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Showing posts with label G. K Chesterton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label G. K Chesterton. Show all posts

Friday, August 23, 2013

Chesterton’s Secret People

The English Catholics

It was a rainy spring morning in Wallingford, a charming grey stone market town in Oxfordshire, bordering the meandering Thames. I slipped out of a friend’s house on foot, headed for morning Mass. The wet streets were practically empty, save for a few early Sunday shoppers.

GROWING MOVEMENT: Typical congregation at a Latin Mass in England
Finding the church was a little tricky, as its location in an un-charming,  new-brick edifice around the corner from a street ATM was more than discrete; a  tiny sign was the only indication of its presence. Inside, however,  were pews filled with Catholics, standing room only.  I looked around me in wonder – the place was filled with people from every continent and walk of life. From my cramped seat in the back, I listened carefully. The priest was an Irishman, and his homily was forceful and direct.

In the last 15 years, I have attended Masses all over England, and what has struck me most about English Catholics in the pews is how similar they are to Catholics in the United States today.  In the suburbs, you find the churches filled with older people, there out of long habit and young families, trying to pass on the Faith. There are almost no single young people. In the big city churches, a grand mix of types of all races and nationalities – singles, couples, old and young, plus a sprinkling of tourists. And in the solemn Latin Masses, the pews are filled with a creative minority of intellectuals, artists, entrepreneurs and young families with lots of children.

So who are they, G.K. Chesterton’s ‘Secret People,’ the Catholics of England? 

Read more at Regina >>


Monday, April 23, 2012

How C S Lewis Prompted the Conversion of Richard Nixon’s ‘Hatchet Man’

Charles Colson went on to found the world’s biggest prison ministry

By Francis Phillips

Charles Colson gives his testimony in 2000 (Photo: PA)
At Sunday Mass yesterday in our parish the recessional hymn was written by G K Chesterton. For those who don’t know it I will just quote the first verse as, written in GKC’s inimitable brand of bold rhetoric, it seems apposite to our current political situation:
O God of earth and altar
Bow down and hear our cry
Our earthly rulers falter
Our people drift and die
The walls of gold entomb us
The swords of scorn divide
Take not our thunder from us
But take away our pride.
You get his drift. One might comment that political rulers were ever thus. Yet Christians today are inclined more than ever to feel an isolated group within modern society. Some would say we are certainly suffering unfair discrimination while others, less sympathetic, think we are an aggrieved minority with a persecution mania.

The final line of the hymn put me in mind of Charles “Chuck” Colson who died last Saturday, aged 80. A close associate of the late president Richard Nixon and known as his “hatchet man”, he was brought down by the Watergate scandal of the mid-1970s. What interested me in reading his obituary was that he had become a born-again Christian in 1973 – the year before he pleaded guilty to obstruction of justice and served seven months in Maxwell Federal Prison Camp in Alabama.

It seems that during the Watergate crisis he had visited a friend, a successful businessman who had himself converted to Christianity. This friend prayed with Colson and read him a passage from C S Lewis: “Pride always means enmity – it is enmity. And not only enmity between man and man, but enmity to God.” Colson, who was to call his autobiography Born Again, later sat in his car weeping “tears of relief”. Having lost his integrity years before to Washington politics and specifically to Nixon’s campaign for re-election, he now surrendered himself to God.

Members of the metropolitariat are inclined to mock people who have a conversion experience. But Colson’s conversion was no transient emotional spasm. It changed his life. His period in prison indeed took away his pride. In 1976 he founded the Prison Fellowship Ministries, now the largest prison ministry in the world, running Bible-study groups, sponsoring pen-pals to inmates and providing gifts for their children. This was to influence Jonathan Aitken, another disgraced politician and Christian convert, who later wrote Colson’s biography.

Not unrelated to Colson’s political career, I have just come across an intriguing story about Nixon, reported by Timothy Stanley for CNN. He writes that in the early 1970s Nixon told his staff that he was tempted to convert to Catholicism but was worried it would be misinterpreted: “They would say there goes Tricky Dick Nixon trying to win the Catholic vote.” It seems Nixon admired the Church’s intellectual pedigree and her uncompromising defence of traditional values. History is full of “if onlys”.

As today is Shakespeare’s birthday I conclude with a quotation, referring to another disgraced politician, from the grand old man of poetry and politics: “Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal I serv’d my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.”

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Why Pro-Lifers (and Everybody Else) Should Read G.K. Chesterton


From LifeSiteNews.com
By
John Jalsevac

A few days ago a good friend of mine reminded me of a mildly amusing incident of some middling illustrative power. It happened late one night in Rome. The two of us (for he was my roommate at the time) were drinking cheap brandy in our room at the Christian Brothers monastery on the outskirts of the city, and writing.

During our three month stay in the Eternal City we had agreed to each write a biweekly column for our college newspaper about our experiences. Usually we procrastinated until the last minute, and leant heavily on the truth that cheap brandy can give one wings. Tuesday evenings (the eve of our deadline) were long, exhausting, intoxicating, and richly creative: for when one is in Rome, it is easy to write.

On this particular night I was pleased as punch, for I had struck upon what I thought an extraordinarily clever idea, and in a furious burst of creative energy, I wrote it down. And then, after that short but exhausting stint of concentrated composition, I paused and picked up a nearby book, which happened to be by G.K. Chesterton. I opened it at random in the hope of some mental refreshment before putting the finishing touches on my piece for the week.

And then I cursed, rather emphatically. For, there, on the page, was precisely the same clever idea that I had so proudly hit upon, but there it was expressed with infinitely greater wit, clarity, and weight. I felt like the bold adventurer who, after countless months at sea, thought that at long last he’d discovered the new continent he had set out in search of, only to find a fellow countryman lounging serenely on the beach. I was deflated.

But in time I got used to the feeling. Truth be told, I cannot recall ever having come up with a good idea that I have not later found in a much improved form in the writings of Chesterton, or realized was actually subconsciously stolen from him in the first place. Even the metaphor I just used, about the adventurer, is one of his. It is as if Chesterton exists in large part to take the wind out of the sails of self-important young writers who think they’ve set upon clever and original ideas. They may be clever, but they aren’t original. Chesterton has already planted his flag.

But why all this talk about Chesterton? Because, quite simply, his writings remain one of the most potent cures for the madnesses that plague our age – and this encompasses all the various madnesses that we at LifeSiteNews specialize in. Indeed, if everybody had kept on reading Chesterton, perhaps we’d never have found ourselves in the mess we’re in now, and LifeSiteNews wouldn’t have to exist. Instead of writing articles about how very progressive scientists are proposing that we kill our grandmothers, I’d be a travel writer, or a wine connoisseur. Life would be grand.

Sadly, Chesterton is no longer particularly well known. But in his day he was a giant, in both a metaphorical and a literal sense (he quite famously weighed some 300 pounds, and walked about with a cape and a sword-cane). But fortunately he is making a comeback, which may well be the best news you’ve heard this year. Ignatius Press is already well into producing the Collected Works of Chesterton (a monolithic project), and his books are selling.

It is impossible to write a brief introduction to the work of “the jolly journalist,” as Chesterton called himself, though obviously an introduction, and a brief one, is what is called for. It is also nearly impossible to justify precisely why, amongst all the thousands of exceptional writers in the last century, I have chosen to highlight Chesterton in particular, without simply putting on the table in front of you his collected works and telling you to read. The only problem, of course, is that if the collected works of Chesterton were put on the table in front of you, the table would collapse under the weight, and possibly even crash through to the floor below. For he wrote close to 100 books, several hundred poems, some 200 short stories, 4000 essays, and several plays. And he died when he was only 62.

Dale Ahlquist, the president of the American Chesterton Society and a good friend of mine (indeed, his son Julian is the friend I alluded to at the beginning of this column), is fond of saying that “G.K. Chesterton was the best writer of the 20th century,” and that Chesterton “said something about everything and he said it better than anybody else.” And that’s perfectly true. But if you are of the skeptical temperament and think that’s mere hyperbole, go ask Bernard Shaw, H.G. Wells, T.S. Eliot, C.S. Lewis (who was converted to Christianity in part by Chesterton’s writing), William F. Buckley or Etienne Gilson, amongst others. They all agree. Gilson, the famous Thomist philosopher, said, "Chesterton was one of the deepest thinkers who ever existed. He was deep because he was right." Philosophers, as you may imagine, are not particularly fond of heaping praise on the intellectual capacities of journalists (as Chesterton was), and so you see how extraordinary a compliment this is.

Chesterton was prophetic in his insights, and devastating in his critiques of the errors of modernism. “The next great heresy,” he wrote, in the 1920s, “is going to be simply an attack on morality, and especially on sexual morality. … The madness of tomorrow is not in Moscow, but much more in Manhattan.”

He wrote books and essays on eugenics, birth control, marriage, education, family, faith, and just about everything else that is important: and they are all still just as pertinent today as they were when he first penned them. Chesterton’s two great principles were faith and the family, and he defended them from the attacks of modernism with more passion, wit, wisdom and good sense than anyone else.

Of the family, he famously wrote, “When we step into the family, by the act of being born, we do step into a world which is incalculable, into a world which has its own strange laws, into a world which could do without us, into a world we have not made. In other words, when we step into the family we step into a fairy-tale.” And of the faith, he even more famously said, "The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried."

His was a curious and contradictory voice in the midst of the age of pessimism, proclaiming the unutterable goodness of life, of the mere act of existing. One of my absolute favorite quotations by him also bears some of the responsibility for my gathering the courage to propose to my wife, and it is this: "We are to regard existence as a raid or great adventure; it is to be judged, therefore, not by what calamities it encounters, but by what flag it follows and what high town it assaults. The most dangerous thing in the world is to be alive; one is always in danger of one's life. But anyone who shrinks from that is a traitor to the great scheme and experiment of being."

But, before I conclude and set my dear reader loose upon Chesterton, it would do some good to issue a warning: Many people have a tough time with Chesterton at first. He can be difficult, not in the way that modern, scientific writers are difficult (i.e. by using a multiplicity of impressive sounding but empty and often misleading words), but because he manages to pack so much truth and insight into such tiny spaces, and he expects his readers to have some basic acquaintance with Western history and ideas. His writing is heavy, but only because it bears the weight of much truth. So, if you get frustrated at first, do not worry. There is frequently an acclimatization period, and many current devoted fans of Chesterton will admit to having gone through it. That middle period is merely the uncomfortable feeling of the depressurization chamber, as we leave the vacuums of our own petty minds, and enter the rich atmosphere of Chesterton’s. But once you come through the other side, you have entered a living, teeming world of almost endless intellectual and spiritual refreshment.

(John can be reached at jjalsevac@lifesite.net)

Some recommended introductory reading:

Dale Ahlquist has written two excellent books for those who have never before encountered Chesterton or who wish to learn more about him. In large part Dale merely weaves together the best quotations by Chesterton and guides the reader through his worldview. The two books are: Common Sense 101 - Lessons from Chesterton and G.K. Chesterton - The Apostle of Common Sense. They can be purchased at: http://chesterton.org/acs/aboutchesterton.htm


Introductory essays about Chesterton:

G.K. Chesterton Common Sense Apostle & Cigar Smoking Mystic
http://www.ignatiusinsight.com/features/ahlquist_gk1.asp

"Who is this guy and why haven’t I heard of him?"
http://chesterton.org/discover/who.html


Recommended writings by Chesterton (Warning: Don’t attempt to read them on the computer screen. Print them out, kick back, and enjoy):

A Piece of Chalk
http://chesterton.org/gkc/essayist/chalk.htm

A Defence of Rash Vows
http://chesterton.org/gkc/essayist/v1n3.gkcessay.htm

The Extraordinary Cabman
http://www.cse.dmu.ac.uk/~mward/gkc/books/cabman.html

Quotations of G. K. Chesterton
http://chesterton.org/discover/quotations.html


Monday, November 24, 2008

We Need Roots


If I had to choose one article that would sum up the theme and purpose I intend for my blog, it would undoubtedly be the following article by R. R. Reno, features editor of First Things, and a professor of theology at Creighton University. It is a profound article on the meaning of culture, patriotism, national loyalty, social capital, and man's restless quest for roots that was aptly summed up in Saint Augustine's observation:
Nos fecisti ad te et inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in te. Thou hast made us for Thyself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.


We Need Roots
From First Things
By R. R. Reno

G.K. Chesterton was a sucker for romantic gestures. Lines of soldiers with swords crossed, flags rippling in the wind, cathedral bells tolling: These sorts of scenes moved him, as did visions of lovers pledging themselves to each other in the dusky darkness of a summer evening, monks prostrate on cold, stone, chapel floors as they take their vows, and the quiet, invincible resolution of solitary soldiers who face impossible odds. Life is better—richer, deeper, thicker—for our loyalties and loves.

I share this Chestertonian sensibility, which is why the new music from the English folk band, Show of Hands, gives me goose bumps.

Listen to the band’s bitter lament, “Country Life.” The accompanying video on YouTube features harsh black and white images that match the cutting lyrics.

Read the rest of this entry >>

Sunday, March 16, 2008

A Very Blessed Holy Week To All


The Donkey

by G. K. Chesterton

When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn,
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born;

With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil's walking parody
On all four-footed things.

The tattered outlaw of the earth,
Of ancient crooked will;
Starve, scourge, deride me: I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.

Fools! For I also had my hour;
One far fierce hour and sweet:
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.