Snow over Parkdale, at last. It was so intensely beautiful last night: our city neighbourhood from our eyrie. And today is the Feast of Saint John Evangelist, the one apostle who never denied Christ; the one apostle who died in his sleep. One is generally quite attached to the Gospels. But at the words, “In principio erat Verbum, et Verbum erat apud Deum, et Deus erat Verbum. Hoc erat in principio apud Deum,” one’s hair stands on end. Genesis told us the story of Creation; but here is Saint John witnessing it. “Et Verbum caro factum est.”


Let us explain the title of our last post, to our Chief Texas Correspondent. “The cure” must be ironical, for it refers in the first instance to the Tylenol, which as we said only masks symptoms. “Cure” is played with then in relation to a few other things: Purolator delivery to defunct addresses, Mongol problems, the Bubonic Plague, &c. We were trying to establish a rhythmic background here: there are no cures. Nothing can be fixed.

In the body of the post, we are defending not a Utopian cure, but 1K years of explicitly Catholic Christendom, wherein no “cure” of anything was attempted, in our modern sense of “fix it permanently.” But the term itself is now revolving, backwards. Consider the French “curĂ©,” for pastor (Italian “curato,” Spanish “cura,” English “curate,” &c). The “cure of the parish” i.e. the pastor’s “care” of it, & specifically, care of its souls. The parish in this case being Christendom. (We’d mentioned some adjoining parishes.)

At the end, the term completes its revolution. How do you “cure” lightless, aggressive idiocy? We echo Paul: walk away.

There is also a “curative” subtext, throughout. In plainest language: The defence of Catholicism must necessarily involve an intelligent & positive defence of the whole “Middle Ages,” against centuries now of appalling lies & misrepresentations. The world knows, “we had our chance.” The world needs also to know that we didn’t entirely blow it.

The Enemy needs these lies. If they ever broke down, people might actually look at the whole history, not just for warning but for inspiration, to see how much was possible. In our own case, the discovery from broader reading that we had been lied to about many big & basic facts of history, that these lies were far from innocent, & also far from impossible to trace, was a liberation. So what if some inconvenient historical facts could be inserted into the chronicle of what “everybody knows”? Just a few little bombs in all the right places? The Enemy would be embarrassed. Many of his followers would be left defenceless against huge Catholic truths.

As we said explicitly: “Perhaps even better Christendoms are possible.” We put it in that plural way as Blake put the indefinite “a Heaven” (in a Wild Flower). But really, there is only one Heaven, & one Christendom, still living in our hearts. It might need to be rebuilt from scratch; it might fall together on a different scheme; it might outwardly look very different. But it would be animated by the same Faith, precisely. It was here, it is here, it will be here.

Is this totally irrelevant to the next two election cycles? Not entirely, but yes, mostly irrelevant to that. Nobody voted for the original Middle Ages; they just happened through God’s grace, expressed partly through the God-assisted, & quite heroic labours, of many many many truly improbable men & women.

The alternative title we rejected, by the way, was Thomas Traherne’s “News from a forein Country came.” Too smart, too cute, in this context.