I plan to deal with the generalised charges of anti-semitism being integral to Catholicism in a separate post, and here will focus on Pius XII and the charges against him.

It may be accidental that both Caroll and Cornwall are dissident Catholics who argue against centralisation in the Church and that they target perhaps the most centralising of Popes, Pius XII; those who believe in such coincidence are welcome to their credulity. An example of Pius’ lack of concern is, we are told, his failure to answer a letter from Sister St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross — Edith Stein, the Jewish-born convert who became a nun and perished at Auschwitz in 1942.  In 1933, shortly after entering the Carmelite order, Stein wrote a letter to Pius XI, imploring him to take a stand against Nazi anti-Semitism; but there was, we are told, no answer. Now this is very strange, since, as William Doino Jr. reveals:

there was, and it came from Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli (the future Pius XII), then Pius XI’s secretary of state. Pacelli’s letter was sent to Stein’s abbot, Raphael Walzer of the Beuron Abbey, because it was he who had mailed Stein’s letter to the Vatican. The reply correspondence may have been blocked by Nazi surveillance 

So, Stein may never have received the letter, but if, as Carroll claims, he has thoroughly researched the Vatican archives, it is strange he missed the response; or not, if it failed to fit his thesis. But such sloppiness and bias are, alas, typical of this ‘seriously flawed’ work.

Far from being silent, at a time when most of the Governments in Europe were still hoping to appease Hitler, the Cardinal Pacelli published an open letter in 1935 decribing the Nazis as ‘false prophets with the pride of Lucifer’, and played a part on the 1937 anti-Hitler encyclical Mit Brennender Sorge, which had to be smuggled into Germany so it could be read from the pulpit; if this is silence then one wonders what Cornwell and Carroll would want in order to signify disapproval? The fact is that the Vatican was considerably in advance of both Britain and the USA in condemning Nazism.

It must be acknowledged that after 1939 the Vatican took a more measured line – but as it was situated in the middle of a state run by Hitler’s main ally, that was not surprising. If we are to condemn everyone who did not condemn the holocaust in 1939 then we have several problems; no one else was; and that was because it was not happening then. One could certainly agree with Cornwell that Pius XII was late in condemning the mass deportation of Jews from Hungary in 1944; but FDR, the International Red Cross and the Jewish Agency in Palestine were even later. By that stage of the war, Italy was occupied by the Nazis, and Pius XII in constant danger; the condemnation itself put him and the Church in the sort of danger that was not faced by FDR.

Was Pius XII influenced by his fear of Communism? He certainly was. At a time when both Roosevelt and Churchill were bent on appeasing Stalin, Pius XII recognised the danger his regime posed to Christianity and civilization; but for this foresight he gets no credit.

As Professor Michael Burleigh (who, unlike Carroll and Cornwell is a trained and practising historian) has pointed out in his History of the Third Reich, Hitler was virulently anti-Catholic, regarding the Church into which he had been baptised as the major obstacle to his establishing Nazism as a new State Religion. Those who imagine that because Hitler was born a Catholic he had any sympathy for that Church really do need to read some books on him.

None of this is to say that there were not individual Catholics who did not cooperate with the Nazis, just as there were individuals in Britain and America who sympathised with them. The fact was that many of the political Right saw Communism as the greater danger and Fascism as the lesser evil; even Churchill took that view of Mussolini until quite a late date.

Anyone who imagines that the Catholic Church could, in some way, have prevented the holocaust, or was, in some way complicit in it is, I fear, operating from an agenda which has more to do with polemic than with history. Was there a history of anti-semitism in Christianity? Yes, and a more measured book than either of these might have helped the Church in its laudable recent efforts to acknowledge that fact; this sort of meretricious journalism  simply gives aid and comfort to those who would rather not agree with Blessed John Paul II’s apologies for the past and his attempts to improve relations with the Jews.