La Pequeña Burguesía

The poor can afford to be honest.

Like the dead, they've no pretensions to preserve. Robbed of all, they are safe.

They wander the streets: "Are you hungry?" "Yes." "I have a banana and some pretzels." "That sounds great." "Here you go." "God bless you. Have a great weekend." The best interchange we have all year, the most human.

The wealthy are frightened of reality, and shore up every scrap of philanthropy against their ruin. Their philanthropy masks their egotism, and provides a platform for their soap-boxing. Wealth provides a help for every kind of depravity. When one is wealthy and comfortable, why should he question his own motives?

It is far easier to make exorbitant claims when no one can effectively remonstrate. Safe in our death-defying capsules of Self. Unassailable idiocracy.

The poor can afford to be honest. They can accept truth regardless of its source. They can think a nun the greatest soul alive. They can praise a priest.

The poor suffer the universal victimization of human sin. They are its representatives, its constant proof, and they need no other label to be recognized. They live the utterly real.

But the prison of the rich is ivory. It's gate the gate of sawn ivory.

Teach me, you who are rich, how one rejects wisdom. If a man were to give his life for yours, how would you rationalize his stupidity for doing so, and simultaneously assert your own righteousness?

The rich may become great because the burden of proof always rests upon them. Martin Luther King was rich for a black man, but his case was poor and thus proveable.

Today, the imposters of his cause do not prove their case, but instead use the golden fist.

Mi pequeña burguesía, tu vida es una mentira. El reloj del universo para ti no espera. Despierten.

'The Tranquilizing Drug of Gradualism'

Revised and redacted from MLK's "Letter from Birmingham Jail"

I must make two honest confessions to you, my sisters and brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the pro-life moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the pro-life movement's great stumbling block in this stride toward the protection of life is not the NARAL activist or the Planned Parenthood lobbyist, but the pro-life moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another person's very right to life itself; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who would seem to be constantly telling the endangered unborn child -- as he goes to the execution chamber -- to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn't this like condemning a robbed man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery? Isn't this like condemning Socrates because his unswerving commitment to truth and his philosophical inquiries precipitated the act by the misguided populace in which they made him drink hemlock? Isn't this like condemning Jesus because his unique God-consciousness and never-ceasing devotion to God's will precipitated the evil act of crucifixion? We must come to see that, as the federal courts have consistently affirmed, it is wrong to urge an individual to cease his efforts to gain basic constitutional rights because the quest may precipitate violence. Society must protect the robbed and punish the robber. 

I had also hoped that the pro-life moderate would reject the myth concerning time in relation to the struggle for the lives of the unborn. I have just received a letter from a pro-life brother in Texas. He writes: "All Christians know that the unborn will receive equal rights eventually, but is it possible that you are in too great a religious hurry? It has taken Christianity almost two thousand years to accomplish what it has. The teachings of Christ take time to come to earth." Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely irrational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation.

Where is the Horse and the Rider

or 'Why you see few art-related posts on my page'

"Where is the horse and the rider?

Where is the horn that was blowing?

They have passed like rain on the mountains,

Like wind in the meadow

The days have come down in the West

Behind the hills into shadow..."

Where is the love of beauty? Where is breathtaking art and poignant song, and where are those who will seek them, praise them, cherish them, and show us how to see?

Like the brief, ephemeral art of our generation, they have been abruptly hidden from sight. Rinsed as from the slate -- no tablet of wax bearing the imprint of centuries' wisdom. Rather, the clean slate of a frontier school that started clean one day and started clean again the next.

Just as we are minimalists in ownership, we are minimalists in understanding or in seeking, in knowing and in wishing to know. And so we receive what we desire, we reap what we sow, which is so close now to nothingness. Where is the love of beauty, the devout appraisal of art? It is as it is in our hearts. Do we expect the tiny race of the people of culture to shower us with the Gospel while we wonder whether we are Princess Belle in her green dress or blue, or which Buzzfeed quiz will show us our best virtues?

Can you hear the overwhelming silence of the artists? I can hear the sea ceasing to sing, ceasing to whelm us over with the peace that she has given the imagination and the further peace that the imagination has given her. Did we think the artists would not starve? But they have all starved -- starved from a destruction of beauty in the world, a destruction of real living, of the seemingly invincible subject. The world has died, and art imitates life as life imitates art. Have you seen the imitation of death? I know that I have.

"The everlasting violence of that double passion with which God hates and loves the world" has come upon the artists in their silence. And as much as they have loved her, adorned and graced her with their innumerable lavishments, they wish nothing now but for her destruction, her punishment, her fall from pride into desolation and suffering and noisome darkness and fear. Repentance.

The fuel of the artist is life -- life that breeds more life -- life teeming and bursting at the seams -- life burgeoning unstoppably and never ceasing to unfold into new and eternal glories. Is it any wonder that the artists are silent, or that the lesser imitate death until it takes them.

Here is the demand of beauty: life. What prodigies have we killed, or allowed to die? No more.

The death of society is at hand. Were we more bitter towards the slaughter of our friends, we would have burned the fortresses of darkness and salted the earth, leaving the festering fields of evil forever barren.

We wish to intervene against the Islamic State in the Middle East. This is a just impulse. But, in our haste to tender retribution, do we forget the thousands slaughtered daily at home. Are the lives of countless children less worthy than the preservation of political potency in names: in "Yezidi", in "Christian", in "Shi'ite". Do we wish to save lives? Is that our intent? Or do we wish to save particular lives for particular reasons? Are the unborn not our brothers and sisters, and do they not live next door. Do they not die next door.

Can you justify your willingness to stop the IS against your unwillingness to stop the Abortionist State? Is it easier to fight a tyrant thousands of miles away?

The lauds of the poet fall silent. The artist in anger and desperation hurls his brush. Is there beauty in the world.

Can you justify not -- at the very least -- standing in prayer before the clinic, adjuring those who would be murderers to abandon their course? Rationalize, I beg you. Rationalize. Rationalize a way to avoid preventing murder when power is in your hands. I have dispensed with the arguments. I have had them all. I have heard them all. There is not one left with integrity. The truth cries out like a stone. It will not move.

The poet falls silent. The artist's heart roils and burns, and a black anger rises.

If you would have the soldiers stopped who terrorize in the name of Islam, but you will not place yourself in danger for your brother who perishes at the hands of the mercenary next door, the only judgement left to you is that of coward and liar.

Go out into the world. Go out. You have been sent out to bring the good news. The good news begins with the gospel of life. You must protect life, from conception to natural death. If you have not done this basic duty, this basic act for the ongoing creation of society, if you watch society crumble -- you too will fall with it.

Go out into the streets and pray, and beg God for mercy. I too will go with you. Come alive, and reject the systematic destruction of the human person. Overthrow the deathly edifice. This is our duty. It is undeniable. It is irrefutable. It is the supreme test of faith in our time -- the supreme evil, that which requires the most devout action in opposition.

If you wish to have good things, you must give, and you must first give life.

Where is the horse and the rider?

The beauty of the warrior lies in that which he defends.

Radicalize the Pro-Life Movement

Some of you who knew me during my college years may recount what seems to be a fierce dichotomy in my character. On the one hand, I have a profound, indeed religious appreciation for art, while on the other, I may become violently passionate with righteous furor when abortion is mentioned.

You might recall the days I spent in front of the new cafeteria, constantly accosting our fellow students: "Will you join us in peaceful protest at a Charlotte abortion clinic?" How many refusals. Stranger yet, how many assented and did not follow through? 100 signatures. Less than 20 protesters.

Others of you who read my blog may one day see a contemplative review of a film by Kieslowski. On another day, a declamation on our guilt as a society.

My heart is tender for beauty. It is of steel for violence.

Or some of my male peers may remember a controversial Facebook challenge to which they did not respond, the challenge that said we are black as hell if we do nothing to stop this horror.

Here we are amidst the horror.

In 8 years of being someway involved in the Pro-Life Movement, I have often asked the question: "Why do we allow this to continue when we have the power to stop it?" It is a simple question -- thus the significance of its persistence, the problem of its remaining unanswered.

I remember when we founded the pro-life apostolate, Crusaders for Life, at my parish church. One of the first events we organized was a training by the archdiocesan sidewalk counseling ministry. We were told of these mythological creatures (including priests) of the past who chained themselves to clinic doors, who -- unfortunately, we were told -- gave the movement a reputation of radicalism. We should never attempt any sort of rescue, for fear of reinstating this reputation.

Thus, for the last near-decade, I have stood, I have prayed, I have conversed kindly and calmly with the Watchers at the Gate.

But as I see the same structure that taught non-intervention (that is, an avoidance of physical protection for the unborn, an avoidance of peaceful civil disobedience) clothed in fine linen suits at their brunches with legislators, I wonder again: "Why do we allow this to continue when we have the power to stop it?" The man power. 300,000 strong at the so-called March for Life.

Even we in the pro-life movement have been a force for the dehumanization of the unborn. How? In refusing to acknowledge the gravity of murder -- the murder of even that first legally slaughtered child. What are we afraid of? asks Stephanie Gray in a LifeSite opinion piece. I would ask the same of her. Why do we stop at "speaking up"? Would you merely "speak up" to a Nazi official who wouldn't listen, especially if you could raise a free army of 300,000 to blast the gas chambers standing within the reach of your arm, to liberate those emaciated figures you observe as they stumble towards the ovens?

Is your reaction sufficient? Is this an adequate response to the evil you see at hand? If you fail at your appeal, will you turn your back as the murders continue, ready to chat it up another day? Did American soldiers ask the Nazi governors to stop the killings, or did they move in and stop them?

Well, America is worse off than Nazi Germany. We have achieved new heights in the field of human extermination. We cannot see it, and so even those who deem themselves "pro-life" allow themselves to relax for a day -- go shopping, play video games, have a beer with friends, scroll for hours on Facebook, vacation, have me-time. We have killed far more, and we protect our consciences from effect by expressing indignation at the Nazis and the Republicans [sic].

This piece seems too detached for my liking, and I am sick of being deprived of action. I am sick of the entire structure, but this does not excuse me from first concentrating on the evil which is first in the world: abortion. And I must do at all times what I can.

LISTEN! Open your ears! You have been at war, and you have let the enemy into your beds. The child of your mating is already aborted. Look at the impotence, 300,000 strong!

Remember the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. What was it for?

Remember the beheading of John the Baptist. What was it for?

Remember the Crucifixion of Christ. What was it for?

What is the definition of modern sacrifice? A weekend stroll round the telephone pole with a sign in your hands and a diaper in your pants? It is long past the time to act. The night has darkened on our souls. We have been 40 years a slave to the fear of humiliation, the fear of degradation, the fear of reprise, the fear of harm to our persons. We have let fear drive us to the rationalization that the very system that allows tyranny to reign and bloodshed to flourish would pander to our delicacies.

And fear, as is its wont, has affected our reason so severely that we value our own safety and livelihoods before the very lives of others.

But fear not, for "Actions done under stress of fear, unless of course it be so intense as to have dethroned reason, are accounted the legitimate progeny of the human will, or are, as the theologians say, simply voluntary, and therefore imputable." If we omit, then we commit. It is time to rise, lift up our mats, and walk.

There is no need for us to walk alone. We are all brothers. Let us spread the word, the word which is difficult, and which, because of this, seems all the more to be true. Speak, my friends, and act, and count not the cost upon yourselves. As Dr. King said, "the first question that the Levite asked was, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’"A noble cause calls good men to act.

As always, I stand with Pope Francis on non-violence: "it is licit to stop the unjust aggressor. I underline the verb: stop. I do not say bomb, make war, I say stop by some means. With what means can they be stopped? These have to be evaluated. To stop the unjust aggressor is licit."