There were solitudes beyond where none shall follow

The Three Crosses, etching by Rembrandt

There were solitudes beyond where none shall follow. There were secrets in the inmost and invisible part of that drama that have no symbol in speech; or in any severance of a man from men. Nor is it easy for any words less stark and single-minded than those of the naked narrative event to hint at the horror of exaltation that lifted itself above the hill. Endless expositions have not come to the end of it, or even to the beginning. And if there be any sound that can produce a silence, we may surely be silent about the end and the extremity; when a cry was driven out of that darkness in words dreadfully distinct and dreadfully unintelligible, which man shall never understand in all the eternity they have purchased for him; and for one annihilating instant an abyss that is not for our thoughts had opened even in the unity of the absolute; and God had been forsaken of God.

"The Strangest Story in the World", from The Everlasting Man
by G.K. Chesterton

Room to Roam

The House of Christmas - GK Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.


For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.


A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.


This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough
and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far 
as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.



To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

--G.K. Chesterton


Thanks to :
Saint Louis Catholic: The House of Christmas

The People's Opium

Chesterton on the great retreat

St. Thomas Aquinas, ora pro nobis!

Aquinas has said enough(haha), we will let GKC paraphrase.

"The sceptic ultimately undermines democracy"

The sceptic ultimately undermines democracy

(1) because he can see no significance in death and such things of a literal equality;

(2) because he introduces different first principles, making debate impossible: and debate is the life of democracy; 

(3) because the fading of the images of sacred persons leaves a man too prone to be a respecter of earthly persons;

 (4) because there will be more, not less, respect for human rights if they can be treated as divine rights.

― G.K. Chesterton

via The Transom

Photo

"A man knocking on the door of a brothel is knocking for God"

I am often asked for the source of the quotation, “A man knocking on the door of a brothel is knocking for God.” The line has been attributed to Chesterton because it is startling and obviously paradoxical. It tells a truth that is the opposite of what we expect. We assume that a man consciously sinning is avoiding God. And though this is true, there is a more profound truth that a man seeking a thrill, seeking comfort, seeking pleasure, is really yearning for something more than the shallow and disappointing experience he is going to find in soulless sex.

The quotation, as it turns out, is not from Chesterton. It is from a Scottish writer named Bruce Marshall, a Catholic convert, who was a soldier in World War I, where he lost a leg. In 1945, he wrote a bestselling book called The World, The Flesh, and Father Smith. It is a sweet and reflective story, filled with quiet integrity, still well worth picking up. And the famous line actually reads: “I still prefer to believe that sex is a substitute for religion and that the young man who rings the bell at the brothel is unconsciously looking for God.”

continue at Chesterton Society 

The Weary World Rejoices

Christmas has never really been my favorite holiday.

It's not that I didn't like Christmas--or even that I didn't love it. But in terms of fun, I'd generally prefer a fun-in-the-sun 4th of July spent swimming, sitting around a campfire and watching things explode. And theologically speaking, I never found Christmas nearly as compelling as the glorious Resurrection of Christ on Easter Sunday. Or even as powerful as Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit descended upon a rag-tag band of Jesus's friends who then went out and transformed the world.

In my mind, the birth of Jesus, while important, just didn't compare. (I can remember actually feeling perplexed when my wife explained to me the giddy affection St. Francis of Assisi held for the Child Jesus.) Even after one cuts through the secularization of Christmas, you still pretty frequently find a day that's overly sentimental, even saccharine. A day where children make a cake for Baby Jesus and sing "Happy Birthday" and blow out the candles and "Oh, isn't that so cute!"

There is, of course, nothing wrong with the birthday celebration approach. It's a fine introduction to Christmas for little ones. Still, I found Christmas to be, in a word--nice.

But nice isn't enough.

Our world is troubled. Ebola is devastating Africa. Lunatics are beheading children in the Middle East. Europe's decline continues. Russia and China are growing more aggressive.

And then there are the personal troubles that weigh on our hearts. You could be heading into Christmas with a frightening medical diagnosis. Maybe it's your first Christmas without a loved one. Perhaps you're out of work.

Nice isn't going to cut it.

And let's face it: if you're not suffering, it just means you're not suffering yet. As I wrote here nearly two years ago:

While many young adults gladly trade their faith for the transient pleasures of a licentious lifestyle, I had a bit of a different perspective. I was 23 years old with a beautiful wife and a beautiful baby. If there were no God, I realized that I was at the absolute peak of life. If there were no afterlife, the best-case scenario for my future involved 60 or so years of gradual decline, followed by a death which would render my entire life meaningless.

In his Confessions, St. Augustine described my plight much more eloquently: "For lovely things...come to be and they pass away, and by coming they begin to be, and they grow toward perfection. Then, when perfect, they begin to grow old and perish" (Confessions, page 48).

At 23 I had a beautiful wife. A brand new adorable baby. My life was perfect, and thus it was beginning to grow old and perish.

This phenomenon isn't just limited to individual people and things. Chesterton notes that it applies to all of human civilization:

There was nothing left that could conquer Rome; but there was also nothing left that could improve it. It was the strongest that was growing weak. It was the best thing that was going to the bad....No philosopher who was really philosophical could think anything except that, in that central sea, the wave of the world had risen to its highest, seeming to touch the stars. But the wave was already stooping; for it was only the wave of the world (GK Chesterton, The Everlasting Man, page 133).

On the eve of my 25th birthday that keen awareness of my own mortality returned. Any of us under a certain age spent the first two-and-a-half decades of our life hearing the same platitudes like "You're so young! You've got your whole life ahead of you!"

But as I approached that quarter-century mark, the realization hit me that it wasn't true any more. My whole life wasn't ahead of me. A lot of my life, hopefully, was in front of me. But a lot of it was behind me--milestones like my college graduation, my wedding day, my first job, the birth of my first child, and others had passed. The world was no longer my oyster.

I think I've contemplated my death every day since.

Vanity of vanities, says the Teacher,
Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What do people gain from all the toil
At which they toil under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes,
But the earth remains forever.
....
The people of long ago are not remembered,
Nor will there be any remembrance
Of people yet to come
By those who come after them. (Ecclesiastes 1:2-4, 11)

For nearly all of human history, contemplation of one's own mortality warranted only despair. After all, wealth, pleasure and honor provide no benefit to one whose corpse is rotting in the ground.

And so there are those who are suffering (whether physically, emotionally, mentally or spiritually). And there are those who are not--those who might seem to have everything. But whether slowly or suddenly, everything will be taken away. Sooner or later, sin and death and decay prevail.

To quote Chesterton again, "There was no God; if there had been a God, surely this was the very moment when He would have moved and saved the world."

And then one starry night in some remote corner of the Roman Empire He did.

The Creator of the universe launched an invasion of time and space that served, the turning point--the D-Day, if you will--in all of human history. An invasion to reclaim and redeem us. An invasion to ensure that every broken heart will be mended and every tear dried. An invasion that gives us hope of life and joy beyond the grave.

No, this invasion would not be complete until Christ suffered on the Cross, went to the grave Himself and triumphed in the Resurrection. But that night in Bethlehem marked the beginning of the end for the Prince of Darkness. Now, neither suffering nor the prospect of our eventual deaths are cause for despair. "Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15: 55)

This is what brought hosts of angels to a cave in the middle of nowhere. It's what brought the adoration of lowly shepherds and magnificent kings alike. It's what prompted the Slaughter of the Innocents--the last, desperate gasp of Hell trying to preserve its reign on earth. It's why we'll gather tomorrow night to make merry with those we love most.

And it's what I missed in the sometimes saccharine celebration of Christmas. This isn't a birthday party for God's Sake; it's a revolution! 

Christmas is a reminder that whatever is causing suffering in our lives, the victory is won. Hope abounds. Be not afraid.

Let's let Chesterton take us home:

There is something defiant in it...something that makes the abrupt bells at midnight sound like the great guns of a battle that has just been won. All this indescribable thing that we call the Christmas atmosphere only hangs in the air as something like a lingering fragrance or fading vapour from the exultant explosion of that one hour in the Judean hills nearly two thousand years ago. But the savour is still unmistakable. 

Have a blessed, merry and revolutionary Christmas!

The weary world rejoices

GKC: Progress is Providence without God.

Post by The American Chesterton Society.

Move the world

via Fr. Rick

Things looking bleak?

Remember Lepanto!

reposted

Andrea Mantegna (Isola di Carturo, circa 1431 - Mantua, 1506)
Madonna della Vittoria

Our Lady of Victory, ora pro nobis!
Our Lady of the Rosary, ora pro nobis!

trrrrrrrying not to quote the whole thing....... sorry can't help myself.  Memorize!

Priest sees ‘kinship’ between Chesterton, church’s ‘Little Flower’

MUNDELEIN, Ill. — Whether a sainthood cause will be opened for G.K. Chesterton is uncertain, but for a Catholic priest investigating the life of the much-beloved British journalist, philosopher and humorist, the effort already has been a memorable journey.

A year ago, it was announced that such an investigation would be opened, Fr. John Udris was charged with conducting it by his bishop, Bishop Peter Doyle of Northampton, England.

Currently spiritual director of St. Mary’s Seminary in Oscott, England, the priest is the previous pastor of Chesterton’s parish, St. Teresa’s in Beaconsfield.

Chesterton (1874-1936) was an agnostic who converted to Catholicism in 1922 and became one of Catholicism’s best-known defenders.

Fr. Udris spoke Aug. 1 at the 33rd annual Chesterton Conference at the University of St. Mary of the Lake in Mundelein. The July 31-Aug. 2 gathering was curated by the American Chesterton Society.

continue at The Compass

A memory

“Happiness is not only a hope, but also in some strange manner a memory ... we are all kings in exile.”

- G.K. Chesterton, The Thing

The Angel Offering The Fruits Of The Garden Of Eden To Adam And Eve

HT Rita

Chesterton, New Evangelization, and Cheese

The New Evangelization has been called many things, but cheesy is not one of them, and this is a shame. If the New Evangelization is to accomplish the task of re-evangelizing the cultures and communities of today, then the New Evangelization should be more like good cheese.

“In each inn the cheese was good; and in each inn it was different.”

G.K. Chesterton wrote some interesting things about cheese after a trip giving lectures around England. During his travels he lunched in several roadside inns across England that offered nothing but bread and cheese. He found in these cheeses a quality he describes as “the very soul of song.”

Chesterton saw in the cheeses two things:

1) Each cheese was local and therefore diverse, taking on the flavor of the surrounding culture.

The “noble” cheese of Wensleydale was a different happy expression of cheese than that of the cheese of Cheshire, or the cheese in Yorkshire, or the cheese in any of the inns. Chesterton believes that universal truths are best expressed through customs and civilizations when they are living, varying, and diverse. The cheese becomes exquisite because it communicates truth and beauty in a way that is in touch with reality and its local surroundings. The divine and universal idea of cheese takes on the human nature of the town and the people that labored to lovingly produce the cheese.

“Bad customs are universal and rigid, like modern militarism. Good customs are universal and varied, like native chivalry and self-defence… But a good civilization spreads over us freely like a tree, varying and yielding because it is alive. A bad civilization stands up and sticks out above us like an umbrella – artificial, mathematical in shape; not merely universal, but uniform.”

continue at Catholic Stand

Photo

HT AS

TPE: The ascent of brand man

via The Provincial Emails 

'Schumpeter' on the life of Wally Olins, "a high priest of the religion of branding", at The Economist.

"G.K. Chesterton got it half right: when people stop believing in God they don’t believe in nothing. They believe in brands. Companies spend as much time thinking about their brands as their products. Countries and cities hire brand consultants.
[...]
"Mr Olins recognised two great truths about the modern capitalist economy. The first is that the most precious resource in a noisy, crowded market is people’s attention. The second is that consumers are not just looking for utility in the things they buy. They are also looking for meaning. 'In the absence of a spiritual mentor,' he once declared, with his signature nonchalance, 'the idea of what the brand stands for—Just Do It, or whatever it is—is a substitute.'"

image 

Let the atheists themselves choose a god

Rembrandt

 "When the world shook and the sun was wiped out of heaven, it was not at the crucifixion, but at the cry from the cross: the cry which confessed that God was forsaken of God. And now let the revolutionists choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world, carefully weighing all the gods of inevitable recurrence and of unalterable power. They will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. Nay (the matter grows too difficult for human speech), but let the atheists themselves choose a god. They will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which God seemed for an instant to be an atheist."

- GK Chesterton

HT Mark Shea

The House of Christmas - GK Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
The crazy stable close at hand,
With shaking timber and shifting sand,
Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand
Than the square stones of Rome.


For men are homesick in their homes,
And strangers under the sun,
And they lay on their heads in a foreign land
Whenever the day is done.
Here we have battle and blazing eyes,
And chance and honour and high surprise,
But our homes are under miraculous skies
Where the yule tale was begun.


A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost - how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky's dome.


This world is wild as an old wives' tale,
And strange the plain things are,
The earth is enough
and the air is enough
For our wonder and our war;
But our rest is as far 
as the fire-drake swings
And our peace is put in impossible things
Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings
Round an incredible star.



To an open house in the evening
Home shall men come,
To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome.
To the end of the way of the wandering star,
To the things that cannot be and that are,
To the place where God was homeless
And all men are at home.

--G.K. Chesterton


Thanks to :
Saint Louis Catholic: The House of Christmas

Chesterton sketches: When the revolution comes

Did you know that G. K. Chesterton was not only an essayist, novelist, raconteur, and possibly a saint, but also a cartoonist as well?

In 1911, as he was publishing his Father Brown stories and just before his intermittent debating opponent George Bernard Shaw would write Pygmalion, the London magazine The Sketch published a series of Chesterton’s cartoons, all on the theme of “When the Revolution Comes.” Here’s a selection of three of them, illustrating his humor, as well as his unerring ability to find the absurd nub of the radical Progressivist cause. 

Chesterton’s friend and fellow writer, Hilaire Belloc, of course, often confronted Leftists with what would, in our day, come to be known as “hatefacts.”

Chesterton here is making fun of his own avoirdupois. However, under nationalized medicine, unhealthy activity, like smoking cigars or carrying excess weight, is positively anti-social and counter-revolutionary.

continue at Catholic World Report

How could someone NOT love GKC.  Seriously. 

Speaking of when the revolution comes.... I think I ought to post a nice conspiracy theory considering how wonderfully apocalyptic the readings are this time of year.  Something to help wear off the tryptophan?  (my friends murmuring to each other... no, not that...)

Father Brown series on Wisconsin Public Television

Saturdays at 7 pm.

WPT

PS> I am a conservative and a fan of PBS(and NPR).

HT Tim

Chesterton Society magazine back issues now available on Kindle and iPad

Yes!

Purchase back issues of Gilbert for your iPad or Kindle!
Click on an image to view table of contents and purchase your digital download (PDF format).
** Click here for directions to download PDFs onto your iPad or Kindle **

continue at Chesterton.org

This is an excellent mag, I do get the paper copy currently.  Let's see, I get four total, Catholic Answers Magazine(not as good as it's predecessor This Rock, but still pretty good), Chronicles(very good, plus I learn big words, LOL), Wisconsin Historical Society as well as Gilbert.